ut of the gates at full speed.

"God be praised!" said Althea, as she left the window, exhausted by her
feelings: "I was in terror for the brave knight."

"In terror?--already in terror?" asked her uncle mockingly, and, going
up to her, he seized her hand--"Look me fairly in the face, niece."

For a moment she cast her eyes down, then raised them up to him with
difficulty; but the effort to keep a steady gaze on her uncle's brow
kindled a rosy glow upon her own. He went on, however, without mercy--

"And now, niece, as plain an answer: if this Bohemian should ever ask
you to become his wife, would you in that case declare yourself as
roughly as you have done this day to your other suitors?"

"You torment me," said Althea, with gentle reproach. Her hand slipped
from his, and she fled out of the room.

"'Tis a clear thing!" said the uncle to himself--"Well, I have nothing
to say against it; the man pleases me--I wish he were not a Utraquist!"

* * * * *

The lovely Agatha, the daughter of the city messenger, Onophrius
Goldmann, sat at the window in her humble chamber. The spindle rested
in her hand; on her lap lay an open volume of the songs and tales of
the master-bards, but her hazel eyes wandered from the book to the
darkening street, and her bosom heaved beneath its drapery. "Twilight,"
she exclaimed, "twilight is already coming on, and still my father does
not return. O that no accident has happened to Francis!" At this
moment, some one burst open the street door, and rushed into the
chamber;--it was Francis Friend.

"I have had a glorious row with the vagabond nobles," he cried,
embracing the maiden roughly, "and the mad Netz has flayed my arm, but
I think I have paid him for it, in a way that will make him remember
me. Bind up the wound, Agatha."

"Wicked man," replied Agatha chidingly, as she stripped off the sleeve
through which the blood was welling; "you are always running wantonly
into danger, and care not for the anxiety which I suffer on your
account."

"What, am I to let those vagabonds steal the horse from my stable? In
the end they'll quarter themselves upon me, and drive me out of house
and home."

"You hate the nobles so violently, and yet have married the daughter of
a noble!"

"Unfortunately! And I do believe it is on that very account she is such
an abomination to me; but I shan't be such a fool again. My wife won't
be much longer on her feet, and wh