She was not young or old--possibly
between twenty-eight or thirty. She was not tall or short; she was
merely of the usual medium height,--so that altogether she was one of
those provoking individuals, who not seldom deceive the eye at first
sight by those ordinary looks which veil an extraordinary personality.
She stood like an automatic figure, rigid and silent,--till Sergius
Thord signed to his three new associates to advance. Then with a
movement, rapid as a flash of lightning, she suddenly drew a dagger
from her scarlet girdle, and held it out to them. Nerved as he was to
meet danger, Pasquin Leroy recoiled slightly, while his two companions
started as if to defend him. As she saw this, the woman raised her
drooping eyelids, and a pair of wonderful eyes shone forth, dark blue
as iris-flowers, while a faint scornful smile lifted the corners of her
mouth. But she said nothing.
"There is no cause to fear!" said Sergius Thord, glancing with a touch
of derision in his looks from one to the other, "Lotys is the witness
of all our vows! Swear now after me upon this drawn dagger which she
holds,--lay your right hands here upon the blade!"
Thus adjured, Pasquin Leroy approached, and placed his right hand upon
the shining steel.
"I swear in the name of God, and in the presence of Lotys, that I will
faithfully work for the Cause of the Revolutionary Committee,--and that
I will adhere to its rules and obey its commands, till all shall be
done that is destined to be done! And may the death I deserve come
suddenly upon me if ever I break my vow!"
Slowly and emphatically Pasquin Leroy repeated this formula after
Sergius Thord, and his two companions did the same, though perhaps less
audibly.
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