"Yes--it is better--there," said I, "and I think--madam--is
--mistaken."
"Mistaken?" she cried, with a sudden catch in her voice, "what
--what do you mean?"
"That I--am--the Bumpkin!" said I.
Now, as I spoke, a black mist enveloped all things, my knees
loosened suddenly, and stumbling forward, I sank into a chair.
"I am--very--tired!" I sighed, and so, as it seemed, fell asleep.