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CHAPTER XLIV.
Juliet, in remounting the stairs, was stopt, by her new acquaintance, before the door of his apartment.
"If you knew," he said, "how despitefully I have been treated, and how miserably black and blue I have been pinched, by the little Imp whose offer you have rejected, sleep would fly your eyes at night, from remorse for your hardness of heart. Its Impship insists upon it, that the fault must all be mine. What! it cries, would you persuade me, that a young creature whose face beams with celestial sweetness, whose voice is the voice of melody, whose eyes have the softness of the Dove's———"
Juliet, though she smiled, would have escaped; but he told her he must be heard.
"Would you persuade me, quoth my
