He was ready to kill the temptress as he would a beautiful viper.
The Lady Sybilla looked upon him, but in a dazed fashion, like one who rests between the turns of the rack.

In a little while she appeared to recognise him.

She noted the sword in his hand, the death in his eye--and for the first time since the scene in the courtyard of Edinburgh Castle, she smiled.
Then the fury in Sholto's heart broke suddenly forth.
"Woman," he cried, "show me cause why I should not slay you.

For, by God, I will, if aught of harm hath overtaken my master.

Speak, I bid you, speak quickly, if you have any wish to live." But the Lady Sybilla continued to smile--the same dreadful, mocking smile--and somehow Sholto, with his weapon bare and his arm nerved to the thrust, felt himself grow weak and helpless under the stillness and utter pitifulness of her look.
"You would kill me--kill _me_, you say--" the words came low and thrilling forth from lips which were as those of the dead whose chin has not yet been bound about with a napkin, "ah, would that you could! But you cannot.