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It was this phase of cruelty which seemed to throw a blood-red light over his whole character and led men to look on him as the very incarnation of the world-power in its most demoniac aspect, as worse than the Antiochus Epiphanes of Daniel's Apocalypse, as the Man of Sin whom in language figurative indeed, yet awfully true the Lord should slay with the breath of his mouth and destroy with the brightness of his coming, for Nero endeavored to fix the odious crime of having destroyed the capital of the world upon the most innocent and faithful of his subjects upon the only subjects who offered heartfelt prayers on his behalf the Roman Christians.
When the physician examined her, he found a blood-red scar on her bosom, which, no doubt, came from a knife stab. On the night of the third day after the rescue, Fanfaro sat at Anselmo's bedside. Bobichel had disappeared since forty-eight hours to make inquiries about Spero.
But on the mountain summits, blood-red in the glow of the sunset, in the boundless sky and on the sea, in all this superb landscape that I had come here to admire I saw only two poor children, one lying prone on the edge of a hole filled with black water, the other submerged to his neck, their hands intertwined, weeping opposite each other, in despair.
Oh, yes, I may buy a picture of Emma, but I must first see the Oni. I follow the guardian Out of the temple, down the mossy steps, and across the village highway into a little Japanese cottage, where I take my seat upon the floor. The guardian disappears behind a screen, and presently returns dragging with him the Oni the image of a demon, naked, blood-red, indescribably ugly.
'What is to become of me! he thought. Then he went away, and came at last to a strange village, where he kept sheep for a long time. He often went round the castle while he was there, but never too close. At last he dreamt one night that he had found a blood-red flower, which had in its centre a beautiful large pearl.
Yes, of a martyr! for a blood-red halo already encircled that beauteous head. This young man was Gabriel, the priest attached to the foreign mission, the adopted son of Dagobert's wife. He was a priest and martyr for, in our days, there are still martyrs, as in the time when the Caesars flung the early Christians to the lions and tigers of the circus.
Godwin knew him well, for the face was the face carven on the tomb in Stangate church, and he wore the blood-red cross upon his mail, and the D'Arcy Death's-head was on his shield, and in his hand shone a naked sword. "Is this the soul of my son?" he asked of the whiterobed watchers. "If so, how died he?" Then the angel at his foot answered: "He died, red sword aloft, fighting a good fight."
For a moment the sky was blood-red; then he recovered himself and answered lightly: “It seems to me, my dear, that you take things with a high hand. It may be that you forget yourself.” “I take them from where I am,” she cried. “As for forgetfulness, remember that my grandfather was satrap of Syria, my father after him, while yours——” “Yes, yes, I dare say. He is not in power now; I am.”
Also she has a pretty blood-red heart, but it is made of stone a ruby, I think and so is rather hard and unfeeling. I think the next Glass Cat the Magician makes will have neither brains nor heart, for then it will not object to catching mice and may prove of some use to us." "What did old Mombi the Witch do with the Powder of Life your husband gave her?" asked the boy.
We have partnerships of interest and convenience, friendships of interest and convenience, dealings of interest and convenience, marriages of interest and convenience, every day. She bit her blood-red lip; but without wavering in the dark, stern watch she kept upon him.
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