"I await death."
"You shall not be disappointed."
Pretty Michal crossed her arms over her breast, and turning her martyr-like face to heaven, looked up as if transfigured, while Valentine supported her with his stalwart arm.
A solemn pause ensued, and then the silence was broken by the heartrending cry of Dame Sarah:
"I appeal!"
"To whom?" inquired the cruelly cold voice of the superrector.
"To the Prince."
"He lies in a Polish dungeon."
"To the Kaiser, then."
"He died last week."