"Do
not believe the tales they tell you of me. For Heaven's sake,
spare my life!"
"Confess!" thundered the dwarf, striking the table with his
clinched fist, until all the papers thereon jumped spasmodically
into the air-"confess at once, or I shall run you through where
you stand!"
The earl, with a perfect screech of terror, flung himself flat
upon his face and hands before the queen, with such force, that
Sir Norman expected to see his countenance make a hole in the
floor.
"O madame! spare me! spare me! spare me! Have mercy on me as you
hope for mercy yourself!"
She recoiled, and drew back her very garments from his touch, as
if that touch was pollution, eyeing him the while with a glance
frigid and pitiless as death.
"There is no mercy for traitors!" she coldly said. "Confess your
guilt, and expect no pardon from me!"
"Lift him up!" shouted the dwarf, clawing the air with his hands,
as if he could have clawed the heart out of his victim's body;
"back with him to his place, guards, and see that he does not
leave it again!"
Squirming, and writhing, and twisting himself in their grasp, in
very uncomfortable and eel-like fashion, the earl was dragged
back to his place, and forcibly held there by two of the guards,
while his face grew so ghastly and convulsed that Sir Norman
turned away his head, and could not bear to look at it.
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