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Relieving herself thus from his importunities, she went on with

her occupation; the poor man, as a last resource, went to a

window, and cried, in a piteous tone, to the people who were

passing, "Do your poor curate the favour to bring him a horse or

a mule; is it possible no one will come to help me? Wait for me

at least; wait till I can go with you; abandon me not. Would you

leave me in the power of these dogs? Know you not that they are

Lutherans, and that the murder of a priest will seem to them a

meritorious deed? Would you leave me here to be martyred?"