And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother. “This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. Anyhow, it were me as got you down to the wetnurse. His back was no sooner turned, than she slipped this casket into the box.
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