arrested; all the wild justice of revenge, that had made him strong as lions are strong, turned worthless as at last he grasped its power in hÍs hands. The blow that struck him was memory—the memory of that death-hour when through her hands life had been given back to him.
By that hour he had sworn that she should ask what she would of him, and receive it. At last she claimed her debt; claimed by it the remission of her sins—claimed by it mercy to the companion of her guilt.
He stood motionless a moment, the leaden night-like shadows heavy as murder on his face and on his soul—then at her feet he dashed the Greek down, unharmed.
"What you ask by my honour—take by your shame."
And, without another look upon her face, he went out to the air, to the sea, to the day, ere his strength should fail him, and the stain of blood-guiltiness lie on his hands.
