Truly scorpions proceeded out of the mouth of this mild Christian priest, who knew how to reveal and lash secret sins of the imagination, which till this hour Boleslav never suspected had existed in his. But now he saw it all. Everything was clear. Now he knew what it was had sent his blood tearing impetuously through his veins in the long night vigils, and had made him hold his breath, and listen to hear whether that other breath did not come faster or slower, showing that she, too, was sleepless and on guard. It was sinful desire for her body--the body that had been dishonoured and abused, yet in spite of all remained so triumphantly beautiful. Thank God! ah, thank God! that the sin was still confined to his inner consciousness. There was yet time to lock it behind bolts and bars to prevent its stealing forth over the fatal threshold. So far he could claim the right to be his own judge, to stand before the private judgment-seat of his own conscience. He looked round him, and his face was distraught and ghastly pale. He saw triumph flame up again in the eyes that watched him. "What right have you to impute this crime to me?" he said to the pastor. "I did not impute it--I merely asked you," the old man interposed quickly. "You have become too pale, _Herr Baron_, for us not to observe your discomfiture." "Condemned out of his own mouth, unhappy man," murmured Herr Merckel, senior, with a sigh. The Schrandeners, in the renewed hope of being allowed to spring at his throat, set up a fearful howl, and pressed forward once more. Then above all the din there was distinctly heard from the yard a shriek of anguish that caused Boleslav's marrow to freeze in his bones. There could be no mistake now. That _was_ Regina! "Regina!" he cried, and rushed to the window that opened on the yard. There the mad chase was in full cry. A crew of furious dishevelled women were dashing over hedges, ditches, waggons, barrels, and frozen dunghills, followed by boys armed with clubs. The air was thick with flying stones. "Help! help!" shrieked Regina's voice. But she herself was not visible. But as he wrenched open the back door she flew like a wounded bird into the dark corridor, followed closely by her would-be assassins whooping and panting. He pulled her with a powerful movement of his arm into the room, and shut the door on the furies in pursuit. She sank on the floor at his feet and pressed her face against the hem of his coat. Her hands relaxed their cramped grasp on two splintered pieces of wood--all that was left of her tub, the shield with which she had been in the habit of warding off assaults. Her hair was loose, her dress torn, the pretty fur-trimming that she had been so proud of, hanging about her in tatters.