hem, "has a good conscience,
may go with this and our Lord into the innermost room, lay his hand upon
the bottom of the kettle, and show it to me. Now I go to receive you
all!"

The daughters went, the friends, Eva, and all the household. The steward
questioned them as they came in: "Answer me, upon thy conscience, did
thy hand touch the flat bottom of the kettle?"

All replied, "Yes!"

"Then show me your hand!" said he; and they showed them, and all were
black: Sidsel's alone was white.

"Thou art the thief!" said the steward. "Thy evil conscience has
condemned thee. Thou hast not touched the kettle; hast not laid thy hand
upon it, or it would have become as black as that of the others. The
kettle was blackened inside with turpentine smoke; they who came with a
good conscience, knowing that their hands would remain pure like their
consciences, touched the kettle fearlessly and their hands became black!
Thou hast condemned thyself! Confess, or it will go worse with thee!"

Sidsel, uttered a horrible cry and fell down upon her knees.

"O God, help me!" said she, and confessed that she was the thief.

A chamber high up in the roof was prepared as a prison; here the
delinquent was secured until the affair, on the following day, should be
announced to the magistrate.

"Thou shalt be sent to Odense, and work upon the treadmill!" said
Wilhelm: "to that thou belongest!"

The family assembled at the tea-table. Sophie joked about the day's
adventure.

"Poor Sidsel!" said Eva.

"In England she would be hanged," said Wilhelm; "that would be a fine
thing to see!"

"Horrible!" replied Louise; "they must die of terror in going to the
gallows."

"Nay, it is very merry," said Wilhelm. "Now you shall hear what glorious
music has been set to it by Rossini!" And he played the march from
"Gazza Ladra," where a young girl is led to the gallows.

"Is it not merry?" asked he. "Yes, he is a composer!"

"To me it seems precisely characteristic," answered Otto. "They are not
the feelings of the girl which the composer wished to express; it is the
joy of the rude rabble in witnessing an execution--to them a charming
spectacle, which is expressed in these joyous tones: it is a tragic
opera, and therefore he chose exactly this character of expression!"

"It is difficult to say anything against that," replied Wilhelm; "yet
what you assert I have not heard from any other person."

"When a soldier is executed they play some livel