de. And now she was about to mount the
church steps, she would be obliged to pass close by him, perhaps near
enough for her dress to touch his own; for the crowd was dense behind,
and pressed forward upon those who stood, like him, in the foremost row.
The agitation of his companion equaled, perhaps exceeded, his own.

The clergy now stood under the church gate--the preceding guards had
stationed themselves on either side of the arch--the Ober-Amtmann,
leading his daughter by the hand, had reached the broad surface of the
highest step, where stood the aged female and the young artist, when the
agitated Magdalena, unable to control her feelings as the governor and
his fair child passed so near, bent lowly down, and seized the hem of
Bertha's garment to kiss it unperceived. At that moment, a rude gripe
seized her arm and dragged her up, and a harsh voice shrieked in her
ear--"Touch her not, hag of hell, to cast thy infernal spells upon her!"
A scream of terror burst from Magdalena as she recognised Black Claus,
the witchfinder.

"Noble Ober-Amtmann, hear me!" cried the cripple, pushing forward with
force, and arresting with a wild gesture the progress of the dignitary.
"I here denounce, before your noble honour, this wretched woman as a
most foul and most notorious witch."

In the rude attack thus made upon the unhappy woman--on her terror and
surprise--the cross-topped pilgrim's staff slipped from her grasp, and
slightly wounding the fair neck of Bertha, it fell upon the pavement,
and was splintered into several pieces.

"See, see!" screamed the witchfinder, "how she strives to harm the
innocent and good, and destroys and tramples under foot--curses on
her!--the holy symbols of the church."

With a feeling of horror and alarm, for which the credence in witchcraft
and its agents that pervaded all ranks and classes at that age gave full
warrant, Bertha clung with a scream to her father's breast, and sought
protection in his arms. At this sight the unhappy Magdalena uttered a
bitter cry of despair, and raising her clasped hands aloft,
exclaimed--"O God! Thou punishest me too bitterly."

"Hear ye," cried the witchfinder, "how she owneth her crime even in her
blasphemy!"

With one arm the Ober-Amtmann pressed the terrified Bertha to his bosom,
and, with the other, signed to some of the guards to surround the old
woman. At this moment the sight of the blood which had trickled in a few
insignificant drops upon her veil,