sure of the thing she dreaded, forced the note, and would
not be denied. What voice there was in her came to the summons. It
issued, if I may so express it, ragged, as if it had torn through a
briar-hedge: then there was a whimper of tones, and the effect was like
the lamentation of a hardly-used urchin, lacking a certain music that
there is in his undoubted heartfelt earnestness. No single note poised
firmly for the instant, but swayed, trembling on its neighbour to right
and to left when pressed for articulate sound, it went into a ghastly
whisper. The laughter of Mr. Pericles was pleasing discord in comparison.

CHAPTER XL

Emilia stretched out her hand and said, "Good-bye." Seeing that the
hardened girl, with her dead eyelids, did not appear to feel herself at
his mercy, and also that Sir Purcell's forehead looked threatening, Mr.
Pericles stopped his sardonic noise. He went straight to the door, which
he opened with alacrity, and mimicking very wretchedly her words of
adieu, stood prepared to bow her out. She astonished him by passing
without another word. Before he could point a phrase bitter enough for
expression, Sir Purcell had likewise passed, and in going had given him a
quietly admonishing look.

"Zose Poles are beggars!" Mr. Pericles roared after them over the stairs,
and slammed his door for emphasis. Almost immediately there was a knock
at it. Mr. Pericles stood bent and cat-like as Sir Purcell reappeared.
The latter, avoiding all preliminaries, demanded of the Greek that he
should promise not to use the names of his friends publicly in such a
manner again.

"I require a promise for the future. An apology will be needless from
you."

"I shall not give it," said Mr. Pericles, with a sharp lift of his upper
lip.

"But you will give me the promise I have returned for."

In answer Mr. Pericles announced that he had spoken what was simply true:
that the prosperity of the Poles was fictitious: that he, or any
unfavourable chance, could ruin them: and that their friends might do
better to protect their interests than by menacing one who had them in
his power.

Sir Purcell merely reiterated his demand for the promise, which was
ultimately snarled to him; whereupon he retired, joy on his features.
For, Cornelia poor, she might be claimed by him fearlessly: that is to
say, without the fear of people whispering that the penniless baronet had
sued for gold, and without the fear of her father rejecting