She too, was silent, apparently watching the effect of her spell upon him, sure of the ultimate fateful result. In reality she listened intently, as if expecting some unwelcome intrusion, and once her dark fear-struck eyes tried to penetrate the deep shadows of the grotto. She had heard something stir,—and a mad fear had seized her heart.
Eckhardt, unconscious of the woman's misgivings, gazed upon her as one dazed. He felt, if he could but speak the one word, he would be saved and yet—something warned him that, if that word escaped his lips, he would be lost. Half recumbent on her couch, Theodora watched her victim narrowly. A smile of delicate derision parted her lips, as she said:
"What ails you? Are you afraid of me? Can you not be happy, Eckhardt," she whispered into his brain, "happy as other men,—and loved?"
She bent toward him with arms outstretched. Closely she watched his every gesture, endeavouring, in her great fear, to read his thoughts.
"I cannot," he replied with a moan, "alas—I cannot!"
"And why not?" the enchantress whispered, bending closer toward him. She must make him her own, she must win the terrible wager; from out of the gloom she felt two eyes burning upon her with devilish glee. She preferred instant death to a life by the side of him she hated with all the strength of a woman's hate for the man who has lied to her, deceived her, and ruined her life. Noting the fateful effect of her blandishments upon him, she threw herself with a sudden movement against Eckhardt's breast, entwining him so tightly with her arms that she seemed to draw the very breath from him. Her splendid dark eyes, ablaze with passion, sank into his, her lips curved in a sweet, deadly smile. Roused to the very height of delirium, Eckhardt wound his arms round Theodora's body. A dizziness had seized him. For a moment Ginevra—past, present and future seemed forgotten. Closer and closer he felt himself drawn towards the fateful abyss—slowly the enchantress was drawing him onward,—until there would be no more resistance,—all flaming delirium, and eternal damnation.
With one white arm she reached for the goblet, but ere her fingers touched it, a shadowy hand, that seemed to come from nowhere and belong to no visible body, changed the position of the drinking vessels. Neither noted it. Theodora kissed the brim of the first goblet and started to sip from its contents when a sudden pressure on her shoulder caused her to look up. Her terror at what she saw was so great that it choked her utterance. Two terrible eyes gazed upon her from a white, passion-distorted face, which silently warned her not to drink. So great was her terror, that she noticed not that Eckhardt had taken the goblet from her outstretched hand, and putting it to his lips on the very place where the sweetness of her mouth still lingered, drained it to the dregs.
Wild-eyed with terror she stared at the man before her. A strange sensation had come over him. His brain seemed to be on fire. His resistance was vanquished. He could not have gone, had he wished to.
The night was still. The silence was rendered even more profound by the rustling of the storm among the leaves.
Suddenly Eckhardt's hand went to his head. He started to rise from his kneeling position, staggered to his feet, then as if struck by lightning he fell heavily against the mosaic of the floor.