God knows, they treated me ill when they were alive, but death has them at last." The Count's eyes grew suddenly cold and hard, so that Vjera shuddered as she caught the look of hatred in them.
"Death, death, death!" he cried.

"Death the judge, the gaoler, the executioner! He has done justice on them for me, and they will not break loose from the house he has made for them to lie in and to sleep in for ever.

And now, friend Death, I am master in their stead, and you must give me time to enjoy the mastership before you serve me likewise.

Oh Vjera, the joy, the delight, the ecstasy, the glory of it all!" He struck the palms of his lean hands together with the gesture of a boy, and laughed aloud in the sheer overflowing of his heart.

But Vjera sat still, silent and thoughtful, beside him, watching him rather anxiously as though she feared lest the excess of his happiness might do him an injury.
"You do not say anything, Vjera.