The workmanship was remarkably fine. It was
an ancient weapon, and just the sort of one an amateur would have prized
very highly.
"Is it the custom here," inquired Miss Nevil, with a smile, "for young
ladies to wear such little instruments as these in their bodices?"
"It is," answered Colomba, with a sigh. "There are so many wicked people
about!"
"And would you really have the courage to strike with it, like this?"
And Miss Nevil, dagger in hand, made a gesture of stabbing from above,
as actors do on the stage.
"Yes," said Colomba, in her soft, musical voice, "if I had to do it to
protect myself or my friends. But you must not hold it like that, you
might wound yourself if the person you were going to stab were to draw
back." Then, sitting up in bed, "See," she added, "you must strike like
this--upward! If you do so, the thrust is sure to kill, they say. Happy
are they who never need such weapons."
She sighed, dropped her head back on the pillow, and closed her eyes. A
more noble, beautiful, virginal head it would be impossible to imagine.
Phidias would have asked no other model for Minerva.
CHAPTER VI
It is in obedience to the precept of Horace that I have begun by
plunging _in media res_.
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