She is
well fitted for her trade; her mother was a harlot before her!'
He laughed scornfully, and pointed, as he spoke, to the figure of the
unhappy girl kneeling with outstretched arms at his feet.
'Father, father!' she cried, in accents bereft of their native softness
and melody, 'have you forgotten me?'
'I know you not!' he replied, thrusting her from him. 'Return to his
bosom; you shall never more be pressed to mine. Go to his palace; my
house is yours no longer! You are his harlot, not my daughter! I
command you--go!'
As he advanced towards her with fierce glance and threatening demeanour,
she suddenly rose up. Her reason seemed crushed within her as she looked
with frantic earnestness from Vetranio to her father, and then back
again from her father to Vetranio. On one side she saw an enemy who had
ruined her she knew not how, and who threatened her with she knew not
what; on the other, a parent who had cast her off. For one instant she
directed a final look on the room, that, sad and lonely though it was,
had still been a home to her; and then, without a word or a sigh, she
turned, and crouching like a beaten dog, fled from the house.
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