After the lapse of a few moments more, her strength returned--her
firmness was aroused. The last traces of grief and despair that had
hitherto appeared in her eyes vanished from them in an instant. Rage,
vengeance, ferocity, lowered over them as she crept stealthily forward
to the very side of the Goth, and, when the next gleam of the fire
played upon him, drew the knife fiercely across the back of his hands.
The cut was true, strong, and rapid--it divided the tendons from first
to last--he was crippled for life.
At that instant the fire touched the very heart of the log that had been
laid on it. It crackled gaily; it blazed out brilliantly. The whole
room was as brightly illuminated as if a Christmas festival of ancient
England had been preparing within its walls!
The warm, cheerful light showed the Goth the figure of his assassin, ere
the first cry of anguish had died away on his lips, or the first start
of irrepressible horror ceased to vibrate through his frame. The cries
of his hapless companion, as the whole scene of vengeance, treachery,
and mutilation flashed in one terrible instant before her eyes, seemed
not even to reach his ears.
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