Part 39 (2/2)

”Yes, darling,” he answered. ”The heart comes first, and the heart is a tyrant. Supposing my heart says to yours, 'You shall love me; I will have it at any cost;' is not that tyranny?”

”Perhaps,” said Leonora, smiling and touching his hand. ”But then it is quite a mutual tyranny, you know, because I say it to you, too,--and you do it.”

”I always do everything you say, darling,” he answered lovingly.

”Always?”

”Always;--and I always will, Leonora.”

”Do you think, Julius--it is a foolish question--do you think you would die for me, if it were necessary?”

”You know I would, dear,” he said quietly.

”Yes; I am sure you would,” she answered. ”Do you know? I used to think that one ought to be willing to die for those one loves; and I like to think that you would give your life for me. Of course it could never happen--but then--Don't laugh at me, Julius.”

”Why should I laugh?” he said. ”What you say is serious enough, I am sure.”

”No--but I thought you might. You laugh at so many things--I am always afraid you will laugh at my love”--

It was five o'clock.

Marcantonio, issuing from the door in the garden wall, saw Julius and Leonora some twenty yards away, in the summer-house. He gave the servant a franc for showing him the way, and the man retired. He stood alone, watching the pair, for he could see them very distinctly. They were so placed that they would see him if they turned and looked upward, but they did not move, nor hear him. Leonora was nearest to him, and was leaning back a little, so that she could not see him; Batis...o...b.. held her hand, and was looking at it, and gently caressing the fair, white fingers as he talked.

Marcantonio turned away for a moment, and got out his revolver. It was clean and bright, and he had examined it,--but he would look once more, just to be sure there was a cartridge in each chamber, especially in that one beneath the barrels. One could not be too certain of one's weapon. There was no mistake,--everything was in order. The hour was come.

The hideous maniac smile played over his delicate features, and he stepped cautiously forward, holding the pistol behind him. Every step he gained before they observed him was an advantage. And besides, Leonora was between him and Batis...o...b... It was not a fair shot, and it was too far.

He did not want to kill her; he would take her home with him, when he had killed Julius Batis...o...b... He had ordered the little carriage to wait for them. How happy she would be! Cautiously he moved on, ready for action if they saw him. He trod so softly, so softly, it was like velvet on the gra.s.s.

Then, as he came nearer,--not ten paces off,--he brought his pistol before him and held it ready. So softly he had crept to them that they had not yet heard him, as the summer wind blew gently through the long gra.s.ses and the vines about the old bower, and made a sweet murmur of its own.

--”I am always afraid you will laugh at my love”--Leonora was saying, but the words that were to follow were never spoken.

Some slight sound caught her quick woman's ear, and she looked up in the direction whence it came. There stood her husband, not ten paces from her, with an expression in his face which would have frozen the marrow in the bones of a wild beast.

The clean polished barrel of the pistol was pointed full at Batis...o...b...

Leonora saw that, and saw that Marcantonio's eyes were fixed on her lover and not on herself. Batis...o...b.. saw it all as well as she, one second later. But that one second was enough.

With a spring and a clutching turn, as a tigress will cover her young with herself and turn glaring on her pursuers, Leonora threw her strong, lithe body upon Julius, forcing him back to his seat, and she turned and looked Marcantonio in the face. Their eyes met for one moment. But it was too late: the finger had pulled the trigger and the ball sped true.

Without a sound, without a cry, she fell upon her lover's breast. There she fell, there she died.

From the death wound the heart's blood fell in great drops; it fell down to the ground.

She died for his sake whom she loved; she died, she gave for him her life, the joy and the woe and the love of it for his sake.

Do you ask what is the moral of this? Ask it of yourselves.

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