les and crooked streets of the old town, as the
Italian doctor left the Castle, and descended through the Bergstadt to
his home in the so-called Klingenthor. A clear spring pattered cheerily
to the right of the dark gate-way, and the water reflected back the
silver rays of the moon. At an open bay-window of a room in a
neighbouring house stood the tall figure of a young priest, who gazed
sadly at the quivering play of the light and at the Church of St.
Peter, whose vast nave appeared doubly massive in the moonlight, and
his ear was turned towards the bustling town, from which arose a
confused wild noise of drunken voices, the screaming of shrieking
girls, and the ear-rending din of the various bands of music in the
taverns, "What has come over thee, thou noisy raging town? Thy slain
men are not slain with the sword," murmured the young Priest in the
words of Isaiah. Sounds from the Neckar were mingled with those of the
streets. These were caused by fifers and cornet-players on board a
brilliantly lighted up ship bearing the guests of the Kurfuerst to the
landing-place near the bridge, and salutes fired from the "Trutzbaier"
lighted up the darkness for seconds and re-echoed through the valley.
"Oh! that thou wouldest come down that the mountains might flow at thy
presence," sighed the pale young man. Then he heard a quick step coming
from the Castle way and soon Pigavetta's voice said from beneath: "You
have been obliged to wait for a long time, my dear Master, but His
Lordship could to-day hardly make any end to his scruples. I am coming
at once." A key was turned in the heavy lock and after a time our
excellent physician entered the lofty room in the mansarde holding a
brilliant lamp, and offered with all the grace of an Italian his hand
to his countryman who reluctantly placed therein his long slender
fingers. "I bring you good news. Master Paul," continued Pigavetta,
"your brother is here and was received by the Kurfuerst in the most
friendly manner." The young Laurenzano quickly raised his head for a
moment and the name "Felice" came like a note of joy from his thin pale
lips. Then he was silent and passing his hand over his high forehead,
the old expression of melancholy resignation returned to his face. "You
mean," said Pigavetta in the tone of a man of the world, "that it does
not become a monk to make a relation in the flesh an object of
rejoicing, and the Holy Ignatius forbids them to be considered in any
other