o out there unseen?

"Oh, what is the pain in my fingers to the torment my heart endures?"
thought she. "I must venture it, and help will not be denied me!"

With a trembling heart, as though the deed she purposed doing had been
evil, she crept into the garden in the moonlight night, and went through
the lanes and through the deserted streets to the churchyard. There, on
one of the broadest tombstones she saw sitting a circle of lamias. These
hideous wretches took off their ragged garments, as if they were going
to bathe; then with their skinny fingers they clawed open the fresh
graves, and with fiendish greed they snatched up the corpses and ate the
flesh. Eliza was obliged to pass close by them and they fastened their
evil glances upon her; but she prayed silently, and collected the
burning nettles, and carried them into the castle.

Only one person had seen her, and that was the archbishop. He was awake
while others slept. Now he felt sure his opinion was correct, that all
was not as it should be with the Queen; she was a witch.

In secret he told the King what he had seen and what he feared; and when
the hard words came from his tongue, the pictures of saints in the
cathedral shook their heads, as though they could have said: "It is
not so! Eliza is innocent!" But the archbishop interpreted this
differently--he thought they were bearing witness against her, and
shaking their heads at her sinfulness. Then two heavy tears rolled down
the King's cheeks; he went home with doubt in his heart, and at night
pretended to be asleep; but no real sleep came upon his eyes, for he
noticed that Eliza got up. Every night she did this, and each time he
followed her silently, and saw how she disappeared from her chamber.

From day to day his face became darker. Eliza saw it, but did not
understand the reason; but it frightened her--and what did she not
suffer in her heart for her brothers? Her hot tears flowed upon the
royal velvet and purple; they lay there like sparkling diamonds, and all
who saw the splendor wished they were Queens. In the meantime she had
almost finished her work. Only one shirt of mail was still to be
completed, but she had no flax left, and not a single nettle. Once more,
for the last time, therefore, she must go to the churchyard, only to
pluck a few handfuls. She thought with terror of this solitary wandering
and of the horrible lamias, but her will was firm as her trust in
Providence.

Eliza went on,