The more you beat them, the better they be._"

But the jubilant note was gone, and, though the tune was the same, the
voices were harsh, and there was a dreadful mockery of woe in the stave
that made me shudder.

My lady heard it too.

"No, no, Ralph. You do me wrong. I plucked them myself. Who is there now
to send me posies? And I am sick--you know it. The last time----" The
hurrying voice faltered and stumbled piteously over a sob. "The last
time I was near spent, Ralph. So near. And now----You do not know your
strength. Indeed----Oh, Ralph, Ralph, what have I done that you should
use me so?"

The bitter cry sank into a dull moan, and, setting a frail white arm
across her eyes, she bowed her head upon it, as do weeping children, and
fell to sobbing with that subdued despair that spells a broken spirit.

My lord's withers were unwrung.

For a moment he stood still, leering like some foul thing that feasts on
Anguish. Then he let fall the nosegay and took the whip in his right
hand....

And I stood there frozen and paralysed and dumb.

Posing his victim with a horrible precision, the monster raised his
whip, but it struck a pendant lantern, and with an oath he turned to the
gallery, where he should find room and to spare for his brutality. At