"
"I have thought over things."
"And I too."
"We are starving,--you are starving, and I am starving,--and all day
long I tramp these cursed streets, but gain nothing. So it will go on,
day in, day out. Not only we ourselves, but our son too must die. We
must save him."
"Yes," said Xantippe, quietly, repeating her husband's words as she
kissed the forehead of her child, "we must save him."
"There is only one way."
"Only one way," repeated Xantippe, dreamily. There was a pause, and
then, as though the words had grown to have a meaning to her that she
could not fathom, she queried, "What way, Gregorio?"
"That," he said, roughly, as he caught her by the wrist, and, dragging
her to the window, pointed to the women in the street beneath.
Xantippe hid her face on her husband's breast and cried softly, while
she murmured, "No, no; I will never consent."
"Then the child will die," answered the Greek, curtly, flinging her from
him.
And the poor woman cast herself upon the bed beside her boy, and when
her tears ceased for a moment stammered, "When?"
"To-morrow," was the answer, cruel and peremptory.
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