.

A female figure glided into the dark street after them. A black shawl
concealed her head and the upper part of her figure, and she held a
bundle in her hand.

It must be Katterle.

Where was she going at this hour? As she was carrying the package, she
could scarcely intend to help in putting out the fire. Was she stealing
away from fear of punishment? Poor thing! Even the maid was hurled into
misfortune through her guilt.

It pierced her very heart. But while she called to Katterle to stop her,
something else, which engrossed her still more, diverted her
attention--the loud voice of Countess Cordula reached her from the street
door. With whom was she talking? Did the girl, who ventured upon so many
things which ill-beseemed a modest maiden, intend to join the men? Eva
forgot that she, too, would have hurried to the nuns had not her father
prevented it. The countess was already standing in the courtyard.

After Eva had given her a hasty glance she again looked for the maid, but
Katterle had already vanished in the darkness. This grieved her; she had
neglected something which might have saved the girl, to whom she was
warmly attached, from some imprudent act. But while attracted by the
strange appearance of the countess she had forgotten the other.

Cordula had probably just left her couch, for she wore only a plain dress
tucked up very high, short boots, which she probably used in hunting, and
a shawl crossed over her bosom; another was wound round her head in the
fashion of the peasant women who brought their goods to market on cold
winter days. No farmer's wife could be more simply clad, and yet--Eva was
forced to admit it--there was something aristocratic in her firm bearing.

Her companions were her father's chaplain and the equerry who had grown
grey in his service. Both were trying to dissuade her. The former pointed
to a troop of women who were following the chief of police and some city
constables, and said warningly: "Those are all wanton queans, whom the
law of this city compels to lend their aid in putting out fires. How
would it beseem your rank to join these who shame their sex----No, no! It
would be said to-morrow that the ornament of the house of Montfort
had----"

"That Countess Cordula had used her hands in extinguishing the fire," she
interrupted with gay self-confidence. "Is there any disgrace in that?
Must my noble birth debar me from being numbered among those who help
their neighbours so