o execution, though reason and
the loud uproar of the raging storm opposed it.

Fran Lerch had just finished arranging her hair and handed her her
night-coif, when she started up and, with the obstinate positiveness
characteristic of her, declared that she was going at once to the
Hiltners to inform the syndic of what had happened here. Erasmus was
still in the hands of the town guards, and perhaps it would be
possible for the former to withdraw the prisoner from ecclesiastical
jurisdiction.

Frau Lerch clasped her hands in horror, exclaiming: "Holy Virgin, child!
Have you gone crazy? Go out in this weather? Whoever is not killed by
lightning will drown in the puddles."

But with that violent peal of thunder the storm had reached its height,
and when the next flash of lightning came the thunder did not follow
until some time after, though the rain continued to beat as heavily
against the panes. Yet even had the tempest continued to rage with full
fury, Barbara would not have been dissuaded from the resolution which
she had once formed.

True, her attempt to persuade Frau Lerch to accompany her remained
futile. Her frail body, the dressmaker protested, was not able to
undertake such a walk through the storm. If she yielded, it would be her
death. It would kill Barbara, also, and this crazy venture would be too
dearly paid for at the cost of two human lives.

Barbara's angry remark that if she would not run the risk of getting wet
for the sake of compassion, she might on account of the Hiltners' good
custom, finally made the excited woman burst into piteous crying; yet in
the midst of it she brought Barbara's dress and old thick cloak and, as
she put them on the girl, exclaimed, "But I tell you, child, you'll turn
back again when you get halfway there, and all you bring home will be a
bad illness."

"Whoever can execute the gagliarde to dance herself into misery,"
replied Barbara impatiently, "will not find it difficult to take a walk
through the rain to save some one else from misfortune. The cloak!"

"She will go," sobbed Frau Lerch. "The servants must still obey you.
At least order the litter. This crazy night pilgrimage can not remain
concealed."

"Then let people talk about it," replied Barbara firmly and, after
having the cloak clasped and the hood drawn over her head, she went
out. Frau Lerch, who had the key, opened the door for her amid loud
lamentations and muttered curses; but when the girl had vanish