Part 11 (2/2)

There followed a pause. Then Thord called in a clear low tone--

”Lotys!”

The woman sitting in the embrasure of the window rose, and turning round fully confronted all the men. Her black cloak falling back on either side, disclosed her figure robed in dead white, with a scarlet sash binding her waist. Her face, pale and serene, was not beautiful; yet beauty was suggested in every feature. Her eyes seemed to be half closed in a drooping indifference under the white lids, which were fringed heavily with dark gold lashes. A sculptor might have said, that whatever claim to beauty she had was contained in the proud poise of her throat, and the bounteous curve of her bosom, but though in a manner startled by her appearance, the three men who had chanced upon this night's adventure were singularly disappointed in it. They had somehow expected that when that mysterious cloaked feminine figure turned round, a vision of dazzling beauty would be disclosed; and at the first glance there was nothing whatever about this woman that seemed particularly worthy of note. She was not young or old--possibly between twenty-eight or thirty. She was not tall or short; she was merely of the usual medium height,--so that altogether she was one of those provoking individuals, who not seldom deceive the eye at first sight by those ordinary looks which veil an extraordinary personality.

She stood like an automatic figure, rigid and silent,--till Sergius Thord signed to his three new a.s.sociates to advance. Then with a movement, rapid as a flash of lightning, she suddenly drew a dagger from her scarlet girdle, and held it out to them. Nerved as he was to meet danger, Pasquin Leroy recoiled slightly, while his two companions started as if to defend him. As she saw this, the woman raised her drooping eyelids, and a pair of wonderful eyes shone forth, dark blue as iris-flowers, while a faint scornful smile lifted the corners of her mouth. But she said nothing.

”There is no cause to fear!” said Sergius Thord, glancing with a touch of derision in his looks from one to the other, ”Lotys is the witness of all our vows! Swear now after me upon this drawn dagger which she holds,--lay your right hands here upon the blade!”

Thus adjured, Pasquin Leroy approached, and placed his right hand upon the s.h.i.+ning steel.

”I swear in the name of G.o.d, and in the presence of Lotys, that I will faithfully work for the Cause of the Revolutionary Committee,--and that I will adhere to its rules and obey its commands, till all shall be done that is destined to be done! And may the death I deserve come suddenly upon me if ever I break my vow!”

Slowly and emphatically Pasquin Leroy repeated this formula after Sergius Thord, and his two companions did the same, though perhaps less audibly. This ceremony performed, the woman called Lotys looked at them steadfastly, and the smile that played on her lips changed from scorn to sweetness. The dark blue iris-coloured eyes deepened in l.u.s.tre, and flashed brilliantly from under their drowsy lids,--a rosy flush tinted the clear paleness of her skin, and like a statue warming to life she became suddenly beautiful.

”You have sworn bravely!” she said, in a low thrilling voice. ”Now sign and seal!”

As she spoke she lifted her bare left arm, and p.r.i.c.ked it with the point of the dagger. A round, full drop of blood like a great ruby welled up on the white skin. All the men had risen from their places, and were gathered about her;--this 'taking of the oath' was evidently the dramatic event of their existence as a community.

”The pen, Sergius!” she said.

Thord approached with a white unused quill, and a vellum scroll on which the names of all the members of the Society were written in ominous red.

He handed these writing implements to Leroy.

”Dip your pen here,” said Lotys, pointing to the crimson drop on her arm, and eyeing him still with the same half-sweet, half-doubting smile--”But when the quill is full, beware that you write no treachery!”

For one second Leroy appeared to hesitate. He was singularly unnerved by the glances of those dark blue eyes, which like searchlights seemed to penetrate into every nook and cranny of his soul. But his recklessness and love of adventure having led him so far, it was now too late to retract or to reconsider the risks he might possibly be running. He therefore took the quill and dipped it into the crimson drop that welled from that soft white flesh.

”This is the strangest ink I have ever used!” he said lightly,--”but--at your command, Madame----!”

”At my command,” rejoined Lotys, ”your use of it shall make your oath indelible!”

He smiled, and wrote his name boldly 'Pasquin Leroy' and held out the pen for his companions to follow his example.

”Ach Gott!” exclaimed Max Graub, as he dipped the pen anew into the vital fluid from a woman's veins--”I write my name, Madame, in words of life, thanks to your condescension!”

”True!” she answered,--”And only by your own falsehood can you change them into words of death!”

Signing his name 'Max Graub,' he looked up and met her searching gaze.

Something there was in the magnetic depth of her eyes that strangely embarra.s.sed him, for he stepped back hastily as though intimidated. Axel Regor took the pen from his hand, and wrote his name, or rather scrawled it carelessly, almost impatiently,--showing neither hesitation nor repugnance to this unusual method of subscribing a doc.u.ment.

”You are acting on compulsion!” said Lotys, addressing him in a low tone; ”Your compliance is in obedience to some other command than ours!

And--you will do well to remain obedient!”

Axel Regor gave her an amazed glance,--but she paid no heed to it, and binding her arm with her kerchief, let her long white sleeve fall over it.

”So, you are enrolled among the sons of my blood!” she said, ”So are you bound to me and mine!” She moved to the further end of the table and stood there looking round upon them all. Again the slow, sweet, half-disdainful smile irradiated her features. ”Well, children!--what else remains to do? What next? What next can there be but drink--smoke--talk! Man's three most cherished amus.e.m.e.nts!”

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