t up in
it three or four days, and who had gnawed his hands around the bands
which confined them. But he died almost the moment that he was in the
air.

Several persons have made mention of that wife of a counselor of
Cologne,[564] who having been interred with a valuable ring on her
finger, in 1571, the grave-digger opened the grave the succeeding
night to steal the ring. But the good lady caught hold of him, and
forced him to take her out of the coffin. He, however, disengaged
himself from her hands, and fled. The resuscitated lady went and
rapped at the door of her house. At first they thought it was a
phantom, and left her a long time at the door, waiting anxiously to be
let in; but at last they opened it for her. They warmed her, and she
recovered her health perfectly, and had after that three sons, who all
belonged to the church. This event is represented on her sepulchre in
a picture, or painting, in which the story is represented, and
moreover, written, in German verses.

It is added that the lady, in order to convince those of the house
that it was herself, told the footman who came to the door that the
horses had gone up to the hay-loft, which was true; and there are
still to be seen at the windows of the _grenier_ of that house,
horses' heads, carved in wood, as a sign of the truth of the matter.

Francois de Civile, a Norman gentleman,[565] was the captain of a
hundred men in the city of Rouen, when it was besieged by Charles IX.,
and he was then six-and-twenty. He was wounded to death at the end of
an assault; and having fallen into the moat, some pioneers placed him
in a grave with some other bodies, and covered them over with a little
earth. He remained there from eleven in the morning till half-past six
in the evening, when his servant went to disinter him. This domestic,
having remarked some signs of life, put him in a bed, where he
remained for five days and nights, without speaking, or giving any
other sign of feeling, but as burning hot with fever as he had been
cold in the grave. The city having been taken by storm, the servants
of an officer of the victorious army, who was to lodge in the house
wherein was Civile, threw the latter upon a paillasse in a back room,
whence his brother's enemies tossed him out of the window upon a
dunghill, where he remained for more than seventy-two hours in his
shirt. At the end of that time, one of his relations, surprised to
find him still alive, sent him to a