"It will not add much to the burden, I ween."
She gave him one look, in which fear mingled with contempt and turned to go, when with a spring, stealthy as the panther's, he overtook her, and pinning down her arms, bent back the proud head and once more pressed his lips upon the woman's.
With a cry like a wounded animal she released herself, pushed him back with the strength of her vigorous youth and spat in his face.
"Do you still desire me?" she hissed with flaming eyes.
He sprang at her with a furious oath, but his outstretched fingers grasped the air. Theodora had vanished. Recoiling from the towering forms of the Africans, who guarded the corridor leading to her apartments, Benilo staggered blindly back into the dark deserted halls. Here he found himself face to face with Hezilo the harper, who seemed to rise out of the shadows like some ill-omened phantom.
"If you waver now," the harper spoke with his strange unimpassioned voice,—"you are lost!"
The Chamberlain stopped before the harper's arresting words.
"What can I do?" he groaned with a deep breath. "My soul half sinks beneath the mighty burden I have heaped upon it, it quails before the fatal issue."
"You have measured your strength with the woman's," replied the harper. "She has felt the conquering whip-hand. Onward! Unflinchingly! Relentlessly! She dare not face the final issue!"
"I need new courage, as the dread hour approaches!" Benilo replied, his breath coming fast between his set teeth. "And from your words, your looks, I drink it!"