"Thy prisoner, Catiline," she again repeated in the same steady tone as at first; but the charm had now failed of its effect, and it was fortunate for the sweet girl, that the fell wretch before whom she stood defenceless, had so much of the cat-like, tiger-like spirit in his nature, so much that prompted him to tantalize and torment before striking, to teaze and harass and break down the mind, before doing violence to the body of his subject enemies, or of those whom he chose to deem such. Had he suspected at this moment that any chance of succor was at hand, however remote, he lacked neither the will nor the occasion to destroy her. He fancied that she was completely at his mercy; and perceiving that, in despite of her assumed coolness, she writhed beneath the terrors of his tongue, he revelled in the fiendish pleasure of triumphing in words over her spirit, before wreaking his vengeance on her person. "My slave! Julia. My slave, soul and body! my slave, here and for ever! Slave to my passions, and my pleasures! Wilt yield, or resist, fair girl? Resist, I do beseech thee! Let some fire animate those lovely eyes, even if it be the fire of fury—some light kindle those pallid cheeks, even if it be the light of hatred! I am aweary of tame conquests." "Then wherefore conquer; or conquering, wherefore not spare?"—she answered. "I conquer, to slake my thirst of vengeance. I spare not, for the wise man’s word to the fallen, is still, VÆ VICTIS. Wilt yield, or resist, Julia? wilt be the sharer, or the victim of my pleasures? speak, I say, speak!" he shouted savagely, perceiving that she sought to evade a direct answer. "Speak and reply, directly, or I will do to thee forthwith what most thou dreadest! and then wipe out thy shame by agonies of death, to which the tortures of old Regulus were luxury." "If I must choose, the victim!" she replied steadily. "But I believe you will not so disgrace your manhood." "Ha! you believe so, you shall feel soon and know. One question more, wilt thou yield or resist?"— "Resist," she answered, "to the last, and when dishonored, die, and by death, like Lucretia, win back greater honor! Lucretia’s death had witnesses, and her tale found men’s ears." "Thy death shall be silent, thy shame loud. I will proclaim the first my deed, the last thy voluntary——." "Proclaim it!"—she interrupted him, with her eyes flashing bright indignation, and her lip curling with ineffable disdain; as she forgot all prudence in the scorn called forth by his injurious words—"Proclaim it to the world! who will believe it?"— "The world. Frailty’s name is woman!"— "And Falsehood’s—Catiline!"—