nce, I--no, I do not swear, but when I have said a thing I
keep to it--I will go back to my old den and drag out life the richer by
a disappointment--or die, as my ruling goddess shall please."

With this he left the room, and little Mary raised her clenched right
fist and shook it after him, exclaiming: "Then let him go, hard-hearted,
unjust, old scarecrow! Oh, if only I were a man!" And she burst out
crying aloud. Heedless of the widow's reproof, she went on quite beside
herself: "Oh, there is no one more wicked than he is, Dame Joanna!
He wants to see her die, he wishes her to be dead; I know it, he even
wishes it! Did you hear him, Pul, he would be glad if the messenger's
horse went lame before he could save her? And now she is my Orion's
betrothed--I always meant them for each other--and they want to kill
him, too, but they shall not, if there is still a God of justice in
heaven! Oh if I--if I..." Her voice failed her, choked with sobs. When
she had somewhat recovered she implored Pulcheria and her mother to take
her to see Paula, and as they shared her wish they prepared to start for
the prison before it should grow dark.

The nearer they went to the market-place, which they must cross, the
more crowded were the streets. Every one was going the same way; the
throng almost carried the women with it; yet, from the market came, as
it were, a contrary torrent of shouts and shrieks from a myriad of human
throats. Dame Joanna was terrified in the press by the uproarious doings
in the market, and she would gladly have turned back with the girls, or
have made her way through by-streets, but the tide bore her on, and it
would have been easier to swim against a swollen mountain stream than
to return home. Thus they soon reached the square, but there they were
brought to a standstill in the crush.

The widow's terrors now increased. It was dreadful to be kept fast with
the young people in such a mob. Pulcheria clung closely to her, and
when she bid Mary take her hand the child, who thoroughly enjoyed the
adventure, exclaimed: "Only look, Mother Joanna, there is our Rustem. He
is taller than any one."

"If only he were by our side!" sighed the widow. At this the little girl
snatched away her hand, made her way with the nimbleness of a squirrel
through the mass of men, and soon had reached the Masdakite. Rustem had
not yet quitted Memphis, for the first caravan, which he and his little
wife were to join, was not to start fo