Some of the women hissed, and a score of the mill-hands fought their way to the platform. Surrounding Everett, they closed in upon him. One, more daring than the rest, sought to seize him. Everett felled the colonist with a quick blow. The others endeavored to detain him, but none was a match for the athlete with muscles of steel. Knocking down two or three of the most aggressive of his assailants, Everett went to Walda, who trembled with fear for his safety. He drew her close to him. The quavering voice of Wilhelm Kellar sounded in their ears.
“Offend not the eyes of Zanah by parading your unseemly love,” he said, raising his cane as if he would strike the man of the world. The effort was too much for his feeble strength. He almost fell, and Walda knelt before him to support him with her outstretched arms. His indignation changed to grief, and, looking down at the daughter upon whom he had built all his ambition, he gave way to bitter lamentation.
“Oh, Lord, how have I deserved this punishment?” he cried.
Walda sobbed, still holding his frail body close to her. “Forgive me, father,” said she, looking up through her tears.
“Nay, ask not my forgiveness,” he answered, sternly. “Seek the forgiveness of the Lord, whom thou hast offended. Repent now, when it is not yet too late.”
“There is no repentance in my heart,” she said, rising to her feet. “This love must ever seem to me a holy thing.”
“Come away with me now, for I would talk to thee alone. Let us flee from the presence of this man and the people of Zanah,” pleaded Wilhelm Kellar.
“Yea, we will go away together,” Walda answered. She drew his arm through hers, and gently led him to the end of the platform. They slowly descended the steps and walked to the middle aisle, which offered them a chance of egress. As they passed the women, Mother Kaufmann hissed Walda, and taunts and jeers from the crowd assailed her. Wilhelm Kellar stopped. Raising himself on his cane, he said, with a tremendous effort:
“Wag not your tongues, ye women of Zanah. Ye have no right to heap insult upon her whom an hour ago ye were proud to hail as the prophetess.”
“Lo, this prophetess is but a Jezebel!” sneered Mother Kaufmann; and the women near her repeated the name “Jezebel! Jezebel!”