'Yes,' said she, bowing the head with great dignity.
'Well, you speak, not like a girl, Leda,' said I, 'but like a full woman now. But still, reflect a minute.... O reflect! If you stayed where I left you, I should go back to you, and pretty soon, too: I know that I should. Tell me, then—reflect well, and tell me—do you definitely refuse to part with me?'
The answer was pretty prompt, cool, and firm:
'Yes; I lefuse.'
I left her then, took a turn down the path, and came back.
'Then,' said I, 'here are two matches in my grasp: be good enough to draw one.'
Now she was hit to the heart: I saw her eyes widen to the width of horror, with a glassy stare: she had read of the drawing of lots in the Bible: she knew that it meant death for me, or for her.
But she obeyed without a word, after one backward start and then a brief hovering in decision of thumb and forefinger over my held-out hand. I had fixed it in my mind that if she drew the shorter of the matches, then she should die; if the longer, then I should die.
She drew the shorter....