Adventure Magazine Cover — page 117: what you’re looking at

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

Can a Man be True? “Have you anything more to say?” asked the Queen, drawing her skirts aside as if the nearness of the dancer defiled her royal garments. “It is strange that a low- born gutter virago like yourself should be so intimately acquainted with the life his- tory of one whose private affairs can not possibly have reached your ears. I hope these vile slanders will go far to show the King what he gains by honoring his infe- riors and joining their drunken revels! No words of mine will be needed now to prove to him what you are. You have revealed your true self—you who trap the simple ones with your wiles and prey upon them like a human vampire! “T saw the brazen embrace you gave him as I entered this atmosphere of vice. The kiss was uninvited by which you sullied the royal forehead. You, who talk of crimes to me, seek to wreck the King’s manhood. With your fair speech you induced him to join this low company, who flatter openty and in secret seek to destroy their Sover- eign. You, Caroline de L’Isle, snared my son; you lured him to this house of ruin, and he went after you like an ox to the slaughter. Let my final words sink deep into your heart, for they are Bible words, and fit your case: ‘She hath cast down many wounded, yea, many strong men have been slain by her. Her house is the way to Hell, going down to the chambers of death!’”’ This last loudly uttered insult reached the far corners of the room, and the stinging words went home with cruel intensity, mad- dening the woman exposed to the calumny of the indignant Queen. A wild, shrill laugh, an insane laugh of uncontrollable rage, broke from Caroline. “Your final words,’ she shrieked, beside herself with passion, “to sink deeply into my heart, I give you in return, O Queen, something to sink into your heart—some- thing equally bitter!” With quick, agile hand, Mademoiselle de L’Isle snatched a knife from the table and plunged it to the hilt in Horatia’s breast! CHAPTER XXXIITI MALDIO LIVES! MAS a groan of agony the Queen’s heavy form sank to the ground. Caroline staggered back as if, for the mo- ment, she hardly realized her deed. The 681 startled assembly leaped to their feet and crowded round the fallen figure with vary- ing expressions of loathing and disgust. Gisdel pushed his way to his mother’s side, wading in her blood. He bent down and raised her head. Two faint words came from her gasping lips, words he be- lieved to be an illusion of the dying brain: ‘““Maldio lives!”’ As if by some strange witchcraft that last whispered acknowledgment came echoing through the open windows from the street below. The town criers were shouting exult- antly the news, which, once rumcred, spread like wildfire through the Capital: “ Azng Maldio rescued from the tomb! King Maldio to return! The royal vault empty! King Maldio yet lives!” The sight of the dead Queen and the cries of an excited mob in the thoroughfare which an hour since had been empty and deserted fired the revolutionary spirit of Caroline’s assembled guests. The assassination and the red vision of Horatia’s blood appeared to intoxicate them more violently than the recent champagne and cognac which flowed like water. The flushed faces grew vicious and menacing as they gathered round the dancer’s royal victim, and a low hissing sound burst from a chorus of lips. A tall,war- like singer from the opera, with massive chest and bull-like neck, kicked the body with an oath, spitting on the blood-stained garments. He was a strong believer in the Queen’s treachery to her stepson and dared not hope the amazing cries from the street could hold a grain of truth. In his loud, resonant voice he addressed the multitude: “Revenge the murder of Maldio!” he cried. “‘Death to King Gisdel, her partner in crime!” As the words broke on Gisdel’s ears his very lips grew blue. Letting the Queen’s head fall violently to the ground, he sprang from his kneeling position and took refuge behind Caroline, hearing the shout of appro- bation which greeted the murderous sug- gestion. In amoment those who had hailed him friend were thirsting for his blood. His chattering teeth and cowering attitude, as he clung for protection to Mademoiselle de L’Isle’s skirts, filled their dazed minds with contempt and loathing. “Save me! Caroline—save me!” he whis- pered, so softly that she alone could hear the plea. Quickly she looked from the livid face of COMICLOOCKKS. CO