Joe Toddyhigh glanced involuntarily at the eastern
window, and saw the first pale gleam of morning. He turned his
head again towards the other window in which the Giants had been
seated. It was empty. The cask of wine was gone, and he could
dimly make out that the two great figures stood mute and motionless
upon their pedestals.
After rubbing his eyes and wondering for full half an hour, during
which time he observed morning come creeping on apace, he yielded
to the drowsiness which overpowered him and fell into a refreshing
slumber. When he awoke it was broad day; the building was open,
and workmen were busily engaged in removing the vestiges of last
night's feast.
Stealing gently down the little stairs, and assuming the air of
some early lounger who had dropped in from the street, he walked up
to the foot of each pedestal in turn, and attentively examined the
figure it supported. There could be no doubt about the features of
either; he recollected the exact expression they had worn at
different passages of their conversation, and recognised in every
line and lineament the Giants of the night.
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