The Bronze Statue, or, The Virgin's Kiss — page 147: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE BRONZE STATUE. 145 that a being with so angelic a form could have become suddenly stamped with the iniquity of a fiend. ‘Mark you the dagger in her hand, I say!’ exclaimed Gloria. ‘ Behold— evenin death she clutches it, so terri- ble was her hatred against me! so in- tense her thirst for my blood "’ ‘Alas! alas!’ said De Colmar, sur- veying Gloria with looks that expressed a boundless compassion; “sad is thy destiny, beauteous lady, which has led thee to the commission of this deed! In true justice, thou art not to be blam- ed; twas life against life, and the death of one was inevitable in order to save the existence of the other! Yes, I do indeed behold that proof of the, menace which maddened thee to strike the fa- tal blow. But, oh! it is enough that the rough hands of man should be stained with blood, without the delicate fingers of woman becoming dabbled with the sangutne tide !’ ‘Is it possible that you hate me for this deed ?’ asked Gloria, approaching her countenance so close to De Colmar’s that he felt her pure breath upon his cheeks, while her appealing, half-terri- fied, yet lustrous eyes gazed tenderly into his own, and she laid her taper fingers upon his hand. ‘Hate you! Oh! no, no—that were impossible !’ cried De Colmar, speaking however, in the generous and impulsive enthusiasm which prompted him to console the Daughter of Glory, and dry the tears which had started forth from her long lashes. ‘For your sister’s sake, if not for your own, must lI re- spect and admire you; aye, and love you as if | were your brother. But would to God that it were a man who had fallen this day, and that it were my hand which had slain him ! ‘Oh! [ am unhappy—most unhap- py |’ exclaimed Gloria, bursting now into an agony of tears. ‘] see that you recoil from me—that you look upon me as if | were acold-blooded murderess —that it is only the generosity of your nature, and not the real state of your feeling, which has prompted you to speak kind words to me , ‘Cease this passionate weeping, Glo- ria; cease these bitter lamentations!’ interrupted De Colmar. ‘ You mis- hate you; I do not recoil from you—my God! no; butI pity you! I deplore the destiny which has led you to perpetrate this deed ; I]lament the fate which has — believe me, Gloria—believe me, when | assure you it is in this light that | con- template the appalling catastrophe!’ ‘And you still love me—as a sister ?’ murmured Gloria, drooping her radiant head upon his breast. ‘Do not doubt it!’ exclaimed the knight, gently disengaging himself from that contact which made him feel as if he were playing a treacherous part to the memory of Satanais. ‘And if it had been my sister whose hand had done that deed,’ said Gloria, looking up into De Colmar’s eyes with an expression of countenance so strange —so delicately martyrized—so suppli- cating and so deprecating, that he ex- perienced at the moment an irresistible fascination, a melting tenderness steal- ing over him, asif he felt that had there been no Satanais in the world he could have loved Gloria dearly—dearly. ‘What a strange question is this which you have asked me!’ he exclaim- ed, unable to withdraw his eyes from her ravishing countenance, which only required the olive tint and the raven hair to render it that of Satanais, so precisely the same was it in facial out- line and the form of all its lineaments. ‘ How astrange question ?’ demanded Gloria, her pearly teeth shining between the rich redness of her lips. ‘I ask you again, and I ask you seriously and earnestly, whether you would have re- coiled in horror from Satanais, had her hand dealt the blow ?’ And, as she uttered the last words of her query, she turned shudderingly to- wards the corpse that lay upon the flowery bank of the river. ‘Gloria,’:said De Colmar, ‘I should deplore the destiny which had prompt- ed this deed, as much in respect to Sa- tanais as with regard to yourself. But let us talk thereon no more, let us even cease to think, if possible, on so sad a subject. Benold—thus disappears the evidence of the deplorable adventure.’ And he hurled the corpse of Dame Martha into the stream. ‘Now, beauteous lady,’ continued the knight, ‘tell me in what manner I can serve you. In a few days | am compelled to leave Prague and return to Vienna,’ he observed, with a profound sigh, as he thought of the conditions judge me; you wrong me! I do not} imposed upon him by his sable conquer- or of the preceding night. ‘To Vienna!’ echoed Gloria. ‘Oh! ‘if I dared And she stopped short, casting down stained your hands with blood! Oh!!! her eyes in modest contusion. comicbooks.com crude “aati ee BP A ASR. SR Eee ells he ae, Gig Se — Vey a .. 452" <— & — ett ee ee bree | - a “Kus F « ~ ~*~ =9 - ~ ore wn hie. ~ Se = ra | : 7 . >t G'