Excerpt: ...for she must be a witch. Sometimes of nights when the storm howls she sings, and then we shiver. I cannot chase her away, for she knows how to conjure up devils, who serve her." Then with a sigh, he added, -- "She foretells the future, and she is never mistaken." Cosel turned and looked at the old woman; then she went over to her. She was the only one of the party bold enough; her companions, hearing witchcraft mentioned, had withdrawn to a distance. "What is her name?" she asked the German. The man hesitated, then whispered so low that even she could scarcely hear what he said, -- "Mlawa." The old woman made a movement as though she heard her name; she raised her emaciated head proudly, shook her long, hanging, grey locks, and looked around, as though searching for the bold person who had dared to mention her name. Unheeding the womans strange manner, Cosel, to the surprise of her companions, went up to the old beggar. For a moment the two women looked into each others eyes. Cosel was the first to speak. "Who are you?" she asked. "Tell me why you are so poor." Mlawa shook her head. "I am not poor," she replied proudly, "for I have memories of happy years. I am here still on the land that belonged to my family. I am the Queen." "You are a Queen?" laughed Cosel. "Yes, I am a Queen for the blood of the kings of this land flows in my veins. All things are possible in this world. You, though to-day you are almost a Queen, by to-morrow may be as miserable as I." "Of what kings are you speaking?" inquired Cosel thoughtfully. The old woman raised her hand and pointed to the surrounding country. "All that was ours--all, until you came and took it, and slew us as though we had been wild beasts. We were good; we came with bread, and salt, and song; while you came with iron, fire, and slaughter. And the German race multiplied, and pushed us out of...