ich gift for
herself?" asked the Nuremberg imperial magistrate.

"Nothing," replied the abbot. "She gave the whole, down to her last
copper, to the stranger, though she herself must remain here, poor,
lame, and deserted--and she had only met the sick woman by accident upon
the highway. My duty forbids me to repeat the details, and how she bore
herself even while at Augsburg, but, thanks to the confession which I
have just received, I shall count this morning among those never to be
forgotten. O gentlemen, death is a serious matter, and intercourse with
the dying is the best school for the priest. Then the inmost depths of
the soul are opened to him."

"And," observed Wilibald Pirckheimer, "I think the psychologist would
then learn that, the deeper we penetrate the human breast, the darker is
the spectacle."

"Yes, my learned friend," the abbot answered, "but we also perceive that
the deepest and darkest shafts contain the purest specimens of gold and
silver ore."

"And were you really permitted to find such in this neglected vagabond,
reverend sir?" asked Doctor Eberbach, with an incredulous smile.

"As certainly," answered the prelate with repellent dignity, "as that
the Saviour was right when he called those who were pure in heart
blessed above those who were wise and overflowing with knowledge!"

Then, without waiting for the Thuringian's answer, he hastily turned to
the young ambassador and begged him to grant the dying girl, who clung
to him with tender devotion, a brief farewell.

"Willingly," replied Lienhard, requesting the physician to accompany
him.

The latter had just beckoned Doctor Peutinger to his side, to examine
with him the indulgence which he had found under the kerchief crossed
over the sick girl's bosom. It did not secure redemption from the flames
of purgatory for the ropedancer's soul, as the gentlemen expected,
but for another, and that other--the learned humanist and Imperial
Councillor would not believe his own eyes--was his beloved, prematurely
lost child. There, in large letters, was "Juliane Peutinger of
Augsburg."

Astonished, almost bewildered, the usually quiet statesman expressed his
amazement.

The other gentlemen were preparing to examine the paper with him, when
the abbot, without betraying the secret of Kuni's heart, which she
had confided to him in her confession, told Juliane's father that
the ropedancer had scarcely left the convent ere she gave up both the
Emperor's