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The old woman was as always bareheaded. Her thin, light hair,

streaked with grey, thickly smeared with grease, was plaited in a

rat's tail and fastened by a broken horn comb which stood out on

the nape of her neck. As she was so short, the blow fell on the

very top of her skull. She cried out, but very faintly, and

suddenly sank all of a heap on the floor, raising her hands to

her head. In one hand she still held "the pledge." Then he dealt

her another and another blow with the blunt side and on the same

spot. The blood gushed as from an overturned glass, the body fell

back. He stepped back, let it fall, and at once bent over her

face; she was dead. Her eyes seemed to be starting out of their

sockets, the brow and the whole face were drawn and contorted

convulsively.