"Now you shall die!" he cried; "I will kill you,--not as a man frees himself of a loyal enemy, but as he would crush a scorpion." And with one fearful blow, he nailed him to the wall by the throat. Fatkoura had not fallen. She stood leaning against the wall, her hand pressed to her wound. The blood gushed between her fingers. The Prince of Nagato left his enemy writhing in awful agony, and ran to her; he saw the blood flowing in rivers. "What is it?" he cried. "I am dying," said Fatkoura. She sank to the ground. The Prince knelt beside her, and supported her on his knees. "Is there no one here?" he cried. "Let some one bring a doctor." "I implore you," said Fatkoura, "do not call; nothing can heal my wound. It was to prevent a stain upon your name that I struck home; I cannot be saved. Let no one enter; let me die by your side, as I could not live there." "Unfortunate girl! and I have brought you to this!" cried the Prince. "You die for me after a life of suffering,--you, so fair, so young, and so formed for happiness? Ah! why was I placed upon your path?" "I was happy for a time," said Fatkoura, "very happy; for you seemed to love me. But I have dearly paid for those days of joy. What did I do to you, cruel one, that you should desert me as you did?" "You guessed the reason, sweet Princess. An all-powerful, invincible love turned me from you; my will refused to obey my reason any longer." "Yes! how can we struggle against love? I know the power it gains, I, who vainly strove to hate you. Yes! you have felt those sharp pangs, that aimless expectation, those fevered dreams, those hopes that would not die; you have known those sobs which would not be stifled, those tears that burned like drops of fire. A prey to hopeless love, you suffered as I did. Is it not frightful, and can you not pity me?" "I would give my life to repair the harm I have done you." "There is no rest by night or day, is there? It seems as if you were at the foot of a precipice lined with steep rocks, which you fain would climb, yet fall back again and again. But I am mad," added Fatkoura; "your suffering was nothing as compared to mine, for you were loved." The Prince started. "Yes, she loved you; I know it," resumed Fatkoura, with a faint sigh. "Do you think that the jealous eye of the woman you scorned could fail to read her face I--how its pride died away when she looked at you; how her voice, against her will, would soften when she spoke to you; what happy tremors when you came, what sadness when you went! I watched and noted all; each discovery was like a sword thrust into my heart; rage, hate, and love devoured my soul. No, you never suffered as I did." "Do not overwhelm me, Fatkoura!" said the Prince. "I did not deserve such love; see how I have rewarded it! You are dying for my sake, and I cannot save you. The horrible grief that rends me at this moment avenges you for much of the suffering that I have caused you."