While all this had been taking place a woman had been stationed outside the den of iniquity, clinging to the iron railings which ran round the front of the habitation; her eyes were directed towards the windows which shone so brightly.
She watched intently, but could not see the groups of persons in the large room, but she heard the confused sounds as of many voices.
She heard also obscene and blasphemous ribaldry, which were greeted with shouts of horrible laughter.
She clung closer to the railings, and heaved a deep sigh.
A boy’s voice clear and melodious rang from that abode of infamy and crime, and soared like a lark’s carol towards the sky; but although the voice was musical it was sullied by the words which it pronounced.
The woman heard the voice. In her eyes shone a strange and lurid light. She moaned upon the pavement, and tore her grey hairs while the tears poured down her cheeks.
Had any one seen this strange woman their hearts would have been moved to pity, so supremely wretched did she appear.
“He is there with the pestiferous odious crew of wretches,” exclaimed the woman. “He is there—I hear his voice. Ah, why do I love this boy? What secret and unknown power is it that draws me like a loadstone to this accursed spot? I cannot help it. Why do I take an interest in this poor lad? He is naught to me, and I dare not see him again. I am in her power, and she has neither pity or remorse.”
The woman arose, pressed her hands to her temples, and shuddered.
Taking one last lingering glance at the thieves’ haunt she turned, and hastily left the spot.