Yesterday, in a lucid moment, her dying father had given her his fondest
blessing, little knowing what hung over her; to-day he had not come to
himself, and had neither noticed nor returned her parting kiss. Quite
unconscious, he had been moved from the prison out of doors and to the
house of Rufinus. Dame Joanna would not forego the privilege of giving
him a resting-place and taking care of him till the end.

Orion's last note was placed in Paula's hands just before she set out;
it informed her that his task was now successfully ended. He had been
told that it was to-morrow, and not to-day, that the hideous act would be
accomplished; and it was a consolation to her to know that he was spared
the agony of following her in fancy in her fearful progress.

She had allowed the women who came to clothe her in bridal array to
perform their task; among them was Emau, the chief warder's wife, and her
overflowing compassion had done Paula good. But even in the prison-yard
she had felt it unendurable to exhibit herself decked in her bridal
wreaths to the gaping multitude; she had torn them from her and thrown
them on the ground.

How long--how interminably long--had the road to the river appeared; but
she had never raised her eyes to look at the curious crowd, never ceased
lifting up her heart in prayer; and when her proud blood boiled, or
despair had almost taken possession of her, she had grasped the bishop's
hand and he had never wearied of encouraging her and exhorting her to
cling to love and faith, and not even yet abandon all hope.

Thus they at last reached the pontoon at whose further end life would
begin for her in another world. The shouts of the crowd were as loud,
as triumphant, as expectant as ever; music and singing mingled with the