most of the crowd, who had pressed down the narrow lane
leading to the water's edge, between the premises of the Benedictine
monastery and the palace garden, eager to gain an unoccupied point
whence they might watch the flight, stood "Gentle Gottlob."

From under the small water-gate, the stone passage of which was
partially flooded by the unusually rising waters, he had seen the
frightful catastrophe which had accompanied the sweeping away of the
bridge. He stood overwhelmed with grief at the fate of the poor woman,
whom he had uselessly striven to save; his eye fixed upon the roaring
waters, without seeing distinctly any thing but a sort of wild turmoil,
which accorded well with his own troubled reflections; when a cry from
the crowd, which still lingered on the spot, recalled him to himself.

"Look, look!" cried several voices. "There it is again! It is a body!"

On the dark surface of the waters, Gottlob saw a form whirled by the
force of the current towards the water-gate.

"It is the witch! it is the witch!" again cried the crowd, as the
sackcloth garment of the unhappy Magdalena showed itself above the
stream.

In another moment Gottlob had rushed into the water, to seize the body
as it was whirled past the water-gate, and was almost dashed against the
stone-piles.

"Touch her not!" screamed again the bystanders. "It is the witch! it is
the witch!"

But Gottlob heeded not the shouts of the crowd. Holding by one hand on
the trunk of a tree overhanging the water, in order to bear up against
the violence of the stream, he grasped with the other the dress of the
floating female before it again sank beneath the whirling eddy. He
pulled it towards him with force; and, after with difficulty struggling
against the force of the current, at length succeeded in bearing the
lifeless form of Magdalena under the gateway.

Streaming himself with water, he laid the cold wet body down upon the
stones, and bent over it, to see whether life had fled from it for ever.
The crown drew back with horror, uttering cries of vain expostulation.

"Thank Heaven! she still breathes," said Gottlob at last, as, after some
moments, a slight convulsive movement passed over the frame of the poor
woman. "Aid me, my friends. She still lives. Help me to transport her to
some house." But the crowd drew back in horror. "I will convey her to my
own chamber close by. Send for a leech! Are ye without pity?" he
continued, as, instead of assisting