t on it.

Mr. Tiralla sat as quiet as a lamb and let the servant smear his
scratches with it, but he never said a word, in spite of Marianna's
inquiries. Fallen amongst thorns, fallen amongst thorns, yes, that he
had! He continued to nod in a stupid kind of way. Then he groaned and
moaned like a man who has been heavily wounded, and laid his head on
the table. It was all up, all up. And he had believed, when she was so
kind to him the night before, kinder than she had been [Pg 217] for a
long time--oh, what a fool he had been, what an idiot! He began to cry
in a resigned kind of way. He could not think any more; besides, he did
not want to think about it any more--what was the good? He could not
alter what was coming.

He sent for gin. Ah, that made him feel easier, that did him good. He
sat banging the table with his fist, and now and then he would give a
hiccoughing sob, "So-phia--So-phia!" He had always loved her so.

[Pg 218]

CHAPTER X

If Mrs. Tiralla believed that she would have reason to fear her husband
now, she was mistaken. There was no necessity for her to steal away so
that he should not see her, for he kept out of her way as well as
everybody else's. They were all so fond of her, they hung on her words;
she was a witch, and if he were to tell what he knew about her, who
knows, perhaps she might do something worse to him? He was terrified of
her in secret. When he heard her steps he would cower involuntarily; he
preferred her not to come where he happened to be. He scarcely ate
anything at meal time; even if he had been hungry he would not have
ventured to partake of anything. The drink he took nourished him; he
grew stouter and stouter, and his eyes were embedded in fat. He would
only eat what the maid brought him, but he ordered her not to say
anything to her mistress about it. "Very good, very good," she would
answer, with a nod, but when she spoke to others about her master, she
would point to her forehead and say in a sad voice, "Poor master! I
think he drinks too much."

Everybody said that Mr. Tiralla had become a drunkard. True, he hardly
ever came to the inn now when the gentry were there, but he would drink
in secret either at home or at the inn at a different time to the
others. He avoided his former companions; they had not seen him for
weeks.

[Pg 219]

Loud were the exclamations, therefore, when they caught him early one
afternoon sitting all a