Now for the two thousand black
slaves, with jars of jewels on their heads!'
It appeared, however, that she had only clapped her hands for joy;
for directly afterward she began to laugh, and then to cry;
declaring, not in choice Arabic but in familiar English, that she
was 'so glad, she didn't know what to do.'
'Marchioness,' said Mr Swiveller, thoughtfully, 'be pleased to draw
nearer. First of all, will you have the goodness to inform me
where I shall find my voice; and secondly, what has become of my
flesh?'
The Marchioness only shook her head mournfully, and cried again;
whereupon Mr Swiveller (being very weak) felt his own eyes affected
likewise.
'I begin to infer, from your manner, and these appearances,
Marchioness,' said Richard after a pause, and smiling with a
trembling lip, 'that I have been ill.'
'You just have!' replied the small servant, wiping her eyes. 'And
haven't you been a talking nonsense!'
'Oh!' said Dick. 'Very ill, Marchioness, have I been?'
'Dead, all but,' replied the small servant. 'I never thought you'd
get better. Thank Heaven you have!'
Mr Swiveller was silent for a long while.
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