As they bound them rudely hand and foot, the long and beautiful hair
of Maud Lindesay escaped from its fastenings and fell down till it
reached the bath of red porphyry which extended underneath the whole
length of the altar of iron.
Then through all the Temple of Evil there ensued sudden silence. Not a
sob or a moan escaped from the doomed maidens, and the feet of the
assistants fell silent and soft as the paws of wild beasts upon the
ebon floor.
Gilles de Retz waited till his acolytes had retired to their appointed
places, where they stood like carven statues watching what should
happen. Then slowly and deliberately he ascended to the broad platform
from which the iron altar rose, and stood with his arms folded over
his flame-coloured robe, looking gloatingly down, upon his innocent
victims. Maud Lindesay was the nearer to him, and her unbound hair
fell back and touched the peak of his pointed shoe of crimson Cordovan
leather.
With a quick movement he caught up a handful of its rich luxuriance
and allowed it to run through his fingers like sand again and yet
again, with apparent delight in the sensation.
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