‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones. . And what did she do? Not only did she cut his hand in her rage, but she refused to let him help her, and then she ran away from him. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. ‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor.
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