"Oh, Morise! Would to heaven that monseigneur the count would return me to my family! What a misfortune to me it was that Neroweg should have seen me when he visited Mayence! What a misfortune that the wisp of straw which he threw at my breast when he took me to wife was not a sharp-pointed dagger! I would have at least died amidst my own family."
"What wisp of straw was that, madam?"
"Do you not know that it is the custom with us, that when a Frank weds a free girl, he takes her right hand, and with his left throws a wisp of straw into her bosom?"
"No, madam, I did not know that."
"It is the custom in Germany. Alas, Morise, I repeat it, would that that wisp of straw had been a dagger! I would have died without undergoing my present agony. And now that I know about the murder of Wisigarde, my life will be but one long and cruel agony."
"But, madam, you should have refused to wed the count, seeing he inspired you with such horror."
"I dared not, Morise. Oh, he will surely kill me! Woe is me! He will kill me!"
"Why think you, madam, that he will commit such a crime again? You never as much as whisper a word, whatever he may do or say. He abuses us, the female slaves, seeing he is master, and you never complain; you never set foot outside of the women's apartments, except for a short walk along the fosse of the burg. Why, madam, I ask you, do you apprehend that your husband will kill you?"
"When he is intoxicated he does not reason."
"That is true—there is always that danger."