respects a castaway,--a woman to whom other women
would not speak! She knew that such was her position now. She had
done a deed which would separate her for ever from those who were
respectable, and decent, and good. Peter Steinmarc would utterly
despise her. It was very well that something should have occurred
which would make it impossible that he should any longer wish to
marry her; but it would be very bitter to her to be rejected even by
him because she was unfit to be an honest man's wife. And then she
asked herself questions about her young lover, who was so handsome,
so bold, so tender to her; who was in all outward respects just what
a lover should be. Would he wish to marry her after she had thus
consented to fly with him, alone, at night: or would he wish that she
should be his light-of-love, as her aunt had been once cruel enough
to call her? There would be no cruelty, at any rate no injustice, in
so calling her now. And should there be any hesitation on his part,
would she ask him to make her his wife? It was very terrible to her
to think that it might come to pass that she should have on her knees
to implore this man to marry her. He had called her his queen, but
he had never said that she should be his wife. And would any pastor
marry them, coming to him, as they must come, as two runaways? She
knew that certain preliminaries were necessary,--certain bidding of
banns, and processes before the magistrates. Her own banns and those
of her betrothed, Peter Steinmarc, had been asked once in the church
of St. Lawrence, as she had heard with infinite disgust. She did not
see that it was possible that Ludovic should marry her, even if he
were willing to do so. But it was too late to think of all this now;
and she could only moisten the rough sacking with her tears.

"You had better get up now, dearest," said Ludovic, again bending
over her.

"Has the time come?"

"Yes; the time has come, and we must be moving. The rain is over,
which is a comfort. It is as dark as pitch, too. Cling close to me. I
should know my way if I were blindfold."

She did cling close to him, and he conducted her through narrow
streets and passages out to the city gate, which led to the railway
station. Nuremberg has still gates like a fortified town, and there
are, I believe, porters at the gates with huge keys. Nuremberg
delights to perpetuate the memories of things that are gone. But
ingress and egress are free to everybody, by nigh