"Oh! you did, did you?" said the janizary. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. This, then, was the woman from whom Hoddy would not have accepted a cup of water. She examined Michelle’s pale face. ‘Silence,’ he warned again, with a prod of the dagger at her heart.
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