The point of
Goisvintha's knife had struck deep, but, as yet, the fatal purpose of
the assassination had failed.
The girl's eyes were closed; her lips were parted in the languor of
suffering; one of her hands lay listless on her father's knee. A slight
expression of pain, melancholy in its very slightness, appeared on her
pale face, and occasionally a long-drawn, quivering breath escaped her--
nature's last touching utterance of its own feebleness! The old man, as
he sat by her side, fixed on her a wistful, inquiring glance. Sometimes
he raised his hand, and gently and mechanically moved to and fro the
long locks of her hair, as they spread over the head of the couch; but
he never turned to communicate with the other persons in the room--he
sat as if he saw nothing save his daughter's figure stretched before
him, and heard nothing save the faint, fluttering sound of her
breathing, close at his ear.
It was now dark, and one lamp hanging from the ceiling threw a soft
equal light over the room. The different persons occupying it presented
but little evidence of health and strength in their countenances, to
contrast them in appearance with the wounded girl; all had undergone the
wasting visitation of the famine, and all were pale and languid, like
her.
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