The child took her at her word, and knelt down on the lowest of the flight of steps.
"Pray, if you have a mind that way."
The child devoutly raised her eyes to Heaven, and holding the lighted candle in front of her in her tiny hands, began to sing this verse of a hymn:
"The Lord my God, I praise and bless,
For He hath heard my soul's distress,
And hath inclined His ear to me
Who love Him through eternity."
To many it seemed, while the child's quavering voice was intoning the sad melody, as if, either from the midst of the crowd, or from some corner close at hand, a man's voice was accompanying the tone in a subdued voice, dwelling upon the final notes, as they do in church.
Who could it be?
None could say whence the accompanying voice proceeded.
A cold shudder ran down Dame Zudár's back. It was the voice of the headsman!
But what a mad idea! Men no longer come forth unhurt from the midst of the fire, as did the three holy children in the days of Nebuchadnezzar.
So she strengthened her heart, marched up to the door, and began thundering upon it with her fists.