At the same moment, a loud voice within the circle abruptly exclaimed "She revives, she revives! Back, back, and give her air!"

Instantly, the throng swayed and fell back; and the dwarf, with a sort

of yell (whether of rage or relief, nobody knew), swept them from side

to side with a wave of his long arms, and cleared a wide vacancy for

his own especial benefit. The action gave the count an opportunity

of gratifying his curiosity. The object of attraction was now plainly

visible. Sir Norman's surmises had been correct. The green table of the

parliament-house of the midnight court had been converted, by the aid of

cushions and pillows, into an extempore couch; and half-buried in their

downy depths lay Miranda, the queen. The sweeping robe of royal purple,

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trimmed with ermine, the circlets of jewels on arms, bosom, and head,

she still wore, and the beautiful face was white: than fallen snow.

Yet she was not dead, as Sir Norman had dreaded; for the dark eyes were

open, and were fixed with an unutterable depth of melancholy on vacancy.

Her arms lay helplessly by her side, and someone, the court physician

probably, was bending over her and feeling her pulse.

As the count's eyes fell upon her, he started back, and grasped Sir

Norman's arm with consternation.

"Good heavens, Kingsley!" he cried; "it is Leoline, herself!"

In his excitement he had spoken so loud, that in the momentary silence

that followed the physician's direction, his voice had rung through the

room, and drew every eye upon them.

"We are seen, we are seen!" shouted Hubert, and as he spoke, a terrible

cry idled the room. In an instant every sword leaped from its scabbard,

and the shriek of the startled women rang appallingly out on the air.

Sir Norman drew his sword, too; but the count, with his eyes yet fixed

on Miranda, still held him by the arm, and excitedly exclaimed, "Tell me, tell me, is it Leoline?"

"Leoline! No--how could it be Leoline? They look alike, that's all. Draw

your sword, count, and defend yourself; we are discovered, and they are

upon us!"

"We are upon them, you mean, and it is they who are discovered," said

the count, doing as directed, and stepping boldly in. "A pretty hornet's

next is this we have lit upon, if ever there was one."

Side by side with the count, with a dauntless step and eye, Sir Norman

entered, too; and, at sight of him a burst of surprise and fury rang

from lip to lip. There was a yell of "Betrayed, betrayed!" and the

dwarf, with a face so distorted by fiendish fury that it was scarcely

human, made a frenzied rush at him, when the clear, commanding voice of

the count rang like a bugle blast through the assembly, "Sheathe your swords, the whole of you, and yield yourselves prisoners.

In the king's name, I command you to surrender."




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