'Perhaps nothing!' roared Blue Beard in a terrible voice. 'Madam! your face tells me you are guilty. You have presumed to disobey me; to enter that room at the end of the corridor. Yes, madam; and, since you would sooner indulge your fancy for that room than obey my commands, you shall go there and stay as long as you like. Seven and one are eight, madam!'
'Mercy! Mercy!' cried Fatima, flinging herself at Blue Beard's feet. 'Do what you will with me, but do not put me in that room.'
She looked up sobbing, imploring his forgiveness; and, if a woman's beauty in despair could have melted a heart of stone, the sight of her would have melted his. But it will not astonish you to know that his heart was as flinty as his beard was blue, and Fatima realised this as she looked again at his terrible face.
'I have said it, madam,' he replied to her pleadings. 'None can disobey me and live. Prepare, then, for death.'
'Then,' said she, her imploring eyes brimming with tears, 'you will give me a little time to prepare? If I must die, I must say my prayers.'
'Ten minutes will suffice for that. Not a second more.'
Fatima hurried away towards her own room, but on the way she met her sister Anne, who was looking for her.
'Oh! dear Anne,' sobbed Fatima, as she embraced her sister; 'ask me no questions; there is no time. My husband has returned, and, because I disobeyed him, he has threatened to kill me. Oh! where are my brothers? If they were only here!'
'They are on the way hither,' said Anne quickly. 'They were delayed, but promised to follow me very soon.'
'Then run, dear sister, if you love me; run to the top of the tower, and, if you can see them coming, make a sign to them to hasten; for in ten minutes I must die.'