"Here is Mr. Vane, wife!" said the raven.
"He is welcome," she answered, in a low, rich, gentle voice.
Treasures of immortal sound seemed to he buried in it.
I gazed, and could not speak.
"I knew you would be glad to see him!" added the raven.
She stood in front of the door by which she had entered, and did
not come nearer.
"Will he sleep?" she asked.
"I fear not," he replied; "he is neither weary nor heavy laden."
"Why then have you brought him?"
"I have my fears it may prove precipitate."
"I do not quite understand you," I said, with an uneasy foreboding
as to what she meant, but a vague hope of some escape. "Surely a
man must do a day's work first!"
I gazed into the white face of the woman, and my heart fluttered.
She returned my gaze in silence.
"Let me first go home," I resumed, "and come again after I have
found or made, invented, or at least discovered something!"
"He has not yet learned that the day begins with sleep!" said the
woman, turning to her husband. "Tell him he must rest before he can
do anything!"
"Men," he answered, "think so much of having done, that they fall
asleep upon it. They cannot empty an egg but they turn into the
shell, and lie down!"
The words drew my eyes from the woman to the raven.
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