“One Wordless Minute.”
He caught her to him and held her there. The world reeled about them for one wordless minute, and then he released her and walked out across where the tower of the temple had once been, and he knew he was leaving her forever. A horse was waiting. He had said he could ride best in the moonlight, and a little later the hoof-beats sounded through the strumming guitars, and she knew it was over! It was her sacrifice for the oath to the dead, and she sank prostrate in the shadow of the altar. The tiny candles glimmered and went out, yet still she lay there. The moon in its soft yellow light flooded the open space without, but did not touch her. She had found the rosary and clasped it, her lips against the cold pearl figure of the sculptured Christ.
And then two persons came toward her through the arch of the old sacristy, one in the velvet and gold lace of a Spanish grandee, and the other a shimmer of brocade and pearl-gemmed lilies.
"No, I will not go without it," the woman's voice was saying, petulantly, "not though a dozen boats waited! Yes, I can slip away after the dance. Have a horse ready. Dolly will be sleeping; she is the greatest risk. But we can be out of sight of land long before the dawn breaks."
The man murmured some plea in her ear, and she turned away, shrugging her shoulders.
"The jewels first!" she said, with pretty decision. "The coin is a matter of course; we shall need that to live on. But the jewels—why not? Half of them belonged to your own family, and for the rest—well, you leave her enough to give the Church; that is all she lives for. Bring me the jewels at once: when I see them in my own hand, I am ready to promise everything."
"You are not afraid to wait here?"
"Yes, a little," she acknowledged. "It's a horrid, creepy place, but it's the one corner where no one else will come. I will wait for them here."
The woman prostrate before the Madalena arose to her feet and stood motionless in the shadow. Her hands were crossed unconsciously on her heart to quiet its beating. Her own sacrifice, then, was to go for nothing; the vow she had sworn to live for was to count for naught because of one little white vampire of a creature whose god was gold and jewels!
The crossed hands held the rosary and the dagger.