A deep sigh broke from her lips.

She leaned against one of the columns of the bed, and gazed, through the apertures in her mask, upon the harrowing spectacle before her.

A hoarse harsh groan passed like a death-rattle through the comte's clenched teeth.

The masked lady seized his left hand, which scorched like burning coals.

But at the very moment she placed her icy hand upon it, the action of the cold was such that De Guiche opened his eyes, and by a look in which revived intelligence was dawning, seemed as though struggling back again into existence.