Page:The cry for justice - an anthology of the literature of social protest. - (IA cryforjusticea00sinc).pdf/330

 She bowed her head: "Yes, crime, if that shall need," the maiden said. Now paused the Voice before it asked anew: "But knowest thou that all thou holdest true Thy soul may yet deny in bitter pain, So thou shalt deem thy sacrifice in vain?" "E'en this I know," she said, "and yet again I pray thee, let me enter."

"Enter then!" That hollow Voice replied. She passed the door. A sable curtain fell—and nothing more. "A fool!" snarled some one, gnashing. Like a prayer "A saint!" the whispered answer thrilled the air.

In a Russian Prison

(From "Memoirs of a Revolutionist")

(See page 308)

One day in the summer of 1875, in the cell that was next to mine I distinctly heard the light steps of heeled boots, and a few minutes later I caught fragments of a conversation. A feminine voice spoke from the cell, and a deep bass voice—evidently that of the sentry—grunted something in reply. Then I recognized the sound of the colonel's spurs, his rapid steps, his swearing at the sentry, and the click of the key in the lock. He said something, and a feminine voice loudly replied: "We did not talk. I only asked him to call the non