‘Why do you do that service to one whom you did not know?’
‘I always do so.’
‘How—!’
‘Always when any one is hanged here I come and frighten away the birds and make them find other food. See—there is another vulture!’
She uttered a wild, high scream, threw her arms above her head, and ran across the meadow so that I thought her mad. The big bird flew away, and the maiden came quietly back to me, and, pressing her sunburnt hands upon her breast, sighed deeply, as from fatigue. With as much mildness as I could put into my voice, I asked her:
‘What is your name?’
‘Benedicta.’
‘And who are your parents?’
‘My mother is dead.’
‘But your father—where is he?’