“Through me!” she cried, her blue eyes flashing glorious menace; “Through me your shots! Through me your daggers! On me your destroying hands! Through my body alone shall you reach this King! Stand back all of you! What would you do? King or commoner, he is your comrade and associate! Sovereign or servant, he is the bravest man among you! Touch him who dare! Remember your Vow of Fealty!”
Transfigured into an almost sublime beauty by the fervour of her emotion, she looked the supreme incarnation of inspired womanhood, and the infuriated men fell back, dismayed and completely overwhelmed by the strong conviction of her words, and the amazing situation in which they found themselves.
It was true!—he, the King,—whom they had accepted and known as Pasquin Leroy,—was verily their own comrade! He had proved himself a thousand times their friend and helper!—they had sworn to defend him at the cost of their own lives, if need be,—to shelter and protect him in all circumstances, and to accept all the consequences of whatever danger he might run in the performance of his duty. His duty now,—according to the fatal drawing of lots,—was that he should kill the King; and he had declared himself ready to fulfil the task by killing himself! But—as he was their comrade—they were bound in honour to guard his life!
These bewildering and maddening thoughts coursed like fire through the brain of Sergius Thord,—the while his eyes, grown suddenly dark and bloodshot, rested wonderingly on the tall upright figure of the monarch, standing quietly face to face with the blood-thirsty Revolutionary Committee, entirely unmoved by their fierce and lowering looks, and on Lotys, white, beautiful and breathless, kneeling at his feet! A crushing sense of impotence and failure rushed over his soul like a storm wave,—his brain grew thick with the hurrying confusion, and a great cry, like that of a wounded animal, broke from his lips.
“My God! My God! All my life’s work lost—in a single moment!”
The King heard. Gently, and with careful courtesy, raising Lotys from the position in which she had thrown herself to guard him from attack for the second time, he pressed her hands tenderly in his own.
“Trust me!” he whispered; “Have no fear! Not a man among them will touch me now!”
With a slight gesture he signed her back to the chair she had previously occupied. She sank into it, trembling from head to foot, but her eyes feverishly brilliant and watchful, were widely open and alert, ready to note the least movement or look that indicated further danger. Then the King addressed himself to Thord.
“Sergius, I am entirely in your hands! I wait your word of command! You are armed,—all my companions here are armed also! But Lotys has deprived me of the only weapon I possessed,—though there are plenty more in the room to be had on loan. What say you? Shall I kill the King? Or will you?”
Thord was silent. A strong shudder shook his frame. The King laid a firm hand on his shoulder.