With his furious voice blended a yell of terror, of agony, a faint cry of horror from Gaudiosus, and a woman's scream.

Then came silence.
The priest dropped to his knees by Marcian's prostrate form.

Basil, the stained weapon in his crimson hand, stared at Veranilda, who also had fallen.
'Man! What hast thou done ?' gasped Gaudiosus.
The trembling, senile tones wakened Basil as if from a trance.

He thrust his dagger into its sheath, stepped to the back of the room, and bent over the white loveliness that lay still.
'Is it death ?' he murmured.
'Death! death!' answered the priest, who had just heard Marcian's last sob.
'I speak not of that perjured wretch,' said Basil.

'Come hither.' Gaudiosus obeyed, and looked with wonder at the unconscious face.
'Who is this ?' he asked.
'No matter who.