beautiful face so suddenly presented to his view, as if it had been the head of Medusa, and had turned him to stone. But he was too used to the changes of his stirring time for surprise to last. His brow darkened, and his mouth contracted with a fierce expression of rage,—
"Where is the prisoner?" demanded he, in a tone scarcely audible.
"Far beyond the power of his enemies," replied Francesca.
"You contrived his escape, and remained in his place; you are therefore, doubtless, ready to meet the penalty which awaited him. I give you five minutes to prepare for death!" and, turning away, he began to pace the chamber with rapid steps.
Francesca felt, as who but must, the blood recede from her heart; but her self-possession deserted her not.
"Why," thought she, "should I care to die? Who do I leave behind to regret me? Life is my only link with life. Isolated and wretched, why should I care how early that is snapped? Guido, we shall meet sooner than we deemed!" and, leaning on the back of the chair, she hid her eyes with her hand, and strove to fix her thoughts on a far and other world.
