e was far too dear to all the members of the
family for them to give her up so easily. What had occurred--she
must admit that herself--might have induced even her best friend to
misunderstand it. For one brief moment he, too, had been tempted to
doubt her innocence. If she knew old Eysvogel's terrible situation she
would certainly do everything in her power to persuade her father to
receive him that morning, or--which would be still better--go to his
office. The weal and woe of many persons were at stake, her own above
all, since, as Wolff's betrothed bride, she belonged to him inseparably.

"Even without the ring?" interrupted Els bitterly; and when Siebenburg
eagerly lamented that he had not brought it back, she answered proudly
"Don't trouble yourself, Sir Seitz! I need this sacred pledge as little
as the man who still wears mine. Tell your kinsfolk so. I will inform my
father of Herr Casper's wish; he is asleep now. Shall I guess aright
in believing that the other disasters which have overtaken you are
connected with the waggon trains Wolff so anxiously expected?"

Siebenburg, twirling his cap in confusion, assented to her question,
adding that he knew nothing except that they were lost and, after
repeating his entreaty that she would accomplish a meeting between the
two old gentlemen, left her.

It would indeed have been painful for him to talk with Els, for a
messenger had brought tidings that the waggons had been attacked and
robbed, and the perpetrators of the deed were his own brothers and their
cousin and accomplice Absbach. True, Seitz himself had had no share in
the assault, yet he did not feel wholly blameless for what had occurred,
since over the wine and cards he had boasted, in the presence of the
robbers, of the costly wares which his father-in-law was expecting, and
mentioned the road they would take.

Seitz Siebenburg's conscience was also burdened with something quite
different.

Vexed and irritated by the countess's insulting rebuff, he had gone to
the Green Shield to forget his annoyance at the gaming table in the Duke
of Pomerania's quarters. He had fared ill. There was no lack of fiery
Rhine wine supplied by the generous host; the sultry atmosphere caused
by the rising thunderstorm increased his thirst and, half intoxicated,
and incensed by the luck of Heinz Schorlin, in whom he saw the preferred
lover of the lady who had so suddenly withdrawn her favour, he had been
led on to stakes of unpr