ervice, for
wherever my racked body was touched I believe there would be something
out of joint."

Herr Berthold had no reason to be ashamed of his emotion, for he
had learned from the barber that the poor fellow had by no means
exaggerated, and, as a witness of part of the torture, he knew that even
the most cruel anguish had not conquered the faithful Biberli's firm
resolve to bring neither his master nor his sweetheart before the judge.

In recalling this noble act of the lowly servitor he grew eloquent, and
described minutely what the poor fellow had suffered, and how, after
Katterle had left him, he lay motionless, with his thin, pale face
irradiated by a grateful smile.

The women, too, and the monk AEgidius, an old Minorite, who had been
watching beside the aged Brother of his order, Benedictus, and had just
joined them, shed tears at his story; but Eva, from the very depths of
her soul, exclaimed aloud, "Happy is he who is permitted to endure such
tortures for love's sake!"

The others gazed in surprise at the young girl who, with her clasped
hands pressed upon her heaving bosom, and her large eyes uplifted,
looked as if she beheld heaven opening before her.

The old Minorite's heart swelled at this confession and the sight of
the maiden. Thus, though far less richly endowed with the divine gift of
beauty, he had seen St. Clare absorbed in prayer. The words uttered by
the fresh lips of this favoured girl, whom he beheld for the first time,
expressed a feeling which might guide her into the path of the Holy
Martyrs and, filled with pious enthusiasm, he approached, drew her
clasped hands away from her breast, pressed them in his own and,
remembering what the Abbess Kunigunde had told him yesterday beside the
couch of Benedictus concerning her severe conflict, exclaimed:

"Whoever said that, knows the words of Holy Writ which promise the crown
of eternal life to those who are faithful unto death. Obey the voice,
my child, which unites you to those who are called. St. Clare herself
summons you to her heavenly home."

The others listened to the old monk in silence. Eva slightly shook her
head. But when the disappointed Minorite released her hands she clasped
his thin one, saying modestly: "How could I be worthy of so sublime
a promise? The poor servant on his straw bed, with his T and St
embroidered on cap and cloak, of whom my uncle told us, has a tenfold
greater claim, I think, to the crown of life, for whi