The letter accidentally dropped from his hand as he was in the act of affixing his seal of the paschal lamb. He let it lie, while with closed eyes he leaned back in his chair, picturing his triumph of the morrow. In fancy he could see the princess led off, a pale, silent, drooping captive under an escort of Russian soldiers, and the Duke of Bora enthroned in the cathedral amid the shouting of the Czar's legions. "Barbara Lilieska," he said aloud, and with his eyes still closed, "you shall regret your insolence in putting an affront upon me in the sight of Czernova." "Don't be too sure of that," said an ironical voice. The one man in Czernova whom the cardinal least desired to see on this particular night was Zabern; and yet it was Zabern who had spoken! With a sudden start Ravenna opened his eyes to find the marshal standing with folded arms upon the other side of the table. Behind him was his orderly, Nikita. A third man, a trooper named Gabor, was in the act of locking the door of the apartment. Alive to his peril, the cardinal struck repeatedly at a bell upon the table. "Of no use," remarked Zabern, with an ice-cold smile. "There is no one in the house but your steward, who is keeping watch at the foot of the staircase. He has lately become a spy in my service. He has just dismissed your household, bidding them go forth to view the city decorations. They will not return for an hour at least--ample time for our work." "What do you want of me?" "Your life." Ravenna could not suppose that Zabern had come for anything else; nevertheless, the cool, frank avowal sent the blood to his heart with a rush. "You would murder me?" he gasped. "Call it murder if you will. Execution is my term." "What is my trespass?" "'Stolen waters are sweet.' Strange text for holy cardinal to address to youthful princess. You comprehend? Do you ask, then, why you should die?" So all was known to these men. What mercy could he expect? He glanced from one to the other, but saw no pity in their stern, set faces. The trio had come to do a bloody work, and would do it. He strove to keep a cool head; he tried to reason with his would-be assassins. "You will have to answer for what you do." "To the saints above--yes; and I am ready. At the bar of God I'll rest my title to heaven on the holy deed I do to-night. To a human tribunal--no, for none shall know that you have been killed by others. Behold!" Zabern, as he spoke, drew forth a small cut-glass phial, half-full of a liquid resembling distilled water. The silver cap bore the inscription, "The Manna of Saint Nicholas."