the Red Tailor's house, Crescence was chopping wood
at the pile. The hatchet dropped from her hand, and for a moment she
stood paralyzed: the next instant she rushed upon Florian with open
arms and fell upon his neck. The _gens d'armes_ disengaged her gently.
"I'll go with you through the village," said Crescence, without
weeping. "You sha'n't bear your shame alone. Does the iron hurt you?
Don't fret too much, for my sake."

[Illustration: She walked by his side.]

Florian, unable to speak, motioned to her with his left hand to turn
back; but she walked by his side, as if riveted to him by an invisible
chain. The news spread through the village like wildfire. Caspar and
Babbett were standing before the Eagle: the former had a mug of beer in
his hand, and brought it to Florian to drink. The _gens d'armes_ would
not permit it. Florian begged them not to let Crescence go any farther,
and Babbett at last persuaded her to remain. All were weeping.

He went alone through the rest of the familiar streets.

George the blacksmith, prevented by the cold from sitting in front of
his door, saw him from behind his window and touched his cap from sheer
embarrassment. At the manor-house farmer's he met the French simpleton,
who pointed to his upper lip, saying, "_Mus a loni ringo._" In spite of
himself, a painful smile passed over Florian's features.

When at last he had left the last hut behind him, he vowed never to
return to his old home again.

His incarceration was now more severe than it had been: though in the
same tower as formerly, he was kept in the most secure apartment. He
often looked through the grating; but when a Nordstetter passed he
started back as if he had been shot.

As the anguish of his mind became more subdued, he tried many devices
to pass away the time. He walked about with a blade of straw standing
on his forehead: when this became easy, he added others, until at last
he could build a whole house and take it to pieces again. With much
exertion, he learned to stand out horizontally from the iron bars, and
even acquired the art of placing his knees behind his head.

One day, in looking through the grating, he saw Crescence coming
to town. Hot tears fell on the iron bars: he could not speak to
her,--scarcely give her a sign.

At night he heard a cough beneath the window, which was repeated
several times. Recognising Crescence, he returned the signal. Crescence
unwound the red ribbon which had adorned