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In the dark countenance of that pale boy Ill suiting one so youthful. Fernand drained The liquor to the dregs; yet, while he drank He felt the eagle glance of that strange Page Fix on him like a spell. With a wild laugh Of fearless taunting, he took back the cup— That laugh rang like a demon's curse! The sounds Of revelry one moment paused—they heard Muttered the words—'Vengeance!' 'Hermione!' Blanche broke the silence by her shriek—Fernand Had fallen from his seat, his face was black With inward agony—that draught bore fate! That Page had poisoned him!—In dread they turned To where the murderer was: she had not moved, But stood with fixed eyes; the clouds of death Were on her face—she too had pledged the cup!