THE FIRST.
19
kindled her eyes with a fearful lustre—she raised her hand—so white, so spectral, that it scarcely cast a shadow in the moon light.
"I summon him before a higher tribunal than his own, to meet me."
The effort was too much, and she sank on Mimi’s shoulder; a spasm wrung her features, and they set in the marble calmness of a corpse.
The King, her husband, died at the same hour: and, within a week, Mimi was laid at the feet of her mistress.
