s simple as to frown and
meant no more; as she was ashamed of herself and her husband, she could
hardly hope to lift her honest eyes, or temper her furious blushing.

It would be untrue to say that the Borgia's eager under-current of
love-language stirred her not at all. Even to her the man's fame made
his homage a tribute; something it was, beyond doubt, to be courted by
the greatest prince in Italy. And he had not touched her yet. Amilcare,
whose desperate grinning made his jaws ache, noticed so much as he
watched her, fidgeting in his place. His nails were for ever at his
teeth: when the fruit should come in he was to slip out, and Grifone to
crown the work. Meanwhile, the flagrant unconcern for his whereabouts
shown by the victim might have stung a blind worm to bite, or excused
any treachery. Amilcare had no rage at all and felt the need of no
excuse. All his anxiety was that Cesare should enmesh himself deep
enough; and then--! The thought of what should happen then set his head
singing a song as mad as Judith's.

The still Grifone stood behind his mistress and saw Cesare's golden head
sink near and yet nearer to her shoulder. He watched his arm over the
back of her seat, and how his other hand crept towards the lady's idle
pair. The room held those four, and them not long. In his time Amilcare
muttered some excuse and tiptoed out.

Cesare was saying, "Ah, give me love--love only--else I must die!"

Molly answered nothing with her lips, but in her bosom prayed
ceaselessly for pity.

"Love me, pledge me with your lips, let me drink of you, O my soul!"
sighed the Duke.

"Ecco, Madonna," said Grifone, and handed her the cup.

"The chalice of love!" cried Cesare, straining towards the white girl.
"Drink to me, my heart, and I will drink from thee!"

Molly still held the cup, though the liquor curved brimming at the lip.
Her eyes were sightless, her head shaking with palsy.

"Drink, drink, my soul!"

"Yes, my lord, yes, yes; I must drink very deep," she said, and raised
the cup.

"Pshutt!" said Grifone.

She turned like a caught beast, wild and blanched with horror. She rose
suddenly, swaying on her feet, entangled one of them in her long robe
and stumbled forward to stay herself by the table. She looked like some
spurred Bacchante, lurching over the board with the great flagon a-nod
in her hand. Cesare made to catch her in his arms, and reached for the
cup; but then she screamed with all her might and t