"The single candle was still flickering in the draught, and showed
only the white cloth. The rest of the room was draped in shadows. I
picked up the candle, and, lifting it high above my head, moved
around the corner of the table. Either my nerves were on such a
stretch that no shock could strain them further, or my mind was
inoculated to horrors, for I did not cry out at what I saw nor
retreat from it. Immediately at my feet was the body of a beautiful
woman, lying at full length upon the floor, her arms flung out on
either side of her, and her white face and shoulders gleaming, dully,
in the unsteady light of the candle. Around her throat was a great
chain of diamonds, and the light played upon these and made them
flash and blaze in tiny flames. But the woman who wore them was dead,
and I was so certain as to how she had died that, without an
instant's hesitation, I dropped on my knees beside her and placed my
hands above her heart. My fingers again touched the thin slit of a
wound. I had no doubt in my mind but that this was the Russian
princess, and when I lowered the candle to her face I was assured
that this was so. Her features showed the finest lines of both the
Slav and the Jewess; the eyes were black, the hair blue-black and
wonderfully heavy, and her skin, even in death, was rich in color.
Pages:
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275