is no God!"

At that same instant her head leaped so suddenly into the air that her
body remained standing upright, three long jets of blood at the same
time shooting up from between her vacant shoulders. Her two hands still
fumbled about in the air as if they would have drawn back the uttered
blasphemy and defended her against this terrible judgment, and then the
whole figure collapsed in the direction of the fallen head, which lay
with its face turned heavenwards, and its mouth gaping open, as if
longing to speak, whilst the tongue still moved, perchance, asking mercy
or pardon from Heaven. Too late, too late! There was no longer any power
of utterance there. Once or twice there was a twitching of the eyelids
over the stiffening staring eyes, till at last they closed painfully in
the dream of death.

And above the condemned sinner towered the form of the avenger of
sin--the headsman.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE VOICE OF THE LORD.

During the blasphemous speech of the frantic virago nobody had observed
that Peter Zudar had reached the courtyard of the castle. In the
darkness and prevailing confusion he had been able to creep up to the
wretched woman unobserved.

He had heard to the end her furious outburst, her horrible menace. He
had seen the convulsions of the stony-hearted squire in the midst of his
fetters, he had seen the tender child collapse beneath the touch of the
horrible virago, and he had fulfilled his mission.

The people, who in that awful moment had seen his bright sword flash
forth like Heaven's lightning, who had seen the monstrously mutilated
body of the woman totter in their midst, and spurt blood on all the
bystanders, who had seen the awe-inspiring figure of the headsman close
to them all, him whom they had fancied dead and buried, him whom their
own eyes had seen burnt to ashes--all these people stood for a moment as
if turned to stone, as if their souls had left their bodies.

This brief interval of petrified astonishment was sufficient for Peter
Zudar to snatch up the sorrowing child with one hand, while with the
other he whirled his bloody sword above his head, and opened a way for
himself to the gate.

Then, when the rioters saw him escaping, they came to themselves again.

"After him!" cried Hanak, catching hold of his scythe.

"After him!" roared the Leather-bell, grasping a torch, and bounding on
in front, and so skilfully did he scatter the sparks in the eyes of the
pursuers