Page:Idalia, by 'Ouida' volume 2.djvu/188

Rh its fiery struggle, its mortal misery, around, died from her memory, and grew dull upon her sense. She only remembered the man who lay here at her feet—dead; dead through the love he bore her; dead through the creeds she had breathed in him; dead for her and by her, as though her hand had slain him.

The fearless grandeur faded from her face, that had been there throughout all chance of her own death; it grew white, and cold, and fixed; a tearless grief, a burning remorse, were in her eyes, which only saw that crimson stream of flowing blood staining the tesselated floor, and that brave, bold, serene face turned upward to the light of million lamps studding like stars the vault of the dome above.

"Let them take me," she thought, "it is just. What am I better than a murderess?" From the gloom of the outer court rang once more the voice of command.

"Seize her! You can choke the dogs of rebels at your leisure."

She never heard the pitiless clarion of those clear tones; she never felt the hiss of the balls past her; she never saw the ghastly conflict that filled the palace festive chambers with its clamour and its