n the windows. Everyone wants to show that he rejoices in the good news.
Our house mustn't remain dark either."

"Don't hurry so. Barbara will attend to it, and how soon we must part!
Yet you said that I was dear to you."

"Don't torture me," cried the young wife, with pathetic entreaty.

"I will not torture you, Maria, but you must hear me. I was in earnest,
terrible earnest in the mute vow I swore, and have sought to release
myself from it by death. You have heard how I rushed like a madman among
the Spaniards, at the 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 tim