ther, as if speaking to herself.

"Because he was a stranger," hastily broke in the daughter. "He does
not speak the German of Switzerland. Did you not notice that, mother
dear?"

"It is useless to theorise about it," abruptly replied Frau Amthor.
"Come to bed, child, the storm has passed over."

And so after the daughter had read the evening prayers, they went to
their rest. But it was long after midnight before either of them closed
an eye. Lisabethli kept constantly seeing before her the true-hearted
terror-stricken gaze of the stranger, when he appealed to her to help
to soften her mother's heart, the blood on his forehead, the red
feather in his cap, while the scream of the woman who threw herself
between the combatants on the bridge, still sounded in her ears. Frau
Helena for her part was listening anxiously to what went on overhead.
For the room where the wounded man lay was immediately above her
chamber, and she thought of all the nights she had lain awake till
morning expecting the return of Andreas from his orgies, and how when
at length she heard his unsteady step, she used to turn on her pillow,
not to sleep, but to shed bitter tears. Now everything was silent
enough, only from time to time Valentin gave a short cough. The poor
lady sat up in bed, and tried to pray; "Oh Lord God," so ran her
prayer; "let him in foreign lands meet a mother to stand by him in all
time of need; and if no one will have pity on him, let him find his way
back to his own mother, that I may not die before I have once more held
his hand in mine."

* * * * *

The morning was just breaking pale and cloudy through the small round
panes, when Frau Helena left her room, and hastily dressed herself.
"Sleep another hour," said she to Lisabethli, who at once bestirred
herself too. "I will just go upstairs, and see how our guest is
faring."

The girl, however, had no wish for further rest. Very quietly she too
rose and dressed, and crept on tip-toe after her mother. On the stair
she met Donate carrying a small tray. "He has not made much of his
breakfast," said the faithful old servant. "Fearfully weak he still is,
and his hand shakes so if he tries to hold the spoon. But for the rest
a very fine handsome creature, and I would rather bite my tongue out
than betray him."

The young girl made no reply, but went on to the top of the staircase.
Once there, as the door had been left ajar, she could s