Explore "The Monk and the Hangman's Daughter" by Ambrose Bierce on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Every morning the dairy women come to my cabin, their merry shouts ringing in the air and echoed from the hills. They bring fresh milk, butter and cheese, chat a little while and go away. Each day they relate something new that has occurred in the mountains or been reported from the villages below. They are joyous and happy, and look forward with delight to Sunday, when there will be divine service in the morning and a dance in the evening.
Alas, these happy people are not free of the sin of bearing false witness against their neighbour. They have spoken to me of Benedicta -- called her a disgraceful wench, a hangman's daughter and (my heart rebels against its utterance) the mistress of Rochus! The pillory, they said, was made for such as she.