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sought to allay the flux of blood. The touch of the skin of that great
charlatan revolted her to the toes; the wound, in her ignorant eyes,
looked deathly; yet she contended with her shuddering, and, with more
skill at least than the Chancellor's, staunched the welling injury. An
eye unprejudiced with hate would have admired the Baron in his swoon; he
looked so great and shapely; it was so powerful a machine that lay
arrested; and his features, cleared for the moment both of temper and
dissimulation, were seen to be so purely modelled. But it was not thus
with Seraphina. Her victim, as he lay outspread, twitching a little, his
big chest unbared, fixed her with his ugliness; and her mind flitted for
a glimpse to Otto.
Rumours began to sound about the palace of feet running and of voices
raised; the echoes of the great arched staircase were voluble of some
confusion; and then the gallery jarred with a quick and heavy tramp. It
was the Chancellor, followed by four of Otto's valets and a litter. The
servants, when they were admitted, stared at the dishevelled Princess
and the wounded man; speech was denied them, but their thoughts were
riddled with profanity. Gondremark was bundled in; the curtains of the
litter were lowered; the bearers carried it forth, and the Chancellor
followed behind with a white face.
Seraphina ran to the window. Pressing her face upon the pane, she could
see the terrace, where the lights contended; thence, the avenue of lamps
that joined the palace and town; and overhead the hollow night and the
larger stars. Presently the small procession issued from the palace,
crossed the parade, and began to thread the glittering alley: the
swinging couch with its four porters, the much-pondering Chancellor
behind. She watched them dwindle with strange thoughts: her eyes fixed
upon the scene, her mind still glancing right and left on the overthrow
of her life and hopes. There was no one left in whom she might confide;
none whose hand was friendly, or on whom she dared to reckon for the
barest loyalty. With the fall of Gondremark, her party, her brief
popularity, had fallen. So she sat crouched upon the window-seat, her
brow to the cool pane; her dress in tatters, barely shielding her; her
mind revolving bitter thoughts.
Meanwhile, consequences were fast mounting; and in the deceptive quiet
of the night, downfall and red revolt were brewing. The litter had
passed forth between the iron gates and entered
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