the first grey light of dawn
was already appearing in the eastern horizon on the opposite side of
the square of St. Lawrence, and perhaps Frau Ratzer would open her house
early.

The street did honour to the name of Kotgasse--[Kot or koth-mire].
Holding her dress high around her, Katterle waded across to the northern
row of houses and reached the plank sidewalk covered with mud to her
ankles; but at the same moment a door directly in front of her opened,
and two persons, a man and a woman, entered the street and glided by;
but they came from Frau Ratzer's--she recognised it by the bow-window
above the entrance. The maid hurried towards the door, which still stood
open, and on its threshold was the woman to whom she intended to pay her
early visit.

Almost unable to speak, she entreated her to grant a poor girl, who
did not know where to seek shelter at this hour, the protection of her
house.

The widow silently drew Katterle into the dark, narrow entry, shut the
door, and led her into a neat, gaily ornamented room. A lamp which was
still burning hung from the ceiling, but Frau Ratzer raised the tallow
candle she had carried to the door, threw its light upon her face, and
nodded approvingly. Katterle was a pretty girl, and the flush of shame
which crimsoned her cheeks was very becoming. The widow probably thought
so, too, for she stroked them with her fat hand, promising, as she
did so, to receive her and let her want for nothing if she proved an
obedient little daughter. Then she pinched the girl's arm with the tips
of her fingers so sharply that she shrank back and timidly told the
woman what had brought her there, saying that she was and intended
to remain a respectable girl, and had sought shelter with Frau Ratzer
because she knew what a sore disgrace she had suffered for the same
fault which had driven her from home.

But the widow, starting as if stung by a scorpion, denounced Katterle as
an impudent hussy, who rightfully belonged in the stocks, to which the
base injustice of the money-bags in the court had condemned her. There
was no room in her clean house for anyone who reminded her of this
outrage and believed that she had really committed so shameful an act.
Then, seizing the maid by the shoulders, she pushed her into the street.

Meanwhile it had grown light. The sun had just risen in the east above
the square of St. Lawrence and spread a golden fan of rays over
the azure sky. The radiant spectacle did