You could have knocked me down with a feather.

It is a trite metaphor, I know; but it is none the less excellent.

I repeat, therefore, unblushingly--you could have knocked me down with a feather.

I gasped.
The little man wiped his eyes.

He was the tearfullest adult I have ever met, and I once knew an Italian _prima donna_ with a temperament.
"Captain Vauvenarde?
The man with the shoebrush hair and the rolls of fat at the back of his neck?
Are you sure ?" The dwarf nodded.