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By good fortune she had a veil on her bonnet, or she could hardly

have gone along the streets without being stopped. By good

fortune, too, she was naturally so peculiar in appearance as not

to show disfigurement like any other woman. She needed both

advantages, for the marks of gripping fingers were deep in her

face, and her hair was torn, and her dress (hastily composed with

unsteady hands) was clutched and dragged a hundred ways.

In crossing the bridge, she dropped the door key in the river.

Arriving at the cathedral some few minutes before her escort, and

waiting there, she thought, what if the key were already taken in

a net, what if it were identified, what if the door were opened

and the remains discovered, what if she were stopped at the gate,

sent to prison, and charged with murder! In the midst of these

fluttering thoughts, the escort appeared, took her in, and took

her away.

"Is there any noise in the streets?" she asked him.