the closely muffled Katterle, to take the unpleasant walk to the
exasperated master and father.

The morning had been rife with important events to Biberli also. The
means of establishing a household, the conviction that it would be hard
for him to remain a contented man without the idol of his heart, and the
still more important one that it would not be wise to defer happiness
long, because, as the death of young Prince Hartmann had shown, and Pater
Benedictus made still more evident, the possibility of enjoying the
pleasures of life might be over far too speedily.

He had been within an ace of losing his Katterle forever, and through no
one's guilt save that of the man on whose truth and steadfastness she so
firmly relied. After Siebenburg's departure she had confessed with tears
to him, his master, and the monk, what had befallen her, and how she had
finally reached the Bindergasse and Sir Heinz Schorlin's lodgings.

When, during the conflagration, fearing punishment, she had fled, she
went first to the Dutzen pond. Determined to end her existence, she
reached the goal of her nocturnal and her life pilgrimage. The mysterious
black water with its rush-grown shore, where ducks quacked and frogs
croaked in the sultry gloom, lay before her in the terrible darkness.
After she had repeated several Paternosters, the thought that she must
die without receiving the last unction weighed heavily on her soul. But
this she could not help, and it seemed more terrible to stand in the
stocks, like the barber's widow, and be insulted, spit upon by the
people, than to endure the flames of purgatory, where so many
others--probably among them Biberli, who had brought her to this
pass--would be tortured with her.

So she laid down the bundle which--she did not know why herself--she had
brought with her, and took off her shoes as if she were going into the
water to bathe. Just at that moment she suddenly saw a red light
glimmering on the dark surface of the water. It could not be the
reflection of the fires of purgatory, as she had thought at first. It
certainly did not proceed from the forge on the opposite shore, now
closed, for its outlines rose dark and motionless against the moon. No--a
brief glance around verified it--the light came from the burning of the
convent. The sky was coloured a vivid scarlet in two places, but the glow
was brightest towards the southeastern part of the city, where St.
Klarengasse must be. Then she was o