His head had dropped upon his breast --yet I knew
that he was not asleep, from the wide and rigid opening of the eye
as I caught a glance of it in profile. The motion of his body, too,
was at variance with this idea --for he rocked from side to side
with a gentle yet constant and uniform sway. Having rapidly taken
notice of all this, I resumed the narrative of Sir Launcelot, which
thus proceeded:
"And now, the champion, having escaped from the terrible fury of the
dragon, bethinking himself of the brazen shield, and of the breaking
up of the enchantment which was upon it, removed the carcass from
out of the way before him, and approached valorously over the silver
pavement of the castle to where the shield was upon the wall; which in
sooth tarried not for his full coming, but fell down at his feet
upon the silver floor, with a mighty great and terrible ringing
sound."
No sooner had these syllables passed my lips, than --as if a
shield of brass had indeed, at the moment, fallen heavily upon a floor
of silver became aware of a distinct, hollow, metallic, and
clangorous, yet apparently muffled reverberation.
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