The Enchantress’s face grew white; all her beauty seemed to have faded. She pressed close to him, her fingers opening and shutting, as though she would tear him to pieces.
“I hate you!” he exclaimed again. “Woman though you are, if my hands were free, I would kill you.”
“You all shall die,” said the Enchantress. “First you shall see the woman die, you traitor; then her companion; then you shall die yourself. No one lives to offend me twice.”
Then she turned to the Bat-King. “Send for your subjects,” she cried, “and let us kill them before I leave this forest. I will not go back to my castle till I have seen them slain with torments.”
The Bat-King held up his spear, and his creatures came flocking from every thicket till the place looked like a billowy sea of black wings.
The King’s heart sank; he cared little for torment and pain or the loss of his own life, but he could not bear the thought of seeing the Princess die. But she looked bravely at him.
“We have met again,” she said, “so I am happy. And now we are going to die for each other.” Then she turned to the old man. “Giroflé is dead,” said she, “and they have taken Amulet—I know not where; but you have stayed to the end with me. I have nothing to reward you with, but I will do all I can for you. Lady,” she continued, “neither I nor the King would ask for our lives, even if you were willing to grant them. But this old man, my faithful servant, has done you no harm. I beg you to spare him.”
“He shall die first, that you may see it,” replied the Enchantress, with a look of hatred.
But at this moment there was a sudden movement among the Bat-people, and all their dark arms were raised, pointing in one direction. For, far away eastward, beyond the tree-trunks, the first pale streaks of morning lay along the edge of the world.
“It is too late,” cried the Bat-King. “In a few minutes the dawn will be upon us, and we shall not be able to see.”