sister is the Princess Osra." And he looked at her now with open admiration. But she did not heed his glance, but with face pale as death she seized a small table and drew it between them and cried: "Throw then, my lord! We know the stakes."
"If you win, Zenda is yours. If I win, you are mine."
"Yes, I and Zenda also," said she. "Throw, my lord!"
"Shall we throw thrice, madame, or once, or how often?"
"Thrice, my lord," she answered, tossing back her hair behind her neck, and holding one hand to her side. "Throw first," she added.
The Count rattled the box; and the throw was seven. Osra took the box from him, looked keenly and defiantly in his eyes, and threw.
"Fortune is with you, madame," said he, biting his lips. "For a five and a four make nine, or I err greatly."
He took the box from her; his hand shook, but hers was firm and steady; and again he threw.
"Ah, it is but five," said he impatiently, and a frown settled on his brow.
"It is enough, my lord," said Osra; and
