'If you care for the hangman's daughter, then hasten and save her from that drunken wretch. No woman resists him!'

God! how the wild words of that woman horrified me! I did not doubt the girl's words, but in my anxiety for the poor child I asked: 'How can I save her?'

'Run and warn her, monk,' the wench replied: 'she will listen to you.'

'But they will find her sooner than I.'

'They are drunk and will not go fast. Besides, I know a path leading to the hangman's hut by a shorter route.'

'Then show me and be quick!' I cried.

She glided away, motioning me to follow. We were soon in the woods, where it was so dark I could hardly see the woman's figure; but she moved as fast and her step was as sure as in the light of day. Above us we could see the torches of the boys, which showed that they had taken the longer path along the mountain-side. I heard their wild shouts, and trembled for the child. We had walked for some time in silence, having left the youths far behind, when the young woman began speaking to herself. At first I did not understand, but soon my ears caught every passionate word:

'He shall not have her! To the devil with the hangman's whelp! Every one despises her and spits at the sight of her. It is just like him—he does not care for what people think or say. Because they hate he loves. Besides, she has a pretty face. I'll make it pretty for her! I'll mark it with blood! But if she were the daughter of the devil himself he would not rest until he had her. He shall not!'

She lifted her arms and laughed wildly—I shuddered to hear her! I thought of the dark powers that live in the human breast, though I know as little of them, thank God, as a child.