But there was no motion in them now.

Miriam watched the heap of mortality while she could count a hundred, which she took pains to do.
No stir; not a finger moved! "You have killed him, Donatello! He is quite dead!" said she.

"Stone dead! Would I were so, too!" "Did you not mean that he should die ?" sternly asked Donatello, still in the glow of that intelligence which passion had developed in him.

"There was short time to weigh the matter; but he had his trial in that breath or two while I held him over the cliff, and his sentence in that one glance, when your eyes responded to mine! Say that I have slain him against your will,--say that he died without your whole consent,--and, in another breath, you shall see me lying beside him." "O, never!" cried Miriam.

"My one, own friend! Never, never, never!" She turned to him,--the guilty, bloodstained, lonely woman,--she turned to her fellow criminal, the youth, so lately innocent, whom she had drawn into her doom.