"Hadst thou not had enough of blood and crime, thou human monster,
that thou wouldst stain thy already blackened soul with, another
midnight murder?" demanded Stanley, as he sternly confronted his
baffled foe. "Don Luis Garcia, as men have termed thee, what claim
have I on thy pursuing and unchanging hate? With what dost thou charge
me? What wrong?"
"Wrong!" hoarsely and fiercely repeated Don Louis. "The wrong of
baffled hate; of success, when I planned thy downfall; of escape,
when I had sworn thy death! Did the drivelling idiots, who haunted,
persecuted, excommunicated me from these realms, as some loathed
reptile, dream that I would draw back from my sworn vengeance for such
as they? Poor, miserable fools, whom the first scent of danger would
turn aside from the pursuit of hate! I staked my life on thine, and
the stake is lost; but what care I? My hate shall follow thee; wither
thy bones with its curse; poison every joy; blight every hope; rankle
in thy life blood! Bid thee seek health, and bite the dust for anguish
because it flies thee! And for me. Ha, ha! Men may think to judge
me--torture, triumph, slay! Well, let them." And with a movement so
sudden and so desperate, that to avert it was impossible, he burst
from the grasp of his guards; and with one spring, stood firm and
triumphant on the farthest edge of the battlement.
Pages:
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377