"But as to shape," resumed Sir Norman, eyeing the excited and

astonished little animal, still shrilly squealing, with the glance of

a connoisseur, "I confess I do not see it! The rat is straight and

shapely--which his highness, with all reverence be it said--is not, but

rather the reverse, if you will not be offended at me for saying so."

She broke into a short laugh that had a hard, metallic ring, and then

her face darkened, blackened, and she ground the foot that crushed the

rat fiercer, and with a sort of passionate vindictiveness, as if she had

the head of the dwarf under her heel.

"I hate him! I hate him!" she said, through her clenched teeth and

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though her tone was scarcely above a whisper, it was so terrible in its

fiery earnestness that Sir Norman thrilled with repulsion. "Yes, I hate

him with all my heart and soul, and I wish to heaven I had him here,

like this rat, to trample to death under my feet!"

Not knowing very well what reply to make to this strong and heartfelt

speech, which rather shocked his notions of female propriety, Sir Norman

stood silent, and looked reflectively after the rat, which, when she

permitted it at last to go free, limped away with an ineffably sneaking

and crest-fallen expression on his hitherto animated features. She

watched it, too, with a gloomy eye, and when it crawled into the

darkness and was gone, she looked up with a face so dark and moody that

it was almost sullen.

"Yes, I hate him!" she repeated, with a fierce moodiness that was quite

dreadful, "yes, I hate him! and I would kill him, like that rat, if I

could! He has been the curse of my whole life; he has made life cursed

to me; and his heart's blood shall be shed for it some day yet, I

swear!"

With all her beauty there was something so horrible in the look she

wore, that Sir Norman involuntarily recoiled from her. Her sharp eyes

noticed it, and both grew red and fiery as two devouring flames.

"Ah! you, too, shrink from me, would you? You, too, recoil in horror!

Ingrate! And I have come to save your life!"

"Madame, I recoil not from you, but from that which is tempting you

to utter words like these. I have no reason to love him of whom you

speak--you, perhaps, have even less; but I would not have his blood,

shed in murder, on my head, for ten thousand worlds! Pardon me, but you

do not mean what you say."

"Do I not? That remains to be seen! I would not call it murder plunging

a knife into the heart of a demon incarnate like that, and I would have

done it long ago and he knows it, too, if I had the chance!"




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