“Never, madame! And surely you will not be so pitilessly cruel as to draw back, now?”
“No, I have promised, and I shall perform; and let the consequences be what they may, they will rest upon your own head. You have been warned, and you still insist.”
“I still insist!”
“Then let us move farther over here into the shadow of the houses; this moonlight is so dreadfully bright!”
They moved on into the deep shadow, and there was a pulse throbbing in Ormiston's head and heart like the beating of a muffed drum. They paused and faced each other silently.
“Quick, madame!” cried Ormiston, hoarsely, his whole face flushed wildly.
His strange companion lifted her hand as if to remove the mask, and he saw that it shook like an aspen. She made one motion as though about to lift it, and then recoiled, as if from herself, in a sort of horror.
“My God! What is this man urging me to do? How can I ever fulfill that fatal promise?”
“Madame, you torture me!” said Ormiston, whose face showed what he felt. “You must keep your promise; so do not drive me wild waiting. Let me—”
He took a step toward her, as if to lift the mask himself, but she held out both arms to keep him off.