All spring up in consternation._
ARJILLAX. She meant to kill him.
STREPHON. This is horrible.
THE FEMALE FIGURE [_wrestling with Pygmalion_] Let me go. Let me go,
will you [_she bites his hand_].
PYGMALION [_releasing her and staggering_] Oh!
_A general shriek of horror echoes his exclamation. He turns deadly
pale, and supports himself against the end of the curved seat._
THE FEMALE FIGURE [_to her consort_] You would stand there and let me be
treated like this, you unmanly coward.
_Pygmalion falls dead._
THE NEWLY BORN. Oh! Whats the matter? Why did he fall! What has happened
to him?
_They look on anxiously as Martellus kneels down and examines the body
of Pygmalion._
MARTELLUS. She has bitten a piece out of his hand nearly as large as a
finger nail: enough to kill ten men. There is no pulse, no breath.
ECRASIA. But his thumb is clinched.
MARTELLUS. No: it has just straightened out. See! He has gone. Poor
Pygmalion!
THE NEWLY BORN. Oh! [_She weeps_].
STREPHON. Hush, dear: thats childish.
THE NEWLY BORN [_subsiding with a sniff_]!!
MARTELLUS [_rising_] Dead in his third year.
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