Червона літера
The Market–Place
"Attheveryleast,theyshouldhaveputthebrandofahotirononHesterPrynne’sforehead.MadameHesterwouldhavewincedatthat,Iwarrantme.Butshe—thenaughtybaggage—littlewillshecarewhattheyputuponthebodiceofhergownWhy,lookyou,shemaycoveritwithabrooch,orsuchlike.heathenishadornment,andsowalkthestreetsasbraveasever"
"Ah,but,"interposed,moresoftly,ayoungwife,holdingachildbythehand,"lethercoverthemarkasshewill,thepangofitwillbealwaysinherheart."
"Whatdowetalkofmarksandbrands,whetheronthebodiceofhergownorthefleshofherforehead?"criedanotherfemale,theugliestaswellasthemostpitilessoftheseself-constitutedjudges."Thiswomanhasbroughtshameuponusall,andoughttodie;Istherenotlawforit?Trulythereis,bothintheScriptureandthestatute-book.Thenletthemagistrates,whohavemadeitofnoeffect,thankthemselvesiftheirownwivesanddaughtersgoastray"
"Mercyonus,goodwife"exclaimedamaninthecrowd,"istherenovirtueinwoman,savewhatspringsfromawholesomefearofthegallows?Thatisthehardestwordyet!Hushnow,gossipsforthelockisturningintheprison-door,andherecomesMistressPrynneherself."
Thedoorofthejailbeingflungopenfromwithinthereappeared,inthefirstplace,likeablackshadowemergingintosunshine,thegrimandgristlypresenceofthetown-beadle,withaswordbyhisside,andhisstaffofofficeinhishand.
