f the finger of scorn were pointed at her, if a stain rested
on her fair fame, the austere Wolff Eysvogel would hardly desire to make
her his wife, and then this also would be his fault.

His kind, honest heart suffered keenly under these self-accusations, the
first which he had ever heeded.

Hitherto the volatile young fellow, who had often gaily risked his life
in battle and his last penny at the gaming table, had never thought of
seriously examining his own soul, battling by his own strength of will
against some secret longing and shunning its cause. On the contrary,
from childhood he had accustomed himself to rely on the protection and
aid of the Virgin and the saints; and when they passed the image
with the ever-burning lamp, where Katterle had just sought and found
consolation, he implored it not to let his bold intrusion into the home
of the maiden he loved bring evil upon her and her sister. He also vowed
to the convent and its saint--which, come what might, should also be
his--a rich gift whenever the Emperor or the gaming table again filled
his purse.

The thought of being burdened his whole life long with the reproach
of having made two such charming, innocent creatures miserable seemed
unendurable. He would gladly have given gold and blood to remove it.

It was too late that day, but he resolved to go to the confessional on
the morrow, for absolution had always relieved and lightened his
heart. But how trivial his errors had been! True, the wrong he had now
committed was not a mortal sin, and would hardly impose a severe penance
upon him, yet it burdened him like the most infamous crime. He did not
understand himself, and often wondered why he, reckless Heinz, thus
made a mountain out of a molehill. Yet when, after this reflection, he
uttered a sigh of relief, it seemed as if a voice within commanded him
not to think lightly of what had passed, for on that evening he had
ceased to bestow pleasure on every one, and instead of, as usual,
being helpful and agreeable, he had plunged others who had done him no
wrong--nay, perhaps a whole household, whose daughter had given him
the first love of her young heart-into misery and disgrace. Had he
considered the consequences of his act, he would still be merry Heinz.
Then he remembered how, when a boy, playing with other lads high up
among the mountains just as it was beginning to thaw, he had hurled the
work they had finished with so much toil, a snow man, down th