The women said:
“Look not on us with thy cold eyes; thou art a man and not a devil; we do not fear thee. Cruel beast, more coward than a cat devouring small birds in the nest, thou didst kill poor little girls asking to live their pretty little lives in all honesty.”
“Let him pay by slow fire, by red-hot pincers,” cried Toria.
And in spite of the sergeants of the commune, the mothers egged on the lads to throw stones at the fishmonger. And the boys did so eagerly, hooting him every time he looked at them and crying incessantly: “Blood-zuyger, blood-sucker! Sla dood, kill, kill!”
And Toria cried without ceasing:
“Let him pay by slow fire; by red-hot pincers let him pay!”
And the populace growled.
“See,” said the women among each other, “how cold he is under the sun that shines in the sky, warming his white hairs and his face torn by Toria.”
“And he shivers with pain.”
“’Tis the justice of God.”