There was a suppressed cry of joy amongst the Druids--their gods had sent this sacrifice--this Roman, their enemy, who had dared to enter the sacred forest. “Take thou the sacred sword and slay him.” He who spoke was Oroveso; she who heard--she who stretched forth her hand for the weapon--was Norma. And as she took the sword, the Druids saw the Roman start and turn pale, and they said amongst themselves that he was afraid. Slowly she came down from the altar, the shining weapon in her hand. Slowly she came near him--not a pitying look upon her face. Slowly she lifted the sword against him, as he raised his arm to receive the blow. And then--then she was weak; and she, the high priestess, let fall the point of the sacred weapon from before the enemy and the victim. In a mighty voice they called forth--“Slay him!” But she said she must question him, and bade them retire for a little space. Slowly and angrily they departed, and left her standing alone with him in the Temple. “So at last thou art in my power. There is no hope for thee.” “I do not fear thee.” “Now swear--swear that from this hour thou wilt think no more of Adalgisa, and I will give thee life, and thou shalt go from before mine eyes.” “I will not swear.” “Dost thou know that my rage is terrible?” “I fear not thy rage.” “And thy children?” As she spoke he trembled, and with a cry of joy she cried out that he feared her at last. “Spare them--spare them. Let me die alone.” “Thee alone?--all the Romans who are in Gaul shall die, and even Adalgisa shall perish in the flames.” “Pity!--pity!” “What? Canst thou ask pity of Norma? Ah! she knows no more what pity is. See how I sate myself--how I glory in thy fear for her, and for yourself! Thou shalt suffer, as I have suffered.” Then she struck the sacred shield once more, and again the priests and the armed men came swarming to the Temple. “Behold” she cried, “I have found another victim to your rage. A priestess forsworn; who hath forsworn her vows; who hath betrayed her country; who hath angered the god of her people!” With one vast shout they asked for her name. “Build the pile,” she said. Again they cried out for the name of the accursed. Then over her heart swept a flood of pity for the maiden she was about to denounce. “What right had she, a guilty wretch, to revenge herself upon an innocent creature? Had not Adalgisa pitied her? had she done her any wrong? Could the poor girl save herself from loving the traitor? Had not she herself, she, Norma, fallen?” As she hesitated, the crowd about her again demanded the offender’s name.