advise him and the Bishop protect him. As if hunted by evil spirits he
hastened onwards. On the way to Schwetzingen was a tavern. A band was
playing a new gavotte composed by the jovial Henry of Navarre, and
introduced by the French into Heidelberg. "Beauteous Gabrielle," began
the words of the text thus set to music. In his indefinite fear it
sounded like mockery. As if pricked by spurs, he hastened his pace,
whilst the merry tune pursued him for some time across the silent
fields. He breathed more freely, when he had left the "beauteous
Gabrielle" entirely behind him. Only when the sun was setting, and a
cool breeze from the Bergstrasse fanned his neck, did he question
within himself whether he had not been rather premature in thus taking
to flight? He pulled the note out of his pocket. It was a coarse piece
of paper, a large bold handwriting, evidently a man's. With a shake of
the head he once more concealed the mysterious words about him. Under
any circumstances he must consult Pigavetta, and more calmly did he
continue his journey along the stubbly road between the waving
cornfields.

The Baptist left the market-place the moment that he perceived from
afar the effect of his message. He saw how the Magister slipped up the
narrow street, how he trembled, and how finally he hastened away, but
not at all in the direction of the _rendez-vous_. "I have the greatest
mind," thought the old man laughing "to send the same message to all
these priests of Baal, I bet, that the following morning all the
pulpits in this sinful town would be empty." Some of his errands were
not quite finished; he was only free as night came on. "The deluded
maiden must be home by this time," he said, as he left the home of
his last customer; "perhaps she is sad and ashamed, I will try and
touch her better feelings, and thus spare the good Physician a great
sorrow--" and although tired and hungry he once more climbed the
Schlossberg. He found there only Erastus' housekeeper in an anxious
state of mind at the young lady's absence. "I have specimens of wheat,"
said the Miller, "and a message besides, she will not stay out much
longer and I have already climbed up here twice to-day." The old
Barbara delighted at having some one to keep her company in her
solitude, set a bowl of millet soup before him chattering away in
praise of her young mistress. He answered shortly, and listened in
great distress of mind to every sound. Midnight was approaching an