“There is no cause to fear!” said Sergius Thord, glancing with a touch of derision in his looks from one to the other, “Lotys is the witness of all our vows! Swear now after me upon this drawn dagger which she holds,--lay your right hands here upon the blade!” Thus adjured, Pasquin Leroy approached, and placed his right hand upon the shining steel. “I swear in the name of God, and in the presence of Lotys, that I will faithfully work for the Cause of the Revolutionary Committee,--and that I will adhere to its rules and obey its commands, till all shall be done that is destined to be done! And may the death I deserve come suddenly upon me if ever I break my vow!” Slowly and emphatically Pasquin Leroy repeated this formula after Sergius Thord, and his two companions did the same, though perhaps less audibly. This ceremony performed, the woman called Lotys looked at them steadfastly, and the smile that played on her lips changed from scorn to sweetness. The dark blue iris-coloured eyes deepened in lustre, and flashed brilliantly from under their drowsy lids,--a rosy flush tinted the clear paleness of her skin, and like a statue warming to life she became suddenly beautiful. “You have sworn bravely!” she said, in a low thrilling voice. “Now sign and seal!” As she spoke she lifted her bare left arm, and pricked it with the point of the dagger. A round, full drop of blood like a great ruby welled up on the white skin. All the men had risen from their places, and were gathered about her;--this ‘taking of the oath’ was evidently the dramatic event of their existence as a community. “The pen, Sergius!” she said. Thord approached with a white unused quill, and a vellum scroll on which the names of all the members of the Society were written in ominous red. He handed these writing implements to Leroy. “Dip your pen here,” said Lotys, pointing to the crimson drop on her arm, and eyeing him still with the same half-sweet, half-doubting smile--“But when the quill is full, beware that you write no treachery!” For one second Leroy appeared to hesitate. He was singularly unnerved by the glances of those dark blue eyes, which like searchlights seemed to penetrate into every nook and cranny of his soul. But his recklessness and love of adventure having led him so far, it was now too late to retract or to reconsider the risks he might possibly be running. He therefore took the quill and dipped it into the crimson drop that welled from that soft white flesh. “This is the strangest ink I have ever used!” he said lightly,--“but--at your command, Madame----!” “At my command,” rejoined Lotys, “your use of it shall make your oath indelible!” He smiled, and wrote his name boldly ‘Pasquin Leroy’ and held out the pen for his companions to follow his example. “Ach Gott!” exclaimed Max Graub, as he dipped the pen anew into the vital fluid from a woman’s veins--“I write my name, Madame, in words of life, thanks to your condescension!”