The Midnight Queen [109]
began. Her last is
breathed on earth!"
"Peace be with her!" said the count, removing his hat, which, up
to the present, he had worn. "And now, Sir Norman, if we are to
keep our engagement at sunrise, we had better be on the move;
for, unless I am greatly mistaken, the sky is already grey with
day-dawn."
"What are your commands?" asked Sir Norman, turning away, with a
sigh, from the beautiful form already stiffening in death.
"That you come with me to seek out those frightened fair ones,
who are a great deal too lovely to share the fate of their male
companions. I shall give them their liberty to go where they
please, on condition that they do not enter the city. We have
enough vile of their class there already."
Sir Norman silently followed him into the azure and silver
saloon, where the crowd of duchesses and countesses were "weeping
and wringing their hands," and as white as so many pretty ghosts.
In a somewhat brief and forcible manner, considering his
characteristic gallantry, the count made his proposal, which,
with feelings of pleasure and relief, was at once acceded to; and
the two gentlemen bowed themselves out, and left the startled
ladies.
On returning to the crimson court, he commanded a number of his
soldiers to remain and bury the dead, and assist the wounded; and
then, followed by the remainder and the prisoners under their
charge, passed out, and were soon from the heated atmosphere in
the cool morning air. The moon was still serenely shining, but
the stars that kept the earliest hours were setting, and the
eastern sky was growing light with the hazy gray of coming morn.
"I told you day-dawn was at hand," said the count, as he sprang
into his saddle; "and, lo! in the sky it is gray already."
"It is time for it!" said Sir Norman, as he, too, got into his
seat; "this has been the longest night I have ever known, and the
most eventful one of my life."
"And the end is not yet! Leoline waits to decide between us!"
Sir Norman shrugged his shoulders.
"True! But I have little doubt what that decision will be! I
presume you will have to deliver up your prisoners before you can
visit her, and I will avail myself of the opportunity to snatch a
few moments to fulfill a melancholy duty of my own."
"As you please. I have no objection; but in that case you will
need some one to guide you to the place of rendezvous; so I will
order my private attendant, yonder, to keep you in sight, and
guide you to me when your business is ended."
The count had given the order to start, the moment they had left
the ruin, and the conversation had been carried on while riding
at a break-neck gallop. Sir Norman thanked him for his offer,
and they rode in silence until they reached the city, and their
paths diverged; Sir Norman's leading to the apothecary's shop
where be had left Ormiston, and the count's leading - he best
knew where. George - the attendant referred to - joined the
knight, and leaving his horse in his care, Sir Norman entered the
shop, and encountered the spectral proprietor at the door.
"What of my friend?" was his eager inquiry. "Has he yet shown
signs of returning consciousness?"
"Alas, no!" replied the apothecary, with a groan, that came
wailing up like a whistle; "he was so excessively dead, that
there was no use keeping him; and as the room was wanted for
other purposes, I - pray, my dear sir, don't look so violent - I
put him in the pest-cart and had him buried."
"In the plague-pit!" shouted Sir Norman, making a spring at him;
but the man darted off like a ghostly flash into the inner room,
and closed and bolted the door in a twinkling.
Sir Norman kicked at it spitefully, but it resisted his every
effort; and, overcoming a strong temptation to smash every bottle
in the shop, he sprang once more into the saddle, and rode off to
the plague-pit. It was
breathed on earth!"
"Peace be with her!" said the count, removing his hat, which, up
to the present, he had worn. "And now, Sir Norman, if we are to
keep our engagement at sunrise, we had better be on the move;
for, unless I am greatly mistaken, the sky is already grey with
day-dawn."
"What are your commands?" asked Sir Norman, turning away, with a
sigh, from the beautiful form already stiffening in death.
"That you come with me to seek out those frightened fair ones,
who are a great deal too lovely to share the fate of their male
companions. I shall give them their liberty to go where they
please, on condition that they do not enter the city. We have
enough vile of their class there already."
Sir Norman silently followed him into the azure and silver
saloon, where the crowd of duchesses and countesses were "weeping
and wringing their hands," and as white as so many pretty ghosts.
In a somewhat brief and forcible manner, considering his
characteristic gallantry, the count made his proposal, which,
with feelings of pleasure and relief, was at once acceded to; and
the two gentlemen bowed themselves out, and left the startled
ladies.
On returning to the crimson court, he commanded a number of his
soldiers to remain and bury the dead, and assist the wounded; and
then, followed by the remainder and the prisoners under their
charge, passed out, and were soon from the heated atmosphere in
the cool morning air. The moon was still serenely shining, but
the stars that kept the earliest hours were setting, and the
eastern sky was growing light with the hazy gray of coming morn.
"I told you day-dawn was at hand," said the count, as he sprang
into his saddle; "and, lo! in the sky it is gray already."
"It is time for it!" said Sir Norman, as he, too, got into his
seat; "this has been the longest night I have ever known, and the
most eventful one of my life."
"And the end is not yet! Leoline waits to decide between us!"
Sir Norman shrugged his shoulders.
"True! But I have little doubt what that decision will be! I
presume you will have to deliver up your prisoners before you can
visit her, and I will avail myself of the opportunity to snatch a
few moments to fulfill a melancholy duty of my own."
"As you please. I have no objection; but in that case you will
need some one to guide you to the place of rendezvous; so I will
order my private attendant, yonder, to keep you in sight, and
guide you to me when your business is ended."
The count had given the order to start, the moment they had left
the ruin, and the conversation had been carried on while riding
at a break-neck gallop. Sir Norman thanked him for his offer,
and they rode in silence until they reached the city, and their
paths diverged; Sir Norman's leading to the apothecary's shop
where be had left Ormiston, and the count's leading - he best
knew where. George - the attendant referred to - joined the
knight, and leaving his horse in his care, Sir Norman entered the
shop, and encountered the spectral proprietor at the door.
"What of my friend?" was his eager inquiry. "Has he yet shown
signs of returning consciousness?"
"Alas, no!" replied the apothecary, with a groan, that came
wailing up like a whistle; "he was so excessively dead, that
there was no use keeping him; and as the room was wanted for
other purposes, I - pray, my dear sir, don't look so violent - I
put him in the pest-cart and had him buried."
"In the plague-pit!" shouted Sir Norman, making a spring at him;
but the man darted off like a ghostly flash into the inner room,
and closed and bolted the door in a twinkling.
Sir Norman kicked at it spitefully, but it resisted his every
effort; and, overcoming a strong temptation to smash every bottle
in the shop, he sprang once more into the saddle, and rode off to
the plague-pit. It was