umpets and high
jubilee: Hate!--I hate you, Herdegen, as I hate death, pestilence, and
hell; and I hate you twice as much since your skill with the rapier
brought the combat with the Brandenburger, into which I entrapped you,
to so perverse an end."

Hereupon Cousin Maud, wild with rage herself, gripped her again by the
arm to draw her forth from the chamber, but Ursula went on in a milder
tone:

"Only a few moments longer, I pray you; for by the Blessed Virgin and
all the Saints I swear that I would not have come hither at so late an
hour but to deliver my message to Herdegen."

My cousin released her, and she drew forth a written paper and again
enquired for Ann; howbeit my brother said that he did not purpose to
call her in, and desired that she would give him the paper, if indeed
it concerned him. To this she answered that he would presently know that
much, inasmuch as it was her intent to read it to the company, only she
would fain have had his fair mistress among the hearers. Howbeit she
had a good loud voice, she thanked the Saints, and the doors in the
Schoppers' house were scarce thicker than in other folks' houses. The
letter in her hand had been given to her to deliver to Herdegen by the
newlymade vicar of his Highness the Elector and Archbishop of Treves,
who was lodged with the Tetzels. He had not been able to find him, no
more than the Emperor's men-at-arms; so he had bidden her take good heed
that she gave it into Junker Schopper's own hand. But verily she would
do yet more, and spare him the pains of reading it.

Hereupon my brother, in great ire, bid her no longer keep that which was
not her own; yet she refused, and whereas Herdegen seized her hand to
wrench away the paper she shrieked out to the Bohemian: "Give him his
due, for a knave who offends maidens; that outcast for whom I scorned
and misprized you! Help, help, if you are no churl!"

My brother nevertheless had already snatched the letter from her, and
the Bohemian, who had laid his hand on his dagger, thought better of it
as his eye met my look of warning.

It was a fearful moment of terror, and Ursula, whose hair had fallen
loose, while her flashing blue eyes, full of hate, shot lightnings on
one and another, stood clinging to the heavy dresser whereon our silver
and glass vessels were displayed, and cried out as loudly as she could
shout: "The letter is from his lady-love in Padua, the Marchesa Bianca
Zorzi. That cunning swordsman's b