fallen.
When Laurenzano looked up, he saw only the fainting child being carried
from the scaffold. At the same moment the band burst out anew. "Thou
blessed light shine down," sang the peasants lustily. Laurenzano
remained in sheer despair. "Thou, thou alone art guilty of this,"
resounded in his ears. "Cain, Cain," reechoed the tiles on the roofs.
He scarcely noticed, how the ranks around him broke up. Without
knowing it, he stood alone before the block which was being cleansed
of the blood, in the midst of a group of the most villainous, and
blood-thirsty ruffians. A feeling of dumb despondency deprived his
limbs of their use. Crime had heaped itself mountain high over his
head, whilst he had only thought to serve God. Who had spilt this
blood, which the executioner was washing away? Who had driven Erastus
to jail? Who had hurried Klytia to the witches' tower? He and he alone.
Wherever he might turn, this Medusa grinned at him. To whatever he
listened, he heard only of the misery which he had caused. The whole
town spake of nothing but of himself and of his dues. Alas, why had he
not had the courage that day to drown himself at Schoenau.--He again
heard the knell of the bell of the penitent sinners tolling in his ear,
the words of the Baptist came thronging uppermost to his mind ... now,
in the Hirsch yonder they are playing the beauteous Gabrielle. "Down,
down to the Neckar, there is peace," he cried to himself But the shout
of a drunken lout that reached his ear roused him like a clap of
thunder out of his gloomy brooding.

"Come, Maier, let us go and hear the witch sing out."

"What next," replied the other, a red-haired repulsive looking ruffian,
"that's not worth the trouble."

"Yes indeed it's fine when they laugh and squeal through agony."

The young Priest shook himself together, he cast a wild despairing look
towards heaven, then he followed the hard-hearted youth, who quickly
chose the shortest path leading to the witches' tower. A small alley
led up to the old town wall, the so-called Zwinger, in which behind the
Augustine monastery rose high the Witches' Tower. In front of this Paul
saw various groups of people assembled who were gazing up at a window
in the Tower. A shriek like that of some wild beast was heard followed
by a piteous whimpering. "O, can the angelic child have come to this,
to this," Paul's conscience spake in despairing tones.

"Hear how she sings," Maier said coarsely joking, and his