The Midnight Queen [108]
"They fled like a flock of frightened deer," said Hubert, taking
it upon himself to answer,"through yonder archway when the fight
commenced. I will go in search of them if you like."
"I am rather at a loss what to do with them," said the count,
half-laughing. "It would be a pity to bring such a cavalcade of
pretty women into the city to die of the plague. Can you suggest
nothing, Sir Norman?"
"Nothing, but to leave then here to take care of themselves, or
let them go free."
"They would be a great addition to the court at Whitehall,"
suggested Hubert, in his prettiest tone, "and a thousand times
handsomer than half the damsels therein. There, for instance, is
one a dozen timer more beautiful than Mistress Stuart herself!"
Leaning, in his nonchalant way, on the hilt of his sword, he
pointed to Miranda, whose fiercely-joyful eyes were fixed w with
a glance that made the three of them shudder, on the bloody floor
and the heap of slain.
"Who is that?" asked the count, curiously. "Why is she perched
up there, and why does she bear such an extraordinary resemblance
to Leoline? Do you know anything about her, Kingsley?"
"I know she is the wife of that unlovely little man, whose howls
in yonder passage you can hear, if you listen, and that she was
the queen of this midnight court, and is wounded, if not dying,
now!"
"I never saw such fierce eyes before in a female head! One would
think she fairly exulted in this wholesale slaughter of her
subjects."
"So she does; and she hates both her husband and her subjects,
with an intensity you cannot conceive."
"How very like royalty!" observed Hubert, in parenthesis. "If
she were a real queen, she could not act more naturally."
Sir Norman smiled, and the count glanced at the audacious page,
suspiciously; but Hubert's face was touching to witness, in its
innocent unconsciousness. Miranda, looking up at the same time,
caught the young knight's eye, and made a motion for him to
approach. She held out both her hands to him as he came near,
with the same look of dreadful delight.
"Sir Norman Kingsley, I am dying, and my last words are in
thanksgiving to you for having thus avenged me!"
"Let me hope you have many days to live yet, fair lady," said Sir
Norman, with the same feeling of repulsion he had experienced in
the dungeon. "I am sorry you have been obliged to witness this
terrible scene."
"Sorry!" she cried, fiercely. "Why, since the first hour I
remember at all, I remember nothing that has given me such joy as
what has passed now; my only regret is that I did not see them
all die before my eyes! Sorry! I tell you I would not have
missed it for ten thousand worlds!"
"Madame, you must not talk like this!" said Sir Norman, almost
sternly. "Heaven forbid there should exist a woman who could
rejoice in bloodshed and death. You do not, I know. You wrong
yourself and your own nature in saying so. Be calm, now; do not
excite yourself. You shall come with us, and be properly cared
for; and I feel certain you have a long and happy life before you
yet."
"Who are those men?" she said, not heeding him, "and who - ah,
great Heaven! What is that?"
In looking round, she had met Hubert face to face. She knew that
that face was her own; and, with a horror stamped on every
feature that no words can depict, she fell back, with a terrible
scream and was dead!
Sir Norman was so shocked by the suddenness of the last
catastrophe, that, for some time, he could not realize that she
had actually expired, until he bent over her, and placed his ear
to her lips. No breath was there; no pulse stirred in that
fierce heart - the Midnight Queen was indeed dead!
"Oh, this is fearful!" exclaimed Sir Norman, pale and horrified.
"The sight of Hubert, and his wonderful resemblance to her, has
completed what her wound and this excitement