at first; again the lightning gleamed over the impassive features, and the voice murmured,—
“Time was!”
“On my life,” said Miles, scornfully, “to think that my master and his friend should spend seven good years in making a head which says no more wonderful thing than any fishmonger could tell us. ‘Time was!’ I am but a fool, and I hope I know as much as that. Why not say something in Greek or Latin, or any of the learned tongues that Master Bacon knows as well as he knows his breviary? Or, if thou canst speak nothing but common English, tell us something more strange than this. Dost think I shall wake up my master to no better entertainment of conversation than thou hast offered him? Out upon thee for a braggart, that promisest by thy looks more than thy tongue can ever perform for thee.”
While he was speaking, a sudden light lit up the Head with a brightness like that of day. The terrible features wore a frown so dreadful that the glance struck dismay to the heart of the swaggering Miles. As he stood motionless, with awful accent and in a voice of thunder, the Head cried out, “Time is past!” Then came a lightning flash so vivid that the serving-man fell prone to earth, and with a fearful crash the grand Head fell, a shattered mass of fragments, without shape or semblance.
