berli is a true and steadfast
fellow; but where in the wide world did you, a schoolmaster, gain
instruction in the art of throwing the dice?"

"While we were studying in Paris, with my dead foster brother," replied
the servant with evident emotion. "But now go up, my lord, before the
fire alarm, and I know not what else, makes the people upstairs separate.
The iron must be forged during this wild night. Only a few drops of rain
are falling. You can cross the street dry even without my long garment."

While speaking he divested the knight of his robe, and continued eagerly:
"Now, my lord, from the coffin, or let us say rather the leaden weight,
which oppresses your soul, let a bolt be melted that will strike
misfortune to the heart. Glittering gold has a cheering colour."

"Stop! stop!" Heinz interrupted positively. "No good wishes on the eve of
hunting or gaming.

"But if I come bounding down the stairs of the Green Shield with a purse
as heavy as my heart is just now--why, Biberli, success puts a new face
on many things, and yours shall again look at me without anxiety."

CHAPTER XII.

The thunderclouds had gathered in the blackest masses above the
Frauenthor and the Ortlieb mansion. Ere the storm burst the oppressive
atmosphere had burdened the hearts within as heavily as it weighed
outside upon tree, bush, and all animated creation.

In the servants' rooms under the roof the maids slept quietly and
dreamlessly; and the men, with their mouths wide open, snored after the
labour of the day, unconscious of what was passing outside in the sky or
the events within which had destroyed the peace of their master and his
family.

The only bed unoccupied was the one in the little room next to the stairs
leading to the garret, which was occupied by Katterle. The Swiss,
kneeling before it with her face buried in the coarse linen pillow case,
alternately sobbed, prayed, and cursed herself and her recklessness.

When the gale, which preceded the thunderstorm, blew leaves and straws in
through the open window she started violently, imagining that Herr
Ortlieb had come to call her to account and her trial was to begin. The
barber's widow, whom she had seen a few days before in the pillory, with
a stone around her neck, because she had allowed a cloth weaver's
heedless daughter to come to her lodging with a handsome trumpeter who
belonged to the city musicians, rose before her mental vision. How the
poor thing had trem