"But no!" cried she, with a sudden resolution. "I will not live to see their triumph! I'll take the whole of it! it will shorten my sufferings. It will kill me in a minute—Oh, but to die! to die! and there's twenty years' life in me!—Suppose the old woman told me a lie? Suppose what she said was not true; or that the Jew did not tell Vandory what I fear he did? Why should he betray me? What good can it do him? I must know more about this matter before I proceed to extremities," said she, as she took her cloak, and restored the poison to its place in the desk.
Night had set in. Nobody observed the guilty woman as she crossed the court-yard and knocked at the cell in which the Jew was confined. The old nurse opened it. She looked aghast when she saw the sheriff's wife in that place and at that time.
"How does your patient go on?" asked Lady Rety.
"He's quiet now!" said the old woman. "When the gentlemen left him, he said he was happy now that the murder was out. He's been asleep since. Poor fellow! if he could but know that your ladyship's ladyship has condescended to ask how he is going on!"
"Leave the room!" said Lady Rety, with a trembling voice. "I want to speak to this man before he dies."
The old woman tarried; nor was it until the lady had repeated her command, that she left the room, muttering and discontented. When she was gone. Lady Rety approached the bed and spoke to the Jew.
He made no reply. His breath came thick and irregular. His limbs moved convulsively. The shadows of death were thickening over him.
Again and again she spoke to him. At length he raised his weary head, and stared vacantly at the Lady Rety.
"You do not know me," said she. "Look up, man! Tell me, do you know who I am?"
"Leave me alone," gasped Jantshi. "I've told you all I know. I've nothing more to say. Let me rest."