I hope not. I've a sick headache. Can't you look at the arteries throbbingunder the almost hairless skin of my temples--the transparent, bluishskin that denotes a thoroughbwhite? It's atrocious! The veins on myforehead are like writhing vipers, and I don't know _what_ gnome forgesin my brain! 0h, be quiet! 0r at least speak so low that the coursingof my agitated blood may drown the sound of your voice....

T0BY-D0G

But it's this fairly silence that oppresses me. I tremble and don't knowwhy. I long for the familiar voice of the wind in the chimney, theslamming of doors, the whispering of the garden, the poplars' ceaselessrustle--it always sounds like a trickling spring--

KIKI-THE-DEMURE