e storming of the Boschhuizen fortification in July.
Your bow, the blue bow from Delft, the knot of ribbons the color of the
sky, fluttered on my left shoulder as I dashed upon swords and lances. I
was not to die, and came out of the confusion uninjured. Oh! Maria, for
the sake of this oath I have suffered unequalled torments. Release me
from it, Maria, let me once, only once, freely confess--"

"Stop, Georg, stop," pleaded the young wife. "I will not, must not hear
you-neither to-day, nor tomorrow, never, never, to all eternity!"

"Once, only once, I will, I must say to you, that I love you, that life
and happiness, peace and honor--"

"Not one word more, Junker von Dornburg. There is our house. You are
our guest, and if you address a single word like the last ones to your
friend's wife--"

"Maria, Maria--oh, don't touch the knocker. How can you so unfeelingly
destroy the whole happiness of a human being--"

The door had opened, and the burgomaster's wife crossed the threshold.
Georg stood opposite to her, held out his hand as if beseeching aid, and
murmured in a hollow tone:

"Cast forth to death and despair! Maria, Maria, why do you treat me
thus?"

She laid her right hand in his, saying:

"That we may remain worthy of each other, Georg."

She forcibly withdrew her icy hand and entered the house; but he
wandered for hours through the lighted streets like a drunken man, and
at last threw himself, with a burning brain, upon his couch. A small
volume, lightly stitched together, lay on a little table beside the bed.
He seized it, and with trembling fingers wrote on its pages. The pencil
often paused, and he frequently drew a long breath and gazed with
dilated eyes into vacancy. At last he threw the book aside and watched
anxiously for the morning.

CHAPTER XXX.

Just before sunrise Georg sprang from his couch, drew out his knapsack,
and filled it with his few possessions; but this time the little book
found no place with the other articles.

The musician Wilhelm also entered the court-yard at a very early-hour,
just as the first workmen were going to the shops. The Junker saw him
coming, and met him at the door.

The artist's face revealed few traces of the want he had endured, but
his whole frame was trembling with excitement and his face changed color
every moment, as he instantly, and in the utmost haste, told Georg the
purpose of his early visit.

Shortly after the arrival of the city messenge