“‘Tis some one without the wall, who would affright us. But, prythee, is not that the statue of Don Pedro? By my faith, ’tis the statue of Don Pedro! Read the inscription.” “I pray thee spare me. My eyes are not diligent in the moonlight.” “Read, Leporello, read.” “Yes, master, yes. As I do spell it, it says, ‘PATIENTLY HERE I AWAIT VENGEANCE ON MY DESTROYER.’” “Master, good master, if thou upholdest me not, I fall.” “Bid him to supper. Ha! ha! ha!” “Preserve us, ye saints, how he frowneth. Master, he hath life. He will speak. I would I were conveniently away from here. Master, why dost thou not look at the statue?” “‘Tis not handsome. Now, thou cur, obey me!” “Softly, good master. This is woeful, this is woeful. So please you, gentle statue; nay, I cannot proceed. I have my heart in my mouth. I would I were at home, this master will most completely destroy me.” “If thou dost hesitate, I will warm this dagger in thy coward’s heart. Now, proceed.” And he again laughed, still not turning his face to the statue. “So please you, gentle statue, for I advise me thou art gentle, if thou art stonely--he hath turned his eyes on us: mercy, he hath remarked us.” “What, thou wilt die, recreant?” “Master, laugh not. So thou hast thy choice of death, Leporello--’tis more than many a sinner; either by fear or by steel thou fallest. Well, well, if I love blood, I know not my likings. Good, master, good. Most gentle of statues, my master, and I--prythee, mark well, ’tis my _master_, and not I, good statue. Oh Lord! he hath up and downed his head.” “Thou art but a pudding, friend Leporello.” “Granted, I am what I am, yet look, master.” “And wherefore?” “The statue, which with his stony head goeth thus, up and down, up and down!” Then suddenly the don turned and looked for the first time at the statue. “Tell me, statue, wilt thou sup with me?” “YES.” The don started, but his courage was equal to his crimes, so he laughingly bade his servant come and prepare the meal. “Anywhere and anything, my good master, so that we go from this place. Methinks I am half dead.” And the servant kept pretty close to his master’s heels till they had quitted the cemetery and the awful speaking statue. CHAPTER VII. The supper was laid, the don seated. He had forgotten his guest. He sat lightly at table, leaning back in a great crimson chair, and chattering gaily to his servant and friend. “Leporello, I shall eat a supper as large as thy eyes when thou art frightened.” “Rare, master, rare.” “This is a good dish, Leporello.” “My faith, but I would e’en eat of it too. I would he would ask me.” “Another plate, good Leporello. Pour out some wine, Leporello.” “Verily, if I do not eat, I shall fail in my strength. Faith, I will steal, ’tis not much more on my conscience.” “Leporello, my friend, whistle.” “He fain would stay my eating.” “Marry, how doth a man whistle, master?” “Not with his mouth full.”