he rushing river, he shrieked
to the corpulent leech, than be dragged into the hospital, which was the
plague, death, hell.

He emphasized his resistance with heavy blows, while his Italian
companion in suffering, livid, ashen-gray, with bowed head and closed
lids, permitted himself to be placed in the litter without moving.

At Wolf's entrance the German youth, like a drowning man who sees a
friend on the shore, shrieked an entreaty to save him from the murderers
who wanted to drag him to death. The young knight gazed compassionately
at the lad's flushed face, and, after a brief pause of reflection,
proposed committing the sufferers to the care of the Knights
Hospitallers.

This removed the burden from the young Rhinelander's tortured soul, yet
he insisted, with passionate impetuosity, upon having his master and the
nobleman accompany him, that the physician whom, in his fevered fancy,
he regarded as his mortal foe, should not drag him to the pest-house
after all.

Both musicians yielded to his wish. On the way Appenzelder held
the lad's burning hand in his own, and never wearied of talking
affectionately to him. Not until after he had seen his charges, with the
physician's assistance, comfortably lodged, and had left the house of
the Hospitallers, did he permit himself to test the almost incredible
news which Sir Wolf Hartschwert had brought him.

With what fiery zeal Wolf persuaded him, how convincing was his
assurance that a substitute for Johann of Cologne, and a most admirable
one, was actually to be found here in Ratisbon!

He had no need to seek for fitting words in the description of Barbara
Blomberg, the melody of her voice, and her admirable training. The fact
that she was a woman, he protested, need not be considered, nay, it
might be kept secret. The Church, it is true, prohibited the assistance
of women, but the matter here was simply the execution of songs in a
private house.

At first Appenzelder listened grumbling, and shaking his head in
dissent, but soon the proposal seemed worth heeding; nay, when he heard
that the singer, whose talent and skill the quiet, intelligent German
praised so highly, owed her training to his countryman, Damian Feys,
whom he knew, he began to ask questions with, increasing interest.
But, ere Wolf had answered the first queries, some one else made his
appearance on the Haid, and the very person who was best fitted to give
information about Barbara--her teacher, Feys,