streaming, opened
the door again and the Abbot of St. AEgidius approached the couch,
to render aid to the dying for the second time that night, he saw by
Hartmann Schedel's face that he had not come too soon.

The ropedancer had recovered consciousness, and the kind prelate's
presence was a solace to her. The confession lasted a long time, and the
story which she had to confide to the priest must have been as strange
as it was interesting, for the abbot listened eagerly and with evident
emotion. When he had performed the duties of his office he remained
alone for a time; he could not immediately regain a mood in which
he cared to rejoin the others. He did not ask for the gentlemen from
Cologne; those from Nuremberg, whom he sought, had returned to the table
in front of the tavern long before.

The waves of the Main were now reflecting the golden light of the
morning sun. Dewdrops glittered on the grass and flowers in the meadow
with the cart, and in the landlady's little garden. Carriers' men were
harnessing the freshly groomed bays to the pole. The brass rings on
the high collars of the stallions jingled loudly and merrily, and
long whiplashes cracked over the four and six-horse teams which were
beginning the day's journey along the highroad.

But even the rattling of the carts and the trampling of the horses'
hoofs could not rouse the Cologne professors, who, with their clerical
companions, had gone to rest, and slept in darkened rooms until late
into the morning. Most of the humbler guests had already left their
straw beds.

Cyriax was one of the first who followed the road. He had sold his
cart and donkey, and wanted to burden his red-haired wife with his
possessions, but as she resolutely refused he had taken the bundle on
his own lazy shoulders. Now he dragged himself and his new load onward,
swearing vehemently, for Ratz had remained with the cart in Miltenberg,
where the sham lunatic no longer found it safe to stay. This time it was
he who was obliged to pull his wife along by the chain, for she had long
refused, as if fairly frantic, to desert the dying girl who had nursed
her child so faithfully. Again and again the doubly desolate woman
looked back toward the companion whom she had abandoned in her suffering
until they reached Frankfort. There Gitta left Cyriax and accompanied
Ratz. The cart in which her child had lived and died, not its repulsive
owner, induced her to sever the bond which, for nine year