The manager twisted his moustache. He could not make good his hold. "Ha!" he exclaimed, with a sudden start, as his glance fell upon the portrait; "how came this into your possession, boy?" "Why don't you answer, sirrah?" cried Wild, in a savage tone, and striking him with the silver staff. She took the initiative and guided his fingers inside her and bore down. He glanced up at Roding and met his eyes. Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands. . Clotilde’s stunning green eyes were reflected in the gazes of the tender young children, but their faces had been hollow and sunken, their hair matted, and their clothing in bad need of repair.
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