'Holy Cross!' exclaimed Gottlieb, low in his throat; 'the arms of
Werner! Where got he money to mount his men? Why, this is daring all
Cologne in our very teeth! 'Fend that he visit me now! Ruin smokes in
that ruffian's track. I 've felt hot and cold by turns all day.'

The horsemen came jingling carelessly along the street in scattered
twos and threes, laughing together, and singling out the maidens at the
gable-shadowed windows with hawking eyes. The good citizens of Cologne
did not look on them favourably. Some showed their backs and gruffly
banged their doors: others scowled and pocketed their fists: not a few
slunk into the side alleys like well-licked curs, and scurried off
with forebent knees. They were in truth ferocious-looking fellows these
trusty servants of the robber Baron Werner, of Werner's Eck, behind
Andernach. Leather, steel, and dust, clad them from head to foot; big
and black as bears; wolf-eyed, fox-nosed. They glistened bravely in the
falling beams of the sun, and Margarita thrust her fair braided yellow
head a little forward over her father's shoulder to catch the whole
length of the grim cavalcade. One of the troop was not long in
discerning the young beauty. He pointed her boldly out to a comrade, who
approved his appetite, and referred her to a third. The rest followed
lead, and Margarita was as one spell-struck when she became aware that
all those hungry eyes were preying on hers. Old Gottlieb was too full
of his own fears to think for her, and when he drew in his head rather
suddenly, it was with a dismal foreboding that Werner's destination in
Cologne was direct to the house of Gottlieb Groschen, for purposes only
too well to be divined.

'Devil's breeches!' muttered Gottlieb; 'look again, Grete, and see if
that hell-troop stop the way outside.'

Margarita's cheeks were overflowing with the offended rose.

'I will not look at them again, father.'

Gottlieb stared, and then patted her.

'I would I were a man, father!'

Gottlieb smiled, and stroked his beard.

'Oh! how I burn!'

And the girl shivered visibly.

'Grete! mind to be as much of a woman as you can, and soon such raff as
this you may sweep away, like cobwebs, and no harm done.'

He was startled by a violent thumping at the streetdoor, and as brazen
a blast as if the dead were being summoned. Aunt Lisbeth entered, and
flitted duskily round the room, crying:

'We are lost: they are upon us! better death with a bodkin!