CRUEL AS THE GRAVE!
Lucien Apleon's eyes held the cold, cruel malignity of a snake. His
brows were cold, straight, unruffled. His smile held the polished
brutality of the most Mephistophelian Mephistopheles.
Judith Apleon knelt at his feet, her beautiful face working painfully.
A smile as cruel as his mouth crept into his eyes as he noted her
grovelling, as he watched the anguish in her face.
She shuddered as she saw that smile creep into his eyes. She had seen
it before--more than once. The first time had been among the glorious
mountains of her beautiful Hungarian home. An old peasant woman, with
the reputation of a witch, had scowled upon him, and had uttered a
curse on him. The spot where the three had met was in a lonely pass.
At the utterance of the curse he had cut the poor old hag down, with
one fierce slash of his heavy riding whip. She had howled for mercy,
and for reply he flogged the poor frail old prostrate form until life
had fled, then, with a lifting spurn of his foot, he had hurled the
body over the edge of that mountain pass, into the unknown depths of
the ravine beyond. And all the time his eyes had smiled, as they
smiled now--and Judith shuddered, for the smile was as cruel as the
grave, and was a reflection of Hell.
She knew the diabolical cruelty which lay hidden behind that smile, and
remembering the fate of those upon whom he had bent that smile, she
sickened with a shuddering fear of her own life.
They had quarreled, that is to say she had _tried_ to thwart him in a
trifling thing. She hardly, herself, realized _what_ he was, or the
power he possessed.
"Lucien," and her voice shook with the agony which filled her, with the
fear that had her in its shuddering grip. "Lucien, don't look like
that at me."
With an affrighted scream she cried: "Don't! Don't! Lucien! No one
on whom I ever saw you look, as you look now, ever lived an hour,
and----."
His gaze of diabolical hate hypnotized her. She wanted to take her
eyes from his, but could not.
He made her no audible reply. He only smiled on. A faint cry, like
the low scream of a terrified coney, escaped her. Her face paled until
it was like the grey-white of a corpse.
"Spare me, Lucien, spare me----."
She would have said more, but the chill of his hellish smile froze the
words upon her lips.
He never once changed his attitude. His left elbow rested on the
corner of the mantel, the fingers of his right hand played with the
gold watch-guard he wore.
A full minute elapsed, then with a cry of passionate, painful entreaty,
she lifted her beautiful clasped hands, and wringing them in agony,
cried:
"Lucien--Lucien--." Then a sob choked her.
For another long minute there was a tomb-like silence. He never moved
a muscle of his face. The chill of the smile in his eyes deepened, and
seemed, as it was bent upon her, to numb her faculties.
Her whole frame seemed to wilt under the ice of his smile. She
shivered with the concentrated hate his eyes expressed.
Lower and lower she crouched at his feet. And as he saw her wilt and
shiver the smile of Hell deepened in his cruel eyes.
Suddenly he spoke. The words were uttered in dulcet tones. But their
meaning had, to her, the sentence of death, as softly, calmly, there
fell from his lips:
"I have no further need of you! You are in my way!"
For one instant her eyes remained fixed upon his face. Then slowly her
limbs relaxed, her body swayed lightly forward, and sank rather than
fell upon the thick pile of the carpet.
With a low, mocking laugh Lucien Apleon turned away from the dead form.
But before he passed out of the room he did a curious thing. A Bible
rested on one of the shelves of the room, he took the volume from its
place, opened it at the 13th of Revelation and taking a pen, he dipped
it into the red ink, and ran a red line around the 15th verse of the
chapter.
A moment later he had passed from the room.
The verse he had red-scored, read: "He had power to give life unto the
_image_ of the Beast, that the image of the Beast should both speak,
and cause that as many as would not worship the image of the beast
should be killed."
No wonder that Lucien Apleon smiled. For if presently, he was going to
cause the _image_ of the Beast to cause death to those who defied him,
how much more could he himself strike dead by the power of the Satanic
energy given to him.
Judith Apleon's body was conveyed to the crematorium and consumed. A
doctor had certified heart-disease; there was no inquest. Lucien did
not attend the funeral. The whole affair was carried through by the
undertaker. There were no mourners.
The Anti-christ spirit is marked by "Without natural affection," one
could not therefore expect Anti-christ himself to possess _any_
affection.