"Do they treat you ill?" asked her son. He has escaped. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. “Your mother was a Gypsy. “To your room!” Michelle cowered, her face flushed with anger. But when she learns that you are a fugitive from justice…. The necessity of defending herself and assuming a confident and secure tone did much to dispell the sense of being exposed and indefensible in a huge dingy world that abounded in sinister possibilities. "I don't understand you, gentlemen," stammered he, at length. "Come Bess,—no whimpering.
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