the mountains, and when Musa was allowed to see her once, the sight of a familiar face did her some little good. It did not occur to her to ask how, or by whom, the shepherd's wife had been summoned; her thoughts were too absorbed, her mind was too much distraught.
Yet she had no fear of any sentence they might pass on her.
'I did no harm' was all that ever she said.
Her old pride, her old courage, her old antagonism to the tyranny of law, gave her strength to hold it at arm's length still.
Her father's spirit awoke in her.
They might capture, they should not subdue her, they should not humiliate her.
There were other days in the stifling, thronged audience-chamber; other long discourses, now from this speaker, now from that; other terrible weary hours filled with the buzz of tongues, the stench of the crowd, the wordy vapourings of petty pompous people. She was brought in and set in their midst, and she understood nothing of it; no more than the trapped hawk understands why he is caught in the cruel wires.
