She could not have said whence it came, this sudden, wild rebellion that
tore her quivering heart, but it possessed her to the exclusion of all
besides. She had told herself a hundred times before that death, when it
came, would be welcome. Yet, now that death was so near her, she longed
with all her soul to live. She yearned unspeakably to flee away from
this evil place, to go out into the wide spaces of the earth and to feel
the sunshine that as yet had never touched her life.
They thought her cold and proud, these people who hated her; but could
they have seen the tears that rolled down her face that night there
might have been some among them to pity her. But she was the victim of
circumstance, bound and helpless, and, though her woman's heart might
agonise, there was none to know.
A sudden sound in the night--a sharp sound like the crack of a whip, but
louder, more menacing, more nerve-piercing. She turned, every muscle
tense, and listened with bated breath.
It had not come from the garden below her. The silence hung there like a
pall. Stay! What was that? The sound of a movement on the terrace under
her balcony--a muffled, stealthy sound.
There was no sentry there, she knew. The sentries on that side of the
palace were posted at the great iron gates that shut off the garden from
the road which ran along the shore to the fortress above.
A spasm of fear, sharp as physical pain, ran through her.
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