bey of Conrad's, among others. "Don't
pay it!" said Conrad to the Abbot. Abbot refused accordingly; but was
put under ban by the Pope;--obliged to comply, and even to be "whipt
thrice" before the money could be accepted. Two whippings at Erfurt,
from the Archbishop, there had been; and a third was just going on
there, one morning, when Conrad, travelling that way, accidentally stept
in to matins. Conrad flames into a blazing whirlwind at the phenomenon
disclosed. "Whip my Abbot? And he IS to pay, then,--Archbishop of
Beelzebub?"--and took the poor Archbishop by the rochets, and spun him
hither and thither; nay was for cutting him in two, had hot friends
hysterically busied themselves, and got the sword detained in its
scabbard and the Archbishop away. Here is a fine coil like to be, for
Conrad.

Another soon follows; from a quarrel he had with Fritzlar, Imperial
Free-Town in those parts, perhaps a little stiff upon its privileges,
and high towards a Landgraf. Conrad marches, one morning (Year 1232)
upon insolent Fritzlar; burns the environs; but on looking practically
at the ramparts of the place, thinks they are too high, and turns to
go home again. Whereupon the idle women of Fritzlar, who are upon the
ramparts gazing in fear and hope, burst into shrill universal jubilation
of voice,--and even into gestures, and liberties with their dress, which
are not describable in History! Conrad, suddenly once more all flame,
whirls round; storms the ramparts, slays what he meets, plunders
Fritzlar with a will, and leaves it blazing in a general fire, which had
broken out in the business. Here is a pair of coils for Conrad; the like
of which can issue only in Papal ban or worse.

Conrad is grim and obstinate under these aspects; but secretly feels
himself very wicked; knows not well what will come of it. Sauntering one
day in his outer courts, he notices a certain female beggar; necessitous
female of loose life, who tremulously solicits charity of him.
Necessitous female gets some fraction of coin, but along with it
bullying rebuke in very liberal measure; and goes away weeping bitterly,
and murmuring about "want that drove me to those courses." Conrad
retires into himself: "What is her real sin, perhaps, to mine?" Conrad
"lies awake all that night;" mopes about, in intricate darkness, days
and nights; rises one morning an altered man. He makes "pilgrimage to
Gladbach," barefoot; kneels down at the church-door of Fritzlar with