According to custom, the queen solemnized the marriage without delay; and at nineteen Tiepoletta had a master whose coarse tenderness was sweet, indeed, in comparison with the harsh treatment to which she had been subjected heretofore. But this happiness was destined to be of short duration. Borachio was found dead upon the roadside one morning, his breast pierced by eight dagger thrusts. Envious of his beauty, his authority and his lovely young wife, one of his comrades had assassinated him and made Tiepoletta a widow some time before she was to become a mother. Six months went by, during which they seemed to respect her grief. Then, in a cave near the Pont du Gard, she gave birth to a daughter. The very next evening, while she was lying, half asleep, on some straw on the floor of the cave, with her child beside her, she overheard a conversation that was going on outside. They were talking of her. She listened eagerly. Picture her fear and horror when she heard them scheming to deprive her of her infant and then drive her from their midst, thus ridding the tribe of a useless member and retaining Borachio's child. It was Corcovita, the mother of the poor heart-broken creature, who was the strongest advocate of this shameful outrage. "We shall leave here to-morrow to go to Avignon," said she. "We must obtain possession of the child and then find an opportunity to abandon Tiepoletta on the road." This plan gave general satisfaction, and Corcovita was charged with its execution. Tiepoletta had heard enough. Wild with terror she endeavored to devise some means of escape from this new peril, and during the long watches of the night she finally resolved to flee with her child. The next morning at day-break the little band was on its way. A seat in the carriage was offered to Tiepoletta. She accepted it, knowing she must save all her strength if she would carry her plan into successful execution. After a long march, they paused at nightfall to encamp near Avignon. Tiepoletta, a prey to the most intense anxiety, had detected the interchange of divers signs that convinced her they were only waiting for her to fall asleep to steal her child from her. She watched. At eight o'clock the men had gone to stroll around the suburbs of the city; the old women were dozing; the young people were laughing and teasing one another, and the children were sound asleep. Tiepoletta profited by a moment when no one was observing her to steal from the camp on tip-toe. She proceeded perhaps a hundred paces in this way, then, seized with sudden fright, she began to run, holding her child pressed close to her heart; fancying she heard her mother's voice behind her, she rushed wildly on, never pausing until she sank exhausted on the lonely road.