[_Softly humming to the music, the Old Women begin to circle round the Man--mouthing with their lips, and making, a horrible travesty of the movements of the white-robed dancers who danced at the Man's ball. To the first phrase of the tune they whirl themselves round; to the second they converge and retire; to the third and fourth they whirl themselves round in their places--stepping softly, and on tiptoe, as, at intervals, they whisper, in the Man's ear:_] Do you remember it, Man? You are going to die soon, but do you remember it? Do you remember it? Do you remember it? You are going to die soon, but do you remember it? [_The dance becomes swifter, the motions more abandoned, and strange, wailing notes begin to make themselves heard in the voices of the Old Women as they hum the tune, and reiterations of weird laughter to run softly round the circle like a ripple. Each time that the dancers pass before the Man they shoot into his ear such whispered ejaculations as:_] Do you remember it, Man? Do you remember it? How ravishing it all was--how voluptuous? How delightful to the soul? Do you remember it, Man? You are going to die soon! You are going to die soon! You are going to die soon! Do you remember it, Man? [_Still more swiftly the Old Women circle in the dance; still more wild and uncouth their antics become. Suddenly all become stricken to silence, and come to a dead stop--even the musicians standing arrested in the exact attitudes of playing, and remaining perfectly silent and motionless. The Man rises, and tries to stand upright, with his handsome grey head shaking tremulously. Lastly, in a startlingly loud voice--a voice charged with entreaty, wrath, and mortal agony--he cries out, with a pause between each several phrase:_] Where is my armour-bearer?--Where is my sword?--Where is my buckler?--I am without arms!--To my aid!--Speed!--Speed!--My curse be upon----- [_He falls back dead upon the chair, with his head bowed upon his breast. At the same moment the candle in the hand of the Being in Grey gives a last flicker and goes out. Instantly the scene becomes wrapped in deep shadow--a shadow which seems to come creeping, down the entrance-ladder, and gradually to envelop the whole. Finally, no light whatever is left upon the stage but a solitary shaft resting upon the head of the corpse. Only a low, vague murmuring can be heard proceeding from the Old Women--a sort of whispering and chuckling._] ~The Being in Grey.~~ Silence ye! A man is dead! [_Again there is silence; save that a cold, passionless voice is heard re-echoing as from a great distance, "Silence ye! A man is dead!" Slowly the gloom deepens, though the crouching, mouselike forms of the Old Women still remain faintly visible in the obscurity._