that should offer to stir contrary to my directions.
On my return to the marchioness, I found her quite recovered. She had risen from the sopha, rejected the gory remains of Bernardos, and kneeling before a chair at some distance from him, awaited her own fate. She was; quite sure of death, and wished for it. How could she ever have looked again into my face, without finking to the ground overwhelmed with shame?
On my entering the room she startled. Every feature of her countenance was altered, and she was the picture of horror and despondence. Her hair stood frightfully an end, and some locks dyed with the blood of her gallant hung over her forehead. The lustre of her eyes was extinct, and blinked quite ghastly at her supposed executioner. Her lips contracted by grief, only opened to give vent to her agonizing moans.
Instead of being moved by this horrid spectacle, my indignation only became the more vehement. I laid down my piece, which I was still holding in my hand, went to the window,
