Directly the road was out of sight, Anna struck back again to the left, across the moss and lichen, towards the place where she knew there was a path that led to Lohm. She walked very straight and very quickly. She did not miss her way, but found the path and hastened her steps to a run. What were they doing to Axel? She was going to his house, alone. People would talk. Who cared? And when she had heard all that could be told her there, she was going to Axel himself. People would talk. Who cared? The laughable indifference of slander, when big issues of life and death were at stake! All the tongues of all the world should not frighten her away from Axel. Her eyes had a new look in them. For the first time she was wide awake, was facing life as it is without dreams, facing its absolute cruelty and pitilessness. This was life, these were the realities--suffering, injustice, and shame; not to be avoided apparently by the most honourable and innocent of men; but at least to be fought with all the weapons in one's power, with unflinching courage to the end, whatever that end might be. That was what one needed most, of all the gifts of the gods--not happiness--oh, foolish, childish dream! how could there be happiness so long as men were wicked?--but courage. That blind look on Axel's face--no, she would not think of that; it tore her heart. She stumbled a little as she ran--no, she would not think of that. Out in the open, between the forest and Lohm, she met Manske. "I was coming to you," he said. "I am going to him," said Anna. "Oh, my dear young lady!" cried Manske; and two big tears rolled down his face. "Don't cry," she said, "it does not help him." "How can I not do so after seeing what I have this day seen?" She hurried on. "Come," she said, "we must not waste time. He needs help. I am going to his house to see what I can do. Where did they take him?" "They took him to prison." "Where?" "Stralsund." "Will he be there long?" "Till after the trial." "And that will be?" "God knows." "I am going to him. Come with me. We will take his horses." "Oh, dear Miss, dear Miss," cried Manske, wringing his hands, "they will not let us see him--you they will not let in under any circumstances, and me only across mountains of obstacles. The official who conducted the arrest, when I prayed for permission to visit my dear patron, was brutality itself. 'Why should you visit him?' he asked, sneering. 'The prison chaplain will do all that is needful for his soul.' 'Let it be, Manske,' said my dear patron, but still I prayed. 'I cannot give you permission,' said the man at last, weary of my importunity, 'it rests with my chief. You must go to him.'" "Who is the chief?" "I know not. I know nothing. My head is in a whirl." "He must be somewhere in Stralsund. We will find him, if we have to ask from door to door. And I'll get permission for myself."