rvice; the Lord have mercy on him for wishing to undo them."

"And Your Highness will still not permit the question by rack to be
used on the plainly obdurate prisoners, who are wilfully keeping back
the truth from the authorities?"

"I will not longer stand in the way of the conduct of the trial," said
the Prince sorrowfully. "Do nothing cruel except through strict
necessity. But I will have light in this darkness. If yonder man
betrayed me, whom indeed can I trust?"

The Prince left the room with an expression of the profoundest
melancholy, the Amtmann however called in the pages from the
ante-chamber, who raised up Erastus and sprinkled water over him, till
he came to himself. But the wretched man only opened his eyes, in order
to find himself taken off to the Tower. His look horrified all the
inhabitants of the Castle, who saw him pale as death tottering off
supported by two officers. "None but a convicted criminal could
possibly look so broken down. The consciousness of his treachery is
stamped upon his countenance," remarked the court servant Bachmann, who
had formerly ever numbered among the friends of the Counsellor. "I
never saw such a picture of an evil conscience. Man is a weak
creature," he said consolingly to Barbara who appeared weeping at the
door, "and the Devil always tempts the best most severely."

"Alas, how can I break this to my young mistress," cried the old woman.
"Even the search through the house has nearly killed her."

CHAPTER VII.

As Lydia on that eventful day returned from her visit to Frau Belier,
who had detained her rather longer than usual with her chattering, she
found the old servant weeping in the ante-chamber. The Amtmann and a
police officer were in her master's rooms, sobbed Barbara, opening all
the drawers searching for papers in the writing desk and taking away
whatever seemed good to them. Surprised and indignant Lydia entered the
room and asked the Amtmann, what all this meant. Herr Hartmann
comforted her with delicate compliments, which he later accompanied
with vulgar familiarities. The angry girl pushed the blackguard from
her as he attempted to stroke her cheeks, lisping something about the
golden locks of Berenice. He however laughed mockingly: "We shall get
to know each other better later on, my little dove will think better of
all this. He, he, he. Be not so bashful, he, he, he." Lydia turned her
back on him and went into the