Honestly , now , doctor , have you not stirred up the sober brains of some of your countrymen to enact a scene in our masquerade ? '' `` Perhaps , '' slyly remarked the granddaughter of Colonel Joliffe , whose high spirit had been stung by many taunts against New England -- `` perhaps we are to have a masque of allegorical figures -- Victory with trophies from Lexington and Bunker Hill , Plenty with her overflowing horn to typify the present abundance in this good town , and Glory with a wreath for His Excellency 's brow . '' Sir William Howe smiled at words which he would have answered with one of his darkest frowns had they been uttered by lips that wore a beard . He was spared the necessity of a retort by a singular interruption . A sound of music was heard without the house , as if proceeding from a full band of military instruments stationed in the street , playing , not such a festal strain as was suited to the occasion , but a slow funeral-march . The drums appeared to be muffled , and the trumpets poured forth a wailing breath which at once hushed the merriment of the auditors , filling all with wonder and some with apprehension . The idea occurred to many that either the funeral procession of some great personage had halted in front of the province-house , or that a corpse in a velvet-covered and gorgeously-decorated coffin was about to be borne from the portal . After listening a moment , Sir William Howe called in a stern voice to the leader of the musicians , who had hitherto enlivened the entertainment with gay and lightsome melodies . The man was drum-major to one of the British regiments . `` Dighton , '' demanded the general , `` what means this foolery ? Bid your band silence that dead march , or , by my word , they shall have sufficient cause for their lugubrious strains . Silence it , sirrah ! '' `` Please , Your Honor , '' answered the drum-major , whose rubicund visage had lost all its color , `` the fault is none of mine . I and my band are all here together , and I question whether there be a man of us that could play that march without book . I never heard it but once before , and that was at the funeral of his late Majesty , King George II . '' `` Well , well ! '' said Sir William Howe , recovering his composure ; `` it is the prelude to some masquerading antic . Let it pass . '' A figure now presented itself , but among the many fantastic masks that were dispersed through the apartments none could tell precisely from whence it came . It was a man in an old-fashioned dress of black serge and having the aspect of a steward or principal domestic in the household of a nobleman or great English landholder .
This figure advanced XXXXX the outer door of the mansion , and , throwing both its leaves wide open , withdrew a little to one side and looked back toward the grand staircase , as if expecting some person to descend .
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