There was a blush of shame upon Gabriel's downcast forehead; shame, mingled with suppressed rage.
"Shall we adjudge you to the lash?" and the judge looked first to Gabriel, then to the giant negro by his side.
Godlike raised his head; Esther shuddered as she beheld his look.
"The lash!" he echoed,—"No, by ——! The man does not live who dares speak of such a thing."
"I live, and I speak of it," responded the judge, calmly. "You forget that you are in my power; and, as you are well aware, (it is a maxim upon which you have acted all your life,) 'might makes right.' And why should you shudder at the mention of the lash? What is the torture, the disgrace of the lash, compared with the torture and disgrace which your deeds have inflicted upon thousands of your fellow men?"
Godlike uttered a frightful oath.—"You will drive me mad!" and he ground his teeth in impotent rage. It was a pitiful condition for a great statesman.
"No, no; the lash is too light a punishment for a criminal of your magnitude. Prisoner, stand up and hear the sentence of the court!"
Gabriel had a powerful will, but the will which spoke in the voice of that old man, his judge, was more powerful than his own. Reluctantly he arose to his feet, his broad chest panting and heaving beneath its scarlet attire.
"Unbind his arms." The masked attendants obeyed. Gabriel's bands were free.
"Secure him, at the first sign of resistance or of disobedience."