There, indeed, was a woman with untidy hair. She was holding her hands over her heart as though she had been running hard. She was leaning against the corner of the gateway, but when she saw my face at the window she jumped forward. She shouted in a voice filled with menace, "Monster, give me my child!"

She fell to her knees, and lifted up her hands. Then she cried the same words in tones which wrung my heart. Then she tore her hair and beat her chest. Her emotions seemed to be so strong that she could hardly think. Finally, she ran forward. Though I could not see her, I could hear the beating of her naked hands against the door.

Somewhere high overhead, probably on the tower, I heard the voice of the Count. He was calling in his harsh, metallic whisper. His call seemed to be answered from far and wide by the howling of wolves. After a few minutes dozens of them came running, like water from a broken dam, through the wide entrance into the courtyard.

The woman did not make a sound, and the wolves did not howl for long. Soon they poured away, one after the other, licking their lips.