stupefied the Count: he sat with his head between
his hands, muttering wildly about ill-luck, seven's the main, bad punch,
and so on. The street-door banged to; and the steps of Brock and the
Squire were heard, until they could be heard no more.

"Max," said she; but he did not answer. "Max," said she again, laying
her hand on his shoulder.

"Curse you," said that gentleman, "keep off, and don't be laying your
paws upon me. Go to bed, you jade, or to ----, for what I care; and give me
first some more punch--a gallon more punch, do you hear?"

The gentleman, by the curses at the commencement of this little speech,
and the request contained at the end of it, showed that his losses vexed
him, and that he was anxious to forget them temporarily.

"Oh, Max!" whimpered Mrs. Cat, "you--don't--want any more punch?"

"Don't! Shan't I be drunk in my own house, you cursed whimpering jade,
you? Get out!" and with this the Captain proceeded to administer a blow
upon Mrs. Catherine's cheek.

Contrary to her custom, she did not avenge it, or seek to do so, as
on the many former occasions when disputes of this nature had arisen
between the Count and her; but now Mrs. Catherine fell on her knees and,
clasping her hands and looking pitifully in the Count's face, cried,
"Oh, Count, forgive me, forgive me!"

"Forgive you! What for? Because I slapped your face? Ha, ha! I'll
forgive you again, if you don't mind."

"Oh, no, no, no!" said she, wringing her hands. "It isn't that. Max,
dear Max, will you forgive me? It isn't the blow--I don't mind that;
it's--"

"It's what, you--maudlin fool?"

"IT'S THE PUNCH!"

The Count, who was more than half seas over, here assumed an air of much
tipsy gravity. "The punch! No, I never will forgive you that last glass
of punch. Of all the foul, beastly drinks I ever tasted, that was the
worst. No, I never will forgive you that punch."

"Oh, it isn't that, it isn't that!" said she.

"I tell you it is that,--you! That punch, I say that punch was no better
than paw--aw-oison." And here the Count's head sank back, and he fell to
snore.

"IT WAS POISON!" said she.

"WHAT!" screamed he, waking up at once, and spurning her away from him.
"What, you infernal murderess, have you killed me?"

"Oh, Max!--don't kill me, Max! It was laudanum--indeed it was. You were
going to be married, and I was furious, and I went and got--"

"Hold your tongue, you fiend," roared out the Count; and with more
presen