actually talked themselves into a fury,
until their own words and violence excited them to fresh acts of rage
and vengeance against their unhappy victim.

The menacing throng, gesticulating, and loudly threatening, advanced
closer and closer towards Fleur-de-Marie, while the widow appeared to
have lost all command over herself. Separated from the deep pond only by
the parapet on which she was leaning, the Goualeuse shuddered at the
idea of their throwing her into the water; and, extending towards them
her supplicating hands, she exclaimed:

"Good, kind people! what do you want with me? For pity's sake do not
harm me!"

And as the milk-woman, with fierce and angry gestures, kept coming
nearer and nearer, holding her clenched fist almost in the face of
Fleur-de-Marie, the poor girl, drawing herself back in terror, said, in
beseeching tones:

"Pray, pray, do not press so closely on me, or you will cause me to fall
into the water."

These words suggested a cruel idea to the rough spectators. Intending
merely one of those practical jokes which, however diverting to the
projectors, are fraught with serious harm and suffering to the
unfortunate object of them, one of the most violent of the number called
out, "Let's give her a plunge in! Duck her! duck her!"

"Yes, yes!" chimed several voices, accompanied with brutal laughter, and
noisy clapping of hands, with other tokens of unanimous approval. "Throw
her in!--in with her!"

"A good dip will do her good! Water won't kill her!"

"That will teach her not to show her face among honest people again!"

"To be sure. Toss her in!--fling her over!"

"Fortunately, the ice was broken this morning!"

"And when she has had her bath she may go and tell her street companions
how the folks at Arnouville farm serve such vile girls as she is!"

As these unfeeling speeches reached her ear, as she heard their
barbarous jokes, and observed the exasperated looks of the brutally
excited individuals who approached her to carry their threat into
execution, Fleur-de-Marie gave herself over for lost. But to her first
horror of a violent death succeeded a sort of gloomy satisfaction. The
future wore so threatening and hopeless an aspect for her that she
thanked heaven for shortening her trial. Not another complaining word
escaped her; but gently falling on her knees, and piously folding her
hands upon her breast, she closed her eyes, and meekly resigned herself
to her fate.

The labour