Soon after that the door was thrown open and several officials entered. They made a careful note of the unusual division of the prisoners into the two groups, and at once ordered the removal of those with whom we had had the trouble. While this was going on I went up to the chief official and told him my name and asked for food for myself and those remaining. I was famished and parched with thirst. I had not had even a crust of bread for twenty-four hours and only the sip of brandy which Inez had given me. His reply was an oath and an order to hold my tongue. I pointed to the women and asked for food for them, and the brute raised his hand and struck me across the mouth. Mad with rage at this, I sprang on him and pulled him down, dashing his head against the stone flags. In a moment half a dozen of his men rushed up and dragged me off, kicking and mauling me with the utmost violence, and then put my wrists in irons. Their leader rose livid with rage. “You shall have the lash for this, you traitorous dog,” he hissed between his teeth. “Fling him in the corner there,” he ordered. “The lash shall tear the flesh from your back for this. Yes, the lash and plenty of it. That shall be your breakfast. Yes, the lash, the lash;” and he repeated this several times, each time with a fierce and bitter oath, as if gloating in the prospective treat of seeing my flesh cut to ribbons. I was flung into the corner, as he had ordered--the loathsome spot, reeking with all the filthy abominations of the vile crew who had passed the night in it--and the other prisoners were forbidden to come near me under penalty of sharing my punishment. But the door had scarcely closed on them before little Pia came straight across, with gentle reproaches for my futile violence and words of sympathy for my trouble. I tried to send her away, fearing the warders would return and find she had disobeyed their order; but she would not go. The skin of my face was broken slightly where one of the men had kicked me--only a graze, for the force of the kick was spent before his foot touched me; and she insisted upon wiping the few drops of blood away. Her touch was that of a hand skilled in healing; and as she did what she could to cleanse the little wound, her eyes were full of tears and her face a living mask of pity and sympathy. [Illustration: “In a moment half a dozen of his men rushed up and dragged me off.”] “Go, go before they return and find you here,” I urged her. “Is it not you who saved us all from the worst terrors of this awful night? Shall I desert you now you have brought this trouble on yourself?” “Go, please go. You can do me no good and only harm yourself,” I begged her; but she would not go, and was still with me when the men came back to lead me out.