midnight
-- `` How sweet ! '' -- `` How melancholy ! '' -- `` Go on , Margarita , do go on ! '' The Señorita de Delgado continued in this way : -- '' _ If at solitary midnight I am thinking _ _ Of my sweetheart 's ever blessed name , _ _ And before my spellbound memory slowly rises _ _ Her enchanting features limned in flame , -- _ _ Then 't is thou , O Hope , that softly prophesyest _ _ That my loved one will not say me nay ; _ _ Then 't is Hope alone that soothes my deep affliction , _ _ Promising a brighter , happier day . _ '' Just as this point was reached , and when the audience was getting ready to enjoy the unspeakable sweetness of a new strophe , even more passionate and more pathetic than the last , when the Señorita de Delgado was languorously laying her pudgy fingers on the strings of the instrument , and drooping her head still more languorously on her bosom in testimony of her bitter grief , there occurred one of those strange and terrible events , more terrible still from being unexpected , and therefore overwhelming , that suspend and for the time being cut short the use of speech : an extraordinary scene , occurring with such rapidity that it allowed no time for reflection , and left the spectators in the deepest consternation without power of interference . The parlor door was thrown violently open , and the eyes of the bystanders turned toward it , saw with surprise the pale face of a servant , who addressed his master , saying , -- `` Señor ! Señor ! ''