“The hymns of our innocent children, or our young, clad in snow-white garments, her ears have sucked in--and the beating of the holy drum likewise ... who knows whether the devil, the foul fiend, has not transformed himself into this image of the Jewess, of this cursed Rabbi’s daughter? Who knows whether thus, he has not touched and polluted a holy treasure of ours? “What was the fiend up to, in this fair disguise? We need not equivocate. Undoubtedly, she is fair; a devilish beauty is hers--Do but look at the wicked sparkle of her eyes, and the modest and humble pose of her silken eyelashes.... “See you her alabaster face? It has indeed grown paler since her imprisonment, but duller not a whit!... Look at her fingers. How thin and long and how transparent they seem in the sunlight!... “What could the fiend have wanted but to dissuade a soul from its Holy faith, and that he has done indeed: “What a beautiful maiden!” exclaimed one of our own Knighthood--a member of one of our best families.... “It was more than patience could endure. The crowd noticed her and lay hands upon her--The fiend did not even stir for defense--How could she? There were all pure of sin. They had been absolved. He had no power over them. “Let this then be the sentence of the devil--of the fiend disguised in this form of a Jewish maiden: “Bind her hair, her fiendishly long hair, to the tail of this savage horse.... “Let the horse fly over the streets and drag her like a ‘corpse’ across the very streets she has polluted in defiance of our sacred laws. “May her blood besprinkle them and wash those that her feet have besmirched!” Savage cries of joy fill the market-place and when the great din is over the convicted woman is asked her last wish. She answers calmly: “I have one wish. Give me but a few pins.” “Her grief has made her mad!” think the men of the court. “Not so,” she answers serenely and frigidly: “This is my last wish; my last desire.” They gratified her in that. “Now, bind her!” commands the President of the Court. The hands of the servants tremble as they bind her long dark braids to the tail of the horse, which is so wild that he can hardly be controlled.... “Make room!” the command is heard. There is a wild rush forward. The crowd huddles close to the walls of the buildings. All raise their hands. All are ready to goad the horse along. Some have whips, some have cords, others wiretips. Their breath is stifled for the moment; their faces are aflame, their eyes sparkle and in all this hubbub no one notices how the convicted maiden bends down and pins her skirts at the seam and pushes the pins deep into her body, so that it may be covered absolutely when she is dragged about in the streets. Only the exiled soul notices it all....