Through that door there floated not a voice, for the silence was only broken by a faint, soft hum, like very distant music, but an unspoken command that impressed itself upon the spirit.
“Speak!”
Still the woman hesitated. Suddenly her lips moved again, mine following them: “But only through this can he be won.”
“I would have the desire of my heart,” she said aloud.
“It is thine,” was the silent answer; “to him who knocks at this door shall it be opened, and what he asks for there shall he receive, whether for good or ill. It is the law.”
“I would be fair, like those who enslave me. All that she has”—she pointed to my sister—“I would take from her and have for my own.”
“The power to obtain thy will is thine, whether thou be of the just or of the unjust. The spirit which commands shall be obeyed. It is the law.”
“And is there a penalty to be paid?”
“Thy act is the seed from which its penalty shall grow.”
The woman sighed.