and tried to
lift it over her head.

"Ah! no, mawsteh, you cyan' do dat! It's ag'in' de law! I's 'bleeged to
have my trial, yit. Oh, no, no! Oh, good God, no! Even if I is a nigga!
You cyan' jis' murdeh me hyeh in de woods! _Mo dis la zize_! I tell de
judge on you! You ain' got no mo' biznis to do me so 'an if I was a
white 'oman! You dassent tek a white 'oman out'n de Pa'sh Pris'n an' do
'er so! Oh, sweet mawsteh, fo' de love o' God! Oh, Mawse Challie, _pou'
l'amou' du bon Dieu n'fe pas ca_! Oh, Mawse 'Polyte, is you gwan to let
'em kill ole Clemence? Oh, fo' de mussy o' Jesus Christ, Mawse 'Polyte,
leas' of all, _you_! You dassent help to kill me, Mawse 'Polyte! You
knows why! Oh God, Mawse 'Polyte, you knows why! Leas' of all you, Mawse
'Polyte! Oh, God 'a' mussy on my wicked ole soul! I aint fitt'n to die!
Oh, gen'lemen, I kyan' look God in de face! _Oh, Miches, ayez pitie de
moin! Oh, God A'mighty ha' mussy on my soul_! Oh, gen'lemen, dough yo'
kinfolks kyvvah up yo' tricks now, dey'll dwap f'um undeh you some day!
_Sole leve la, li couche la_! Yo' tu'n will come! Oh, God A'mighty! de
God o' de po' nigga wench! Look down, oh God, look down an' stop dis yeh
foolishness! Oh, God, fo' de love o' Jesus! _Oh, Miches, y'en a ein
zizement_! Oh, yes, deh's a judgmen' day! Den it wont be a bit o' use to
you to be white! Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, fo', fo', fo', de, de, _love 0'
God! Oh_!"

They drew her up.

Raoul was not far off. He heard the woman's last cry, and came threshing
through the bushes on foot. He saw Sylvestre, unconscious of any
approach, spring forward, jerk away the hands that had drawn the thong
over the branch, let the strangling woman down and loosen the noose. Her
eyes, starting out with horror, turned to him; she fell on her knees and
clasped her hands. The tears were rolling down Sylvestre's face.

"My friends, we must not do this! You _shall_ not do it!"

He hurled away, with twice his natural strength, one who put out a hand.

"No, sirs!" cried Raoul, "you shall not do it! I come from Honore! Touch
her who dares!"

He drew a weapon.

"Monsieur Innerarity," said 'Polyte, "_who is_ Monsieur Honore
Grandissime? There are two of the name, you know,--partners--brothers.
Which of--but it makes no difference; before either of them sees this
assassin she is going to be a lump of nothing!"

The next word astonished every one. It was Charlie Mandarin who spoke.

"Let her go!"

"Let her go!" said J