d the voices again but close. "She must
be here, as said the old witch," said a rough fellow. "Yes, but you
shall do her no harm," said a younger man. "I shall do nothing to her,
but what you yourself wish to do. If she is waiting for her sweetheart,
she can take us as well as any other." Lydia's blood turned icy cold.
"I believe," said the third, "that old Sibylla has played us a trick.
There is no one here. Stop, some one sat here, and beyond do I not see
something white?" At that moment the terrified Lydia sprang down the
mountain, wildly bounding down the path by which she had ascended. For
a moment the three ruffians stood still in amazement, then they
followed after like clumsy dogs in pursuit of the light-footed deer.
The descent was only very gradual and the strength of the men exceeded
the speed of the girl. The distance between the hunted maiden and the
three scoundrels behind her was gradually diminishing. When Lydia
reached the old beech tree, which stood on the saddle of the mountain,
it was clear to her, that if she kept down hill, the three would cut
her off from one side or the other. The instinct of fear bade her take
an up hill path. Her pursuers had expected her to do the contrary and
lost sight of her for a moment. "There, there," now cried out one,
pointing upwards to where Lydia was endeavoring to reach the ruins of
the Heiligenberg along the mountain ridge. The chase began anew. But in
climbing the trembling maiden had a great advantage over the heavy
footed drunken men. They were already about to give up the hunt, when
the eldest proposed to cut off the game thus escaping, and evidently
making for Heidelberg, by taking the foot path to the left. Stealthily
did the three ruffians make off in that direction. Lydia looked back
for a moment. She was no longer being pursued; she could draw breath.
Heated and half-dead through fear and fatigue, she leant against a
beech tree. Hundred lights gleamed in the town below. From the castle a
lamp in the window shone in a more friendly manner than did the others.
What would she not have given to have been there. She would rather have
been transported to Sylvan's prison than be here in the dark, in fear,
and hunted down. Quietly did she wend her way through the ruins of the
old monastery, through which wondrous shapes formed by the evening
mists arose, and she thought whether she could not find a shelter among
the tumbled down walls. But she felt afraid of remain