torture. "Since you confess yourself guilty, go further, and tell us—what have you done with the bona-roba you stole from her prison?"
The word struck like the stroke of lightning.
Life, sense, shame, grief, rage, rushed over his hearer with a torrentes force; the foam gathered on his lips; he strained for a moment like a fettered lion at his bonds;—then he was still as with the stillness of death.
"Speak—where is she?"
He made no answer.
"Have you no tongue? We will make you find it, and use it. Tell me—quick!—where is this woman hidden?"
His vengeance was in his hands; one word, one gesture only, to where the sea-cave lay, and his wrongs would be avenged, without the lifting of his hand.
"Speak out," hissed the soldier, whose rage was rising. "Where is this empress-democrat? Where does she hide? She knew how to use that buffalo strength of yours; but she will fool you, once she be free. We know what Miladi is! Give her to us; and you may save yourself a necklace of hemp, mayhap?"
There was still no answer.
