it beseem your rank to join these who shame their
sex----No, no! It would be said to-morrow that the ornament of the house
of Montfort had----"

"That Countess Cordula had used her hands in extinguishing the fire,"
she interrupted with gay self-confidence. "Is there any disgrace in
that? Must my noble birth debar me from being numbered among those who
help their neighbours so far as lies in their power? If any good is
accomplished here, those poor women yonder will make it no worse by
their aid. If people here believe that they do, it will give me double
pleasure to ennoble it by working with them. Putting out the flames will
not degrade me, and will make the women better. So, forward! See how the
fire is blazing yonder! Help is needed there and, thank Heaven, I am no
weakling. Besides, there are women who want assistance and, to women in
peril, the most welcome aid is woman's."

The old equerry, his eyes glittering with tears, nodded assent, and
led the way into the street; but the countess, instead of following
instantly, glanced back for the page who was to carry the bandages which
she had learned to use among her retainers at home. The agile boy did
not delay her long; but while his mistress was looking to see that he
had forgotten nothing of importance, he perceived at the window
Eva, whose beauty had long since fired his young heart, and cast a
languishing glance at her. Then Cordula also noticed her and called a
pleasant greeting. Eva was on the point of answering in the same tone,
when she remembered that Cordula had spoken of Heinz Schorlin in the
presence of others as if he were awaiting her in all submission. Anger
surged hotly in her breast, and she drew back into the room as if she
had not heard the salutation.

The countess perceived it, and shrugged her shoulders pityingly.

Eva, dissatisfied with herself, continued to gaze down into the street
long after the crowds of people flocking from the city had concealed
Cordula from her eyes. It seemed as though she would never again succeed
in anything that would bring contentment. Never had she felt so weak, so
ill-tempered, so devoid of self-reliance. Yet she could not, as usual,
seek consolation with her saint. There was so much here below to divert
her attention.

The roseate glow on the linden had become a crimson glare, the
flickering light on the opposite walls a dazzling illumination. The
wind, now blowing from the west, bore from St. Klarengasse bu