unsparingly, he took pains not to hide that they had found her terrified, reduced to wretchedness, so sick that it could be seen how they had treated her in the fashion of hangmen, and that if she had remained longer in their dreadful hands she would have withered and died, just as flowers wither and perish when trampled. After this new narrative came the no less gloomy roar of the approaching tempest. Meanwhile bronze-colored cloud-packs rolled forward more and more mightily over Spyhov.
Yurand listened without a movement or a quiver, so that it might have seemed to those before him that he was sleeping But he heard every word and understood it, for when Hlava spoke of Danusia's misery, two great tears gathered in his empty eye-pits and flowed down his cheeks. Of all earthly feelings, there remained to him only this one: love for his daughter.
Then his bluish lips moved in prayer. Outside were heard still distant thunderpeals, and from moment to moment lightning illuminated the windows. Yurand prayed long, and tears fell to his white beard a second time. At last he ceased to weep, and a long silence followed, which continuing beyond measure grew irksome to those present, for they knew not what to do with themselves.
At last old Tolima, the right hand of Yurand, his comrade in all battles, and the main guardian of Spyhov, said,—
"Standing before you, lord, is that hell-dweller, that wolfman of the Order who tortured your child and tortured you; let me know by a sign what I am to do with him, and how I am to give him punishment."
At these words a sudden light passed over Yurand's face, and he motioned to bring the prisoner near him.
In a twinkle two attendants seized Siegfried by the shoulders and brought him to the master of Spyhov. Yurand stretched out his hand and passed his palm over Siegfried's face, as if wishing to recall those features, or impress them on his memory for the last time, then he dropped his hand to the captive's breast, felt the arms lying on it crosswise, touched the cords,—and, closing his eyes, bent his head forward.
Those present supposed that he was meditating. But whatever he was doing, the act did not last long, for after a while he recovered and directed his hand toward the loaf into which was thrust the ominous misericordia.
