“Amina!” they all cried, as with one voice. And they looked towards Elvino, who formed one of the deputation. They made room for him, falling away on each side. He ran up to the bed side, and there she still lay asleep, breathing peacefully. He uttered a loud cry, and with a start she awoke. As she saw the crowd about her, she shrunk back with alarm, and covered her eyes, thinking possibly ’twas some terrible dream. Then, as they all stood silent about her, she again looked. Too terrified now to shut out the sight, she remained for a moment or two gazing before her. Suddenly she spoke. “Where am I? Where am I?” Bounding from the bed, she looked from right to left, still dimly seeing the faces, and again cried, “Where am I? Where am I?” “Ask thine own unhappy self!” said a voice she knew, and turned towards it. “Ah, Elvino!” and she put out her arms to him. But he flung her from him to the ground, and there she knelt gazing at him with her arms clasped upon her breast, wondering what her fault was. Not yet comprehending either her position or his words, she looked to the nearest woman; but she turned her back upon the girl, as did the next to whom the poor girl moved her eyes. Then, panic-struck, she ran round the room from one to the other, still not knowing what her fault was. They all drew back from her as though she were a plague; so she moved quite naturally to Elvino again--her husband as she thought him. But he showed the greatest repugnance to her. Then, as she felt herself deserted, they told her her crime. Vainly she declared her innocence; vainly she wept, flinging herself upon her knees; vainly she spoke of her past life; vainly she said she could not tell how she came there; vainly she turned to Liza, whose heart was stone, who turned from her with the rest; vainly she clung to her Elvino’s very feet: he shook her from him and strode towards the door. As he was leaving the haunted room, Amina’s adopted mother came past the threshhold, and though they all told her what they believed of the village queen, this mother, the only one amongst all these simple, honest village folk, went up to her daughter, and put her arms about her neck. So at last the iciness of despair gave way before this one touch of sympathy, and the poor girl with her mother’s arms about her, wept bitterly, and so gave relief to her young heart. CHAPTER III. The village generally condemned her; especially Liza. Not a single voice was heard in her favor but her mother’s. Ah, yes, there was one voice in her favor--honest Alesso’s, the good-tempered fool’s. He would not believe in Amina’s guilt, which determination of his thoroughly stamped him a fool in the eyes of all. Her guilt was so palpable; doubt her guilt! you might as well doubt the light of the sun.