"Yes--it is better--there," said I, "and I think--madam--is

--mistaken."

"Mistaken?" she cried, with a sudden catch in her voice, "what

--what do you mean?"

"That I--am--the Bumpkin!" said I.

Now, as I spoke, a black mist enveloped all things, my knees

loosened suddenly, and stumbling forward, I sank into a chair.

"I am--very--tired!" I sighed, and so, as it seemed, fell asleep.




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