ternal injury, from which she had not yet
recovered. The assault resulted unfortunately for young Hirschhorn, who
led it; he met with a shameful death on the gallows.

The information enraged Biberli. Instead of feeling any sympathy for the
severely injured lady, he insisted that the Nuremberg burghers had dealt
with Hirschhorn in a rascally fashion; for he was a knight, and
therefore, as honest judges familiar with the law, they ought to have put
him to death by the sword instead of with the rope. And Katterle agreed
with him; she never contradicted his opinions, and surely Biberli must
know what treatment befitted a knight, since he was the foster-brother of
one.

Nor did the maid, who was in the personal service of the daughters of the
house, make any complaint against them. Indeed, she could not praise Els,
the elder, sufficiently. She was very just, the careful nurse of her
invalid mother, and always unvarying in her cheerful kindness.

She had no fault to find with Eva either, especially as she was more
religious than any one in the whole house. Spite of her marvellous
beauty--Katterle knew that there was nothing false about it--she would
probably end by joining the nuns in the convent. But her mood changed
with every breath, like the weathercock on the steeple. If she got out of
bed the wrong way, or one did not guess her wishes before they were
uttered, she would fly into a rage at the least trifle. Then she
sometimes used very unkind words; but no one could cherish anger against
her long, for she had an indescribably lovely manner of trying to atone
for the offences which her hasty young blood made her commit. She had
gone to the ball that night as if it were a funeral; she shunned men like
poison, and even kept out of the way of her sister's friends.

Biberli laughed, as if there could be no doubt of his opinion, and
exclaimed: "Just wait a while! My master will meet her at the Town Hall
tonight, and if the scrawny little squirrel I saw three years ago has
really grown up into such a beauty, if he does not get on her track and
capture her, my name isn't Biberli."

"But surely," replied Katterle doubtfully, "you told me that you had not
yet succeeded in persuading him to imitate you in steadfastness and
truth."

"But he is a knight," replied the servant, striking himself pompously
under the T on his shoulder, as if he, too, belonged to this favoured
class, "and so he is as free to pursue a woman as to hun