"You shall not have him.

You shall not have him.

Ah, don't you hear?
He is dying--O God, O God!" she cried, with tearless eyes and upturned face--"Ah, let it be soon! Ah, let him die soon!" The men stood abashed before her agony.

Behind the little door where she stood there was a muffled groaning.

She trembled, but her arms were spread out before the door as though on a cross, and her lips kept murmuring: "O God, let him die! Let him die! Oh spare him agony!" Suddenly she stood still and listened-listened, with staring eyes that saw nothing.