ie," which
she owed to her patron saint, Kuni supposed was the same as "Juliane."
Besides, the daughter of the vagabond with the mutilated tongue was born
a few days after the death of little Fraulein Peutinger, and this
circumstance, when Kuni knew it, seemed significant. Soon after meeting
the vagrant pair she had listened to a conversation between two
travelling scholars, and learned some strange things. One believed that
the old sages were right when they taught that the soul of a dead person
continued its existence in other living creatures; for instance, the
great Pythagoras had known positively, and proved that his own had dwelt,
in former ages, in the breast of the hero Palamedes.

The ropedancer remembered this statement, questioned other Bacchantes
about these things, and heard the doctrine of the transmigration of the
soul confirmed. Hence, during many a solitary ride, while the cart rolled
slowly along, she pondered over the thought that Juliane's soul had lived
again in foolish Julie. How? Why? She did not rack her brains on those
points. What had been a fancy, slowly became a fixed belief in the mind
thus constantly dwelling upon one idea. At last she imagined that
whatever she did for Cyriax's child benefited the soul of the little
Augsburg girl, whose life had been shortened by her wicked prayer on the
rope.

Yet she had not bought the indulgence in vain. But for that, she believed
that Juliane's soul would still be burning in the flames of purgatory.
The indulgence of the "Inquisitor" Tetzel had proved its power, and
rescued her from the fire. To demonstrate this fact she devised many a
proof. For instance, one day the idea entered her mind that foolish
Juli's brain was so weak because Juliane, during her brief existence, had
used more of hers than was fair.

At first this had been a mere fancy; but, true to her nature, she
reverted to it again and again, while in the cart which she alone shared
with the child, until it had matured to an immovable conviction. During
her changeful, wandering life, she had had no fixed religious principles.
But, since the notion had entered her mind that Lienhard would reward her
for her love by giving her a share, even though a very small one, of his
heart, she had clung tenaciously to it, in spite of all rebuffs and the
offensive indifference with which he had treated her. On her sick bed and
during her convalescence, she had dwelt upon the fear that her sinful
praye