Yet all her life ached in her as if it were snapped asunder like the lute; she was like the bird who sees rough hands tear down and scatter on the winds the nest that it cost him such anxious care to build, and that he guarded so jealously whilst he sang his love song underneath the leaves. Like the bird she had offended none, making her home as silently and meekly as he did where the wild bay grew and the woodspurge crept with the moss. She had asked nothing of the world more than the bird does; yet they could not let her be.
She heard the blows of the mallet on the marble cease, and all was still. She wondered dully what they were doing now; dully, for pain had numbed her, and the worst that could have come to her seemed already done.
The men, within, held council.
Some were jocose and jested broadly: she was a handsome creature, they said; the old steward was blind to such charms, the chills of age and avarice made him insensible to such a plea; he was angry that the gold was gone, he only longed to punish her, to see her hurt.
She had sold all the jewellery, of that he
