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The advice was good; the Warden and the Count had fallen into no

common straits. At the upper end of the table only a mighty

shouting was raging, but at the lower end bottles were flying

around the head of the Count. The frightened women began to

beseech and weep; Telimena, with a cry of "Alas!" lifted her

eyes, rose, and fell in a faint; and, inclining her neck over the

Count's shoulder, laid upon his breast her swan's breast. The

Count, infuriated though he was, checked himself in his mad

career, and began to revive her and chafe her.