Finally, I caught a glimpse of Naladi's red robe scarcely ten feet away, and behind her the countenance of De Noyan, still contemptuously smiling at that shrieking rabble.

God! my face burned, my grasp tightened on the club.

Yet I lay motionless, knowing well the time of sacrifice was not yet.
The woman stood at the edge of the rock platform, gazing intently down, a silent, motionless statue, her red robe sweeping to her feet, and below her the crimson drapery; the flaring torches in the hands of her barbaric followers cast their light full upon her.

I stared at the strange creature, comprehending something of the power of passion such as she could exercise over De Noyan, causing him to forget all honor in her presence.

Saint Andrew! she was a witch, a hell-cat, whose smile was death.