The window, the low truckle-bed, the sleeper, she saw all with dazzling clearness, and before the flash had well passed she was crouching low, with the hood of her cloak dragged about her face.

For the glare had revealed Count Hannibal; but not asleep! He lay on his side, his face towards her; lay with open eyes, staring at her.
Or had the light tricked her?
The light must have tricked her, for in the interval between the flash and the thunder, while she crouched quaking, he did not move or call.

The light must have deceived her.

She felt so certain of it that she found courage to remain where she was until another flash came and showed him sleeping with closed eyes.
She drew a breath of relief at that, and rose slowly to her feet.

But she dared not go forward until a third flash had confirmed the second.
Then, while the thunder burst overhead and rolled away, she crept on until she stood beside the pillow, and, stooping, could hear the sleeper's breathing.
Alas! the worst remained to be done.