I expected she would show signs of great distress and shame; but to my surprise she neither wept nor blushed: composed, though grave, she stood, the central mark of all eyes.

"How can she bear it so quietly--so firmly ?" I asked of myself.

"Were I in her place, it seems to me I should wish the earth to open and swallow me up.

She looks as if she were thinking of something beyond her punishment--beyond her situation: of something not round her nor before her.

I have heard of day-dreams--is she in a day-dream now?
Her eyes are fixed on the floor, but I am sure they do not see it--her sight seems turned in, gone down into her heart: she is looking at what she can remember, I believe; not at what is really present.