, might have to kill Basilio; her
trepidation on the score of her aim and the reliability of the
pistol--all these things and others were wearing her out; and at last
she, too, began to wonder how long she could bear the strain, and
whether or not her husband would arrive in time to save her.

Meanwhile, Velasco, racked to the marrow by the pains which tortured
him, and driven by a desire to drop the dagger and plead for his life
and by fear of parting with his weapon, was urged to despair, and
finally to desperation. All the supplication that his face and eyes
could show pleaded eloquently for him, and with this silent pleading
came evidence of his physical agony. The muscles of his arms and legs
twitched and trembled, and his labored breathing hissed as it split
upon the edge of the knife. He was unable longer to control the muscles
of his lips; the keen edge of his weapon found a way into the flesh at
either side of his mouth, and two small streams of blood trickled down
his chin and fell upon his breast. Not for a moment did he take his
gaze from her eyes; and thus these two regarded each other in a silence
and a stillness that were terrible. A crisis had to come. Here was a
test of nerve that inevitably would make a victim of one or the other.
The spectacle of the man's agony, the pitiful sight of his imploring
look, were more than the feminine flesh of which Violante was composed
could bear.

The crash came--Basilio was the first to break down. Whether
voluntarily or not, he released his hold upon the knife, which went
clattering through the vine-branches to the ground. In another instant
his tongue, now free, began pouring forth a supplication in the Spanish
language with an eloquence which Violante had never heard equalled.

"Oh, senora!" he said, "who but an angel could show a mercy tenderer
than human? And yet, as I hope for the mercy of the Holy Virgin, there
are a sweetness and a kindness in your face that belong to an angel of
mercy. Oh, Mother of God! surely thy unworthy son has been brought into
this strait for the trying of his soul, and for its chastisement and
purification at the hands of thy sweetest and gentlest of daughters;
for thou hast put it into her heart--which is as pure as her face is
beautiful--to spare me from a most horrible end. Thou hast whispered
into her mother-soul that one of thy sons, however base and
undeserving, should not be sent unshriven to the judgment-seat of the
most Hol