"Let us go," said the queen, glancing at the revolting sight, and
turning away with a shudder of repulsion. "Faugh! The sight of blood has
made me sick."
"And taken away my appetite for supper," added a youthful and elegant
beauty beside her. "My Lord Gloucester was hideous enough when living,
but, mon Dieu! he is ten times more so when dead!"
"Your ladyship will not have the same story to tell of yonder stranger,
when he shares the same fate in are hour or two!" said the dwarf, with a
malicious grin; "for I heard you remarking upon his extreme beauty when
he first appeared."
The lady laughed and bowed, and turned her bright eyes upon Sir Norman.
"True! It is almost a pity to cut such a handsome head off--is it not? I
wish I had a voice in your highness's council, and I know what I should
do."
"What, Lady Mountjoy?"
"Entreat him to swear fealty, and become one of as; and--"
"And a bridegroom for your ladyship?" suggested the queen, with a
curling lip. "I think if Sir Norman Kingsley knew Lady Mountjoy as well
as I do, he would even prefer the block to such a fate!"
Lady Mountjoy's brilliant eyes shone like two angry meteors; but she
merely bowed and laughed; and the laugh was echoed by the dwarf in his
shrillest falsetto.
"Does your highness intend remaining here all night?" demanded the
queen, rather fiercely. "If not, the sooner we leave this ghastly place
the better. The play is over, and supper is waiting."
With which the royal virago made an imperious motion for her attendant
sprites in gossamer white to precede her, and turned with her accustomed
stately step to follow. The music immediately changed from its doleful
dirge to a spirited measure, and the whole company flocked after her,
back to the great room of state. There they all paused, hovering in
uncertainty around the room, while the queen, holding her purple train
up lightly in one hand, stood at the foot of the throne, glancing at
them with her cold, haughty and beautiful eyes. In their wandering,
those same darkly-splendid eyes glanced and lighted on Sir Norman,
who, in a state of seeming stupor at the horrible scene he had just
witnessed, stood near the green table, and they sent a thrill through
him with their wonderful resemblance to Leoline's. So vividly alike were
they, that he half doubted for a moment whether she and Leoline were not
really one; but no--Leoline never could have had the cold, cruel heart
to stand and witness such a horrible eight. Miranda's dark, piercing
glance fell as haughtily and disdainfully on him as it had on the rest;
and his heart sank as he thought that whatever sympathy she had felt for
him was entirely gone. It might have been a whim, a woman's caprice, a
spirit of contradiction, that had induced her to defend him at first.
Whatever it was, and it mattered not now, it had completely vanished. No
face of marble could have been colder, of stonier, or harder, than hers,
as she looked at him out of the depths of her great dark eyes; and with
that look, his last lingering hope of life vanished.