"So he has left you?" he said slowly.
"No. I am waiting."
Not a fold of her cloak stirred as she stood there to die. It seemed a
long time, but his hands did not move. Then he heard the sound of her
voice, very low and sweet, repeating a little prayer, but he only heard
the last words distinctly.
"--now, and in the hour of our death!"
His right hand moved slowly and found something in his pocket, and then
there was the sharp click of a strong spring, and a ray of moonlight
fell upon steel, and her voice was heard again.
"--in the hour of our death. Amen!"
An unearthly sound rent the stillness. The huge dog sat upright on his
haunches, his head thrown up and back, his terrible lower jaw trembling
as he howled, and howled again, waking great echoes where the roar of
wild lions had rung long ago.
Regina started, though she did not move a step; but an unreasoning fear
fell upon Ercole. He could not see her face, as the dark veil hung down.
She was so motionless and fearless; only the dead could be as fearless
of death and as still as she. Her breast was so white; her hands were
like marble hands, parting a black shroud upon it. She was something
risen from the grave to haunt him in that lonely place and drive him
mad; and the appalling howl of the great dog robe deafeningly on the
silence and trembled and died away, and began again.
Ercole's hand relaxed, and the knife fell gleaming at his feet.
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