not? Look upon my face, and judge."

He flung back his cowl, and the light fell full upon his countenance.
Upon the silence broke a sharp cry, in which fear and surprise were
strangely blended:

"Andre Lafossier!"

"Right, woman; you have not forgotten. Sunk as you are in shame and
evil deeds, conscience yet lives and haunts you. What do I know of
you? Enough to justify calling you joint heir with all the fiends of
hell, unless, like the thief on the Cross, repentance make white your
black soul. Yet, 'tis in my heart that yours is the sin against the
Spirit for which there is no forgiveness. Nothing in your face tells
me of an awakening soul. You are a Queen, you say? Ay, of evil, of
devils incarnate. I would rather be this poor woman bound to the stake
than you upon a throne. Do your worst with us, but know that Andre
Lafossier has nothing for you save disgust; still, as priest of Holy
Church, I hold open the door of salvation through Jesus Christ."

Evidences of struggle marked Naladi's face, yet by now she had
outwardly conquered the first shock of recognition, and stood a cold,
stately statue, with glittering eyes on the slender figure of the
priest.

"I care as little for your Romish mummery," she said sneeringly, "as I
do for the senseless rites of these savages. But I am glad it is you I
have in my power. If I am the queen of devils, they serve me well.
You are to die, Andre Lafossier. I might have spared you had you kept
your tongue, but after those words you die. I shall stand here and
mock you to the last breath. You say I have no soul; to-night you
shall know it true while I laugh at your agony."

She paused as if seeking to mark the effect of her words, but the
_pere_ merely stooped slightly, whispering some message of comfort into
the ear of Eloise. Then he stood erect again.

"As you will, woman; to die for Christ is gain."

The face of Naladi, which had been pale and drawn, flushed, her eyes
fairly blazing.

"So you dare mock me, you hireling priest!" she hissed. "'T is not for
long; I am no snivelling French girl, afraid of blood. And now I give
you a taste of my power."

As the words fell from her thin lips, she flung up one hand, exhibiting
with a peculiar gesture a glittering metallic substance shining in the
light. It must have been a signal for unrestrained sacrifice, for it
was greeted with fierce howls of delight, the savage herd pressing in
upon the prisoners, so t