"Don't scourge me," she cried, trying to hide herself in the farthest corner of the cell. "The lash cuts to the bone. I can't bear it. Spare me, and I'll be quiet—quiet—quiet!"
"Mother!" said Jack, advancing towards her.
"Off!" she cried with a prolonged and piercing shriek. And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures.
"I shall kill her if I stay longer," muttered her son, completely terrified.
While he was considering what would be best to do, the poor maniac, over whose bewildered brain another change had come, raised her head from under the straw, and peeping round the room, asked in a low voice, "If they were gone?"
"Who?" inquired Jack.
"The nurses," she answered.
"Do they treat you ill?" asked her son.
"Hush!" she said, putting her lean fingers to her lips. "Hush!—come hither, and I'll tell you."
Jack approached her.