arce thicker than in other folks' houses. The
letter in her hand had been given to her to deliver to Herdegen by the
newlymade vicar of his Highness the Elector and Archbishop of Treves, who
was lodged with the Tetzels. He had not been able to find him, no more
than the Emperor's men-at-arms; so he had bidden her take good heed that
she gave it into Junker Schopper's own hand. But verily she would do yet
more, and spare him the pains of reading it.

Hereupon my brother, in great ire, bid her no longer keep that which was
not her own; yet she refused, and whereas Herdegen seized her hand to
wrench away the paper she shrieked out to the Bohemian: "Give him his
due, for a knave who offends maidens; that outcast for whom I scorned and
misprized you! Help, help, if you are no churl!"

My brother nevertheless had already snatched the letter from her, and the
Bohemian, who had laid his hand on his dagger, thought better of it as
his eye met my look of warning.

It was a fearful moment of terror, and Ursula, whose hair had fallen
loose, while her flashing blue eyes, full of hate, shot lightnings on one
and another, stood clinging to the heavy dresser whereon our silver and
glass vessels were displayed, and cried out as loudly as she could shout:
"The letter is from his lady-love in Padua, the Marchesa Bianca Zorzi.
That cunning swordsman's blade made her a widow, and now she bids him
return to her embrace. The fond and ardent lady is in Venice, and her
intent is to revel there in love and pleasure with her husband's
murderer. And he--though he may have sworn a thousand vows to the
scrivener's hussy--he will do the Italian Circe's bidding, and if he may
escape her snares he will fall into those of another. Oh! I know him; and
I feel in my soul that his fate will be to dally with one and another in
delights and raptures, till the Saints fulfil my heart's chiefest desire,
and he comes to despair and anguish and want, and the scrivener's wench
breaks her heart under my very eyes with pining and sheer shame. Away,
away, Herdegen Schopper! Go forth to joy and to misery! Go-with your pale
black-haired mate. Revel and wallow, till you, who have trampled on this
heart's true love, are brought low--as loathsome in the eyes of men as a
leper and a beggar."

And she shook the dresser so that the precious glass cup which the German
merchants of the Fondaco at Venice had given to my father at his
departing, fell to the floor and was broke