keep to it--I will go back to my old den and drag out life the richer
by a disappointment--or die, as my ruling goddess shall please."

With this he left the room, and little Mary raised her clenched right
fist and shook it after him, exclaiming: "Then let him go, hard-hearted,
unjust, old scarecrow! Oh, if only I were a man!" And she burst out
crying aloud. Heedless of the widow's reproof, she went on quite beside
herself: "Oh, there is no one more wicked than he is, Dame Joanna! He
wants to see her die, he wishes her to be dead; I know it, he even wishes
it! Did you hear him, Pul, he would be glad if the messenger's horse
went lame before he could save her? And now she is my Orion's betrothed
--I always meant them for each other--and they want to kill him, too, but
they shall not, if there is still a God of justice in heaven! Oh if I--
if I. . ." Her voice failed her, choked with sobs. When she had
somewhat recovered she implored Pulcheria and her mother to take her to
see Paula, and as they shared her wish they prepared to start for the
prison before it should grow dark.

The nearer they went to the market-place, which they must cross, the more
crowded were the streets. Every one was going the same way; the throng
almost carried the women with it; yet, from the market came, as it were,
a contrary torrent of shouts and shrieks from a myriad of human throats.
Dame Joanna was terrified in the press by the uproarious doings in the
market, and she would gladly have turned back with the girls, or have
made her way through by-streets, but the tide bore her on, and it would
have been easier to swim against a swollen mountain stream than to return
home. Thus they soon reached the square, but there they were brought to
a standstill in the crush.

The widow's terrors now increased. It was dreadful to be kept fast with