Stretching one huge, bony hand,
as if to close her lips, trembling with rage and pain, livid and
convulsed in every feature of his face, Prince Alexis reversed the
whip in his right hand, and weighed its thick, heavy butt for one
crashing, fatal blow. Life and death were evenly balanced. For an
instant the Princess became deadly pale, and a sickening fear shot
through her heart. She could not understand the effect of her
words: her mind was paralyzed, and what followed came without her
conscious volition.
Not retreating a step, not removing her eyes from the terrible
picture before her, she suddenly opened her lips and sang. Her
voice of exquisite purity, power, and sweetness, filled the old
hall and overflowed it, throbbing in scarcely weakened vibrations
through court-yard and castle. The melody was a prayer--the cry of
a tortured heart for pardon and repose; and she sang it with almost
supernatural expression. Every sound in the castle was hushed: the
serfs outside knelt and uncovered their heads.
The Princess could never afterwards describe, or more than dimly
recall, the exaltation of that moment.
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