" "Ay, here I am," said Jack, throwing off his hat and wig, and marching towards the group, amongst whom there was a general movement of surprise at his audacity. ‘This is not love, Marthe. But he knew. " Taking Jack into a shed behind the workshop the smith in a short time freed him from his fetters. The music confused and distracted her, and made her struggle against a feeling of intoxication. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. She wrapped a leg around him.
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