Imagine then my shame -- my horror, and my distress -- when the door opened, and, attended by two guards only, in walked _Nyleptha_.

The cushion could not be recalled (it missed the girl and hit one of the guards on the head), but I instantly and ineffectually tried to look as though I had not thrown it.

Good ceased his sighing, and began to murder Zu-Vendi at the top of his voice, and Sir Henry whistled and looked silly.

As for the poor girls, they were utterly dumbfounded.
And Nyleptha! she drew herself up till her frame seemed to tower even above that of the tall guards, and her face went first red, and then pale as death.
'Guards,' she said in a quiet choked voice, and pointing at the fair but unconscious disciple of Wackford Squeers, 'slay me that woman.' The men hesitated, as well they might.
'Will ye do my bidding,' she said again in the same voice, 'or will ye not ?' Then they advanced upon the girl with uplifted spears.
By this time Sir Henry had recovered himself, and saw that the comedy was likely to turn into a tragedy.
'Stand back,' he said in a voice of thunder, at the same time getting in front of the terrified girl.

'Shame on thee, Nyleptha -- shame! Thou shalt not kill her.' 'Doubtless thou hast good reason to try to protect her.
Thou couldst hardly do less in honour,' answered the infuriated Queen; 'but she shall die -- she shall die,' and she stamped her little foot.
'It is well,' he answered; 'then will I die with her.