he had
really expended an incredible amount of magnetic power in attracting
Morok, whom he now saw close to the cavern entrance. The moment was
decisive. Crouching down with his dagger in his hand, following with eye
and gesture Death's every movement, who, roaring furiously, and opening
wide her enormous jaws, seemed determined to guard the entrance of
her den, Morok waited for the moment to rush upon her. There is such
fascination in danger, that Adrienne shared, in spite of herself, the
feeling of painful curiosity, mixed with terror, that thrilled through
all the spectators. Leaning forward like the marchioness, and gazing
upon this scene of fearful interest, the lady still held mechanically in
her hand the Indian bouquet preserved since the morning. Suddenly,
Morok raised a wild shout, as he rushed towards Death, who answered this
exclamation by a dreadful roar, and threw herself upon her master with
so much fury, that Adrienne, in alarm, believing the man lost, drew
herself back, and covered her fact with her hands. Her flowers slipped
from her grasp, and, falling upon the stage, rolled into the cavern in
which Morok was struggling with the panther.

Quick as lightning, supple and agile as a tiger, yielding to the
intoxication of his love, and to the wild ardor excited in him by the
roaring of the panther, Djalma sprang at one bound upon the stage, drew
his dagger, and rushed into the cavern to recover Adrienne's nosegay. At
that instant, Morok, being wounded, uttered a dreadful cry for help; the
panther, rendered still more furious at sight of Djalma, make the most
desperate efforts to break her chain. Unable to succeed in doing so, she
rose upon her hind legs, in order to seize Djalma, then within reach of
her sharp claws. It was only by bending down his head, throwing himself
on his knees, and twice plunging his dagger into her belly with the
rapidity of lightning, that Djalma escaped certain death. The panther
gave a howl, and fell with her whole weight upon the prince. For a
second, during which lasted her terrible agony, nothing was seen but a
confused and convulsive mass of black limbs, and white garments
stained with blood--and then Djalma rose, pale, bleeding, for he was
wounded--and standing erect, his eye flashing with savage pride, his
foot on the body of the panther, he held in his hand Adrienne's bouquet,
and cast towards her a glance which told the intensity of his love.
Then only did Adrienne feel