One of the gauzy nymphs presented it to her,
kneeling, and she took it with a look half bored, half impatient,
and lightly scrawled her autograph. The long, dark lashes did
not lift; no change passed over the calm, cold face, as icily
placid as a frozen lake in the moonlight - evidently the life or
death of the stranger was less than nothing to her. To him she,
too, was as nothing, or nearly so; but yet there was a sharp
jarring pain at his heart, as he saw that fair hand, that had
saved him once, so coolly sign his death warrant now. But there
was little time left for to watch her; for, as she pushed it
impatiently away, and relapsed into her former proud
listlessness, the dwarf got up with one of his death's-head
grins, and began:
"Sir Norman Kingsley, you have been tried and convicted as a spy,
and the paid-hireling of the vindictive and narrow-minded
Charles; and the sentence of this court, over which I have the
honor to preside, is, that you be taken hence immediately to the
place of execution, and there lose your head by the axe!"
"And a mighty small loss it will be!" remarked the duke to
himself, in a sort of parenthesis, as the dwarf concluded his
pleasant observation by thrusting himself forward across the
table, after his rather discomposing fashion, and breaking out
into one of has diabolical laughter-chips.
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