rner to the left. But nothing of either could she
make out. She must wait for the lightning.

It came, and for a second or more the room shone. The window, the low
truckle-bed, the sleeper, she saw all with dazzling clearness, and before
the flash had well passed she was crouching low, with the hood of her
cloak dragged about her face. For the glare had revealed Count Hannibal;
but not asleep! He lay on his side, his face towards her; lay with open
eyes, staring at her.

Or had the light tricked her? The light must have tricked her, for in
the interval between the flash and the thunder, while she crouched
quaking, he did not move or call. The light must have deceived her. She
felt so certain of it that she found courage to remain where she was
until another flash came and showed him sleeping with closed eyes.

She drew a breath of relief at that, and rose slowly to her feet. But
she dared not go forward until a third flash had confirmed the second.
Then, while the thunder burst overhead and rolled away, she crept on
until she stood beside the pillow, and, stooping, could hear the
sleeper's breathing.

Alas! the worst remained to be done. The packet, she was sure of it, lay
under his pillow. How was she to find it, how remove it without rousing
him? A touch might awaken him. And yet, if she would not return empty-
handed, if she would not go back to the harrowing thoughts which had
tortured her through the long hours of the day, it must be done, and done
now.

She knew this, yet she hung irresolute a while, blenching before the
manual act, listening to the persistent rush and downpour of the rain.
Then a second time she drew courage from the storm. How timely had it
broken. How signally had it aided her! How slight had been her chance
without it! And so at last, resolutely but with a deft touch, she slid
her fingers between the pillow and the bed, slightly pressing down the
latter with her other hand. For an instant she fancied that the
sleeper's breathing stopped, and her heart gave a great bound. But the
breathing went on the next instant--if it had stopped--and dreading the
return of the lightning, shrinking from being revealed so near him, and
in that act--for which the darkness seemed more fitting--she groped
farther, and touched something. Then, as her fingers closed upon it and
grasped it, and his breath rose hot to her burning cheek, she knew that
the real danger lay in the withdrawal.