"The crime," returned Tausdorf, "was settled in this room by the
violent young nobles. I immediately suspected the evil that would come
of it, and warned them, but in vain."

"God reward you for the good intent," said Schindel, and he proffered
his hand to him with unfeigned cordiality: "There is, indeed, a
necessity for rational people interfering in these mad affairs, which
are now unceasing between the nobles and the citizens; one fray always
creates a multitude, and in the end both parties will be ruined by
them."

As he spoke the door was violently thrown open, and in rushed the
breathless Netz, sword in hand.

"For heaven's sake, what has happened?" cried Althea, anxiously.

"Under favour, sister," panted Netz, sheathing his sword: "Allow your
servant to fetch my horse directly. He will find it in the stable at
Barthel Wallach's. I must be off this hour from Schweidnitz, or I am
lost."

At a sign from his mistress the servant hurried out.

"But what is really the matter?" asked Schindel, pressingly: "You have
no doubt been again doing in your wrath what is not right before God."

"We went," said Netz, binding his pocket-handkerchief about his
bleeding arm, "to fetch the horse which Francis had promised
Rasselwitz. In the house we stumbled on him and some fellows of his own
stamp. From words it soon came to blows. The fray grew hot; my servant
was flung into the well: still, however, we stood our ground fairly;
but then came the police upon us with the whole tribe of city officers,
and we were overwhelmed by numbers; Bieler was killed; Rasselwitz
wounded and taken; I saw that standing out would lead to nothing but
death or a dungeon, laid about me like a boar at bay, and fortunately
cut my way through."

"Men, men!--how will you answer for that which you have done?"
exclaimed Schindel, sorrowfully.

"What! are we to take any thing and every thing of these citizens? It
may perhaps be Christian-like when one cheek is smitten to hold the
other; but to strike again is human, and I do not wish to be any thing
better than a man."

"The son of the worthy intendant killed!--and his murderer the son of
the all-powerful Erasmus!" exclaimed Schindel--"It will be a war of the
Guelphs and Ghibellines!"

"Your horse stands below," said the servant, returning: "Your lad saved
himself in good time from his cold bath, and brought it hither."

"My horse waits below too," cried Tausdorf, taking up his gloves and
ha