ith blood, and blood was splashed upon her
clothing and her face.

She stood breathing hard, and gazing about her; no one made a sound. "I
haf done my best," she began suddenly. "I can do noffing more--dere is
no use to try."

Again there was silence.

"It ain't my fault," she said. "You had ought to haf had a doctor, und
not vaited so long--it vas too late already ven I come." Once more there
was deathlike stillness. Marija was clutching Jurgis with all the power
of her one well arm.

Then suddenly Madame Haupt turned to Aniele. "You haf not got something
to drink, hey?" she queried. "Some brandy?"

Aniele shook her head.

"Herr Gott!" exclaimed Madame Haupt. "Such people! Perhaps you vill give
me someting to eat den--I haf had noffing since yesterday morning, und
I haf vorked myself near to death here. If I could haf known it vas
like dis, I vould never haf come for such money as you gif me." At this
moment she chanced to look round, and saw Jurgis: She shook her finger
at him. "You understand me," she said, "you pays me dot money yust de
same! It is not my fault dat you send for me so late I can't help your
vife. It is not my fault if der baby comes mit one arm first, so dot I
can't save it. I haf tried all night, und in dot place vere it is not
fit for dogs to be born, und mit notting to eat only vot I brings in
mine own pockets."

Here Madame Haupt paused for a moment to get her breath; and Marija,
seeing the beads of sweat on Jurgis's forehead, and feeling the
quivering of his frame, broke out in a low voice: "How is Ona?"

"How is she?" echoed Madame Haupt. "How do you tink she can be ven
you leave her to kill herself so? I told dem dot ven they send for de
priest. She is young, und she might haf got over it, und been vell und
strong, if she had been treated right. She fight hard, dot girl--she is
not yet quite dead."

And Jurgis gave a frantic scream. "Dead!"

"She vill die, of course," said the other angrily. "Der baby is dead
now."

The garret was lighted by a candle stuck upon a board; it had almost
burned itself out, and was sputtering and smoking as Jurgis rushed up
the ladder. He could make out dimly in one corner a pallet of rags and
old blankets, spread upon the floor; at the foot of it was a crucifix,
and near it a priest muttering a prayer. In a far corner crouched
Elzbieta, moaning and wailing. Upon the pallet lay Ona.

She was covered with a blanket, but he could see her shoulders and