To her, as to me, danger was a trumpet call to nerve heart and strengthen soul.
She had been in peril of that which she most feared, but the light in her eye was not quenched, and the hand with which she touched mine, though cold, was steady.
"Is he dead ?" she asked.

"At court they called him the Black Death.

They said"-- "I did not kill him," I answered, "but I will if you desire it." "And his master ?" she demanded.

"What have you done with his master ?" I told her.

At the vision my words conjured up her strained nerves gave way, and she broke into laughter as cruel as it was sweet.