GAY, SAD SCHEVENINGEN. 103 
‘Mein Gott! Mein Gott! Es ist Kmilie!? 
came from the lips of Herr Witzman. 
“The dashing horses seemed poised in air, 
their feet almost upon the head of one of 
the strangest looking beings I had ever seen, 
one whose peculiar costume showed her to be 
a woman of Scheveningen. ‘The feet of the 
horses descended and the human creature lay 
crushed beneath them. 
“The count uttered an exclamation of 
anger, and lashing the fiery horses dashed on 
down the street, while the lilylike lady, only 
whiter grown, with a little scream nestled 
closer to the side of the count. 
“The poor, mangled, broken piece of hu- 
manity was tenderly lifted by the old curiosity 
vender himself and carried into his little shop, 
while again he repeated, ‘Mein Gott! Es ist 
Emilie!’ 
“Upon nearer view, and with the strange 
hat which she had worn removed, I saw the 
woman’s face, though marked by toil and ex- 
posure, was finely chiseled. Its lmes of char- 
acter were drawn strong and deep. I instine- 
tively compared her face with that of the lily- 
like maiden, and found I regarded the latter as 
I had regarded the count. Her beauty was 
gone forever. 
