Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. ‘The general himself?’ ‘How shall I get my inheritance if the general will believe that pig?’ ‘Do wish you wouldn’t keep on calling him a pig,’ Martha begged. "You won't listen to this nonsense, Sir Rowland!" "If you are innocent, boy," said the knight, controlling his emotion; "you have nothing to apprehend. Mild, you know, and boon. Don’t take my word for it though.
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