CHAPTER VIII.

Some days later, Katharine was sitting with her children at the close
of day and exerting herself to read by the fading twilight a letter of
consolation which her imprisoned husband had thrown to little Ulrich.
The door was cautiously opened and a soldier in the Lichtenstein
uniform hesitatingly entered.

'Do not be alarmed,' whispered he, as they shrunk from his approach. 'I
am Dorn, and have smuggled myself into the house in this disguise, that
I might bring you consolation and see for myself how you were situated.
Your mother and sister are in health and safety, and send kind
greetings to you. Nor need you be anxious on your husband's account. I
am certain that it is better for him to be in confinement than to be
free and expose himself to the outrages to which every hour gives
birth, and do things in moments of passion and excitement which would
only make matters worse. Should his situation become more critical, I
shall always be near him.'

'In God's name, master Dorn, what is to be the end of all this?'
anxiously asked Katharine.

'A city full of catholics,' answered Dorn with a bitter smile. 'The
count of Dohna has arrived to-day. That is a sufficient reason for
fearing the worst. From a renegade, who expects to win the principality
of Breslau by his tyrannical fury, nothing is to be hoped.'

'Then God help us!' sobbed Katharine, wringing her hands.

'By means of our arms, if it cannot be otherwise,' said Dorn, with
energy. 'I have carefully avoided encountering your worthy guest,
because I well know that one of us must in that case remain dead upon
the spot, and that would little help you in any event; but, if it
becomes necessary, I will strike the devil to the earth and free you
from him.'

'No,' anxiously entreated Katharine; 'no murder on our account.'

'That is man's work, dear lady,' said Dorn. 'No woman can reason upon
the subject. Every one must act according to his conscience. It will be
well for me and him if the necessity does not occur.'

A gentle and afterwards a more decided knock was heard at the door. A
voice asked, 'are you alone, madam Fessel?' and directly the pale and
bleeding face of parson Beer peered into the room.

'How pale you look! what has happened to you?' cried the frightened
Katharine.

'My face bears the marks of the converting zeal of the imperial
apostles,' answered the parson with suppressed anger. 'Most terribly do
these Lichtenstei