You love your
husband and Black Mask relies on his strength now that fair words have
failed. The coward has poisoned your faithful guardian like the wretched
thief, the miserable house-breaker, that he is.'--Mariora's hut was
lighted by the flame that flickered on the hearth. A bedstead of
linden-wood covered with goat-skins, a table of slate and a few
three-legged chairs were all the furniture. There was also a nicely
carved and painted little cradle in which lay the little child,
sleeping, with his plump little hands drawn up behind his head, like an
angel. In the extreme corner of the room the faithful beast lay all of a
heap on a lair of soft moss,--at the last gasp. He groaned and shivered
continually like one in a fever, and raised his failing eyes with such
an eloquent appeal to his mistress, as if he would have spoken to her.
Sometimes he pricked his ears as if he were listening and snuffed
joyously. Perchance he expected his master, perhaps he wanted to lick
his hands for the last time. Poor beast, how I pitied him! 'He will
die,' I whispered to Mariora. I durst not say it aloud for I imagined
the beast understood everything which men say to one another. 'And then
will come the tempter, who knows that you are alone and defenceless.' I
told her everything which your ladyship told me, and the woman trembled
like an aspen-leaf.
"'Where is Juon Tare encamping now?' I asked Mariora.
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