"You are from the outer world?" she asked in English. "God grant
that you may speak and understand this tongue."
"English?" the girl exclaimed, "Yes, of course, I speak English."
"Thank God!" cried the little old woman. "I did not know whether I
myself might speak it so that another could understand. For sixty
years I have spoken only their accursed gibberish. For sixty years
I have not heard a word in my native language. Poor creature! Poor
creature!" she mumbled. "What accursed misfortune threw you into
their hands?"
"You are an English woman?" asked Bertha Kircher. "Did I understand
you aright that you are an English woman and have been here for
sixty years?"
The old woman nodded her head affirmatively. "For sixty years I
have never been outside of this palace. Come," she said, stretching
forth a bony hand. "I am very old and cannot stand long. Come and
sit with me on my couch."
The girl took the proffered hand and assisted the old lady back
to the opposite side of the room and when she was seated the girl
sat down beside her.
"Poor child! Poor child!" moaned the old woman. "Far better to have
died than to have let them bring you here. At first I might have
destroyed myself but there was always the hope that someone would
come who would take me away, but none ever comes. Tell me how they
got you.
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