"
For a few minutes after he had gone, Arithelli stood motionless, still
with her hands pressed tightly over her eyes, trying to command her
brain to work clearly. Her will and her limbs seemed paralysed. She
could only wait for Vardri's approach. Once she prayed an inarticulate
wordless prayer, that inspiration might be sent her to find a way out
of this _impasse_ in which there seemed neither light nor opening.
Time was passing, and every moment was bringing her nearer the most
appalling destiny that could ever be meted out to any woman. If she
did Sobrenski's bidding she would be not only a murderess, but the
murderess of the being she loved most in the world. Vardri, who was so
different from all the other men; Vardri, who could never bear anything
to be hurt, or even to be made uncomfortable. She knew that it was
perfectly useless for both of them to attempt to escape. Someone was
most likely posted at the window of the loft, they would get no
distance on foot without being overtaken, and if she attempted to lead
out any of the horses or mules, the noise would probably attract
attention.
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