She aroused her husband by her screaming
Shrieking woe; she tore her cheeks, exclaiming:
“Evil is the love thou bear’st thy sister,
And thy gifts to her are worst than wasted;
She has stabb’d our infant in the cradle!
Will thine incredulity now doubt me?
Lo! the knife is in thy sister’s girdle.”
Up sprang Paul, like one possess’d by madness:
To the upper floor he hastened wildly;
There his sister on her mats was sleeping,