not kill him in the church!--in the sanctuary of the saints! He
scourged me almost to death, and killed my child. But do not kill him
in the church. Honour the house of the eternal God!"

"Rather in the house of God than in the house of the good Johannes!"
said another voice.

"It is sanctuary only on the altar, not in the whole church!" cried a
third. But then Zeno heard the terrible Keix scream out:

"At the feet of the Father in heaven would I strangle him! He has at
the last murdered my old father, who had entreated me to spare the
monster. When I would not yield, he stole from my side. I found him
again when we had broken open the villain's door, and his dagger was in
my father's neck. I could murder him seven times."

"Once is enough," said Kottys, "if we murder him as slowly as we have
killed my master. Mucius the Judge we have burnt alive in the flames of
his own house."

"Halt! Look here, brother Kottys; this is the track of the fugitive.
The wounded hyena sweats blood; the fleeing miser sweats gold. See
here! at the portal it begins: then he is inside--has drawn the bolt
behind him--here, past the altar has he run; and there--through that
door into the priest's house! There he must be hidden. After him!"

"After him! Down with him!" roared the whole mob, and ran with rambling
steps across the slab over Zeno's head, away into the adjoining house.

The miser, senseless with fright, had crept back into the farthest
corner; long cowered he there; cold sweat ran from his brow.

But all remained quiet, the last sound died away; the pursuers had,
after searching the priest's house, poured out into the street.

He said to himself: "The Tribune will soon observe the conflagration,
and the uproar in the town. He has already repeatedly subdued such
riots. With his lancers he will in a few hours re-establish order."
Thus presence of mind and a certain courage slowly returned to him.

By the light of the oil-lamp, he now looked around him in the
cellar-like vault.

He stumbled against a chest. A strange curiosity, mixed with dread,
impelled him irresistibly to open it; perhaps here the sly old fellow
hid the treasures of his church! He lifted up the lid; the chest
contained nothing but papyrus rolls and parchments; spread over them
was a white, priestly garment with a hood, exactly like that which
Johannes had worn.

An idea struck the fugitive. He hastily drew the wide robe over his own
garments.

"I shall