It had not been possible to him to know it. The inborn suspicion of
his nature had broken out in opposition to his love, forcing her to
acknowledge to herself that she had been wrong in loving a Jew. He had
been unable not to suspect her of some vile scheme by which she might
possibly cheat him of his property, if at the last moment she should
not become his wife. She told herself that she understood it all now--
that she could see into his mind, dark and gloomy as were its recesses.
She had wasted all her heart upon a man who had never even believed
in her; and would she not be revenged upon him? Yes, she would be
revenged, and she would cure the malady of her own love by the only
possible remedy within her reach.
The statue of St John Nepomucene is a single figure, standing in
melancholy weeping posture on the balustrade of the bridge, without
any of that ponderous strength of wide-spread stone which belongs to
the other groups. This St John is always pictured to us as a thin,
melancholy, half-starved saint, who has had all the life washed out
of him by his long immersion.
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