Her glance beamed on them with a superb light; sign of fear, thought of terror, there were none on her; she stood unmoved, the centre of that tossing ocean of colour, of steel, of floating dominoes, of levelled pistols, and glanced at Viana with a glance that thrilled him like flame and made him drunk like wine.
"Right! If they must take us, let us be dead first!"
As touchwood to the flash of fire, their blood and their wills answered her bidding; with a single sweep of his arm Viana felled down the commander who faced him, in a stroke that cleft; straight through bone and brain; it was the signal of a life-and-death resistance. With a yell of fury, the soldiers closed in; a single voice from one unseen rose clear above the din.
"Reserve your fire, cut those carrion down like straw, and capture her alive!"
The voice was the voice of supreme command; officers and troops alike obeyed it; it was the mellow clarion tone of Giulio Villaflor, if the Priest of Peace could be the chief of such an errand. With bayonets fixed, in ranks three deep, pressing steadily through the courts and chambers, the soldiers of Francis came on to the band of the
