For that sacrifice she had been
prepared; but not for this horror that was thrust upon her now.
She crouched upon a tall-backed praying-stool, her gown not more white than
her face, her little hands convulsively clasped to make her prayer to that
monster who stood over her, his mottled face all flushed, his eyes glowing
as they considered her helplessness and terror with horrible, pitiless
greed.
Thus we observed them, ourselves unperceived for some moments, for the
praying-stool on which she crouched was placed to the left, by the cowled
fire-place, in which a fire of scented wood was crackling, the scene
lighted by two golden candlebranches that stood upon the table near the
curtained window.
"0, my lord!" she cried in her despair, "of your mercy leave me, and no man
shall ever know that you sought me thus. I will be silent, my lord. 0, if
you have no pity for me, have, at least, pity for yourself. Do not cover
yourself with the infamy of such a deed--a deed that will make you hateful
to all men."
"Gladly at such a price would I purchase your love, my Bianca! What pains
could daunt me? Ah, you are mine, you are mine!"
As the hawk that has been long poised closes its wings and drops at last
upon its prey, so swooped he of a sudden down upon her, caught and dragged
her up from the praying-stool to crush her to him.
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