How Sidonia demeans herself at the castle of Saatzig, and how Clara forgets the injunctions of her beloved husband, when he leaves her to attend the Diet at Wollin, on the subject of the courts—Item, how the Serene Prince Duke Johann Frederick beheads his court fool with a sausage.

Summa.—Sidonia went to the castle of Saatzig, and her worthy cousin Marcus gave her a little chamber to herself, in the third story, close to the tower. It was the same room in which she afterwards sat as a witch, for some days ere she was taken to Oderburg. There was a right cheerful view from the windows down upon the lake, which was close to the castle, and over the little town of Jacobshagen, as far even as the meadows beyond. Here, too, was left a Bible for her, and the Opera Lutheri in addition, with plenty of materials for spinning and embroidery, for she had refused to weave. Item, a serving-wench was appointed to attend on her, and she had permission to walk where she pleased within the castle walls; but if ever seen beyond the domain, the keepers had orders to bring her back by force, if she would not return willingly.

In fine, the careful knight took every precaution possible to render her presence as little baneful as could be, for, truth to say, he had no faith whatever in her tears and seeming repentance.

First, he strictly forbade all his secretaries to interchange a word with her, or even look at her. They need not know his reason, but any one who transgressed his slightest command in this particular, should be chased away instantly from the castle.

Secondly, he prayed his dear wife to let Sidonia eat her meals alone, in her own little room, and never to see her but in the presence of a third person.

Also, never to accept the slightest gift from her hand—fruit, flower, or any kind of food whatsoever. These injunctions were the more necessary, as the young bride had already given hopes of an heir. Sidonia's rage and jealousy at this prospect of complete happiness for Clara may be divined from her words to her maid, Lene Penkun, a short time after she reached the castle—

"Ha! they are talking of the baptism already, forsooth; but it might have been otherwise if I had come across her a little sooner!"

This same maid also she sent to Daber for the spirit Chim, which had been left behind at the last resting-place of the robbers, never telling her it was a spirit, however, only a tame cat, that was a great pet of hers. "It must be half dead with hunger now, for it was four days since she had left it in the hollow of an old oak in the forest, the poor creature! So let the maid take a flask of sweet milk and a little saucer to feed it. She could not miss her way, for, when she stepped out of the high-road at Daber into the forest, there was a thorn-bush to her left hand, and just beyond it a large oak where the ravens had their nests; in a hollow of this oak, to the north side, lay her dear little cat. But she must not tell any one about the matter, or they would laugh at her for sending her maid two miles and more to look for a cat. Men had no compassion or tenderheartedness nowadays to each other, much less to a poor dumb animal. No; just let her say that she went to fetch a robe which her mistress had left in the oak. Here was an old gown; take this with her, and it would do to wrap up the poor little pussy in it after she had fed it and warmed it, so that no one might see it, for what a mock would all these pitiless men make of her, if they heard the object of her message; but she was not cruel like them."

Now, after some time, it happened that the states of the duchy assembled at Wollin, to come to some arrangement with his Highness respecting the opening of the courts of justice; and Marcus Bork, along with all the other nobles, was summoned to attend the Diet. So, with great grief, he had to leave his dear wife, but promised, if possible, to return before she was taken with her illness. Then he bid her be of good courage, and, above all things, to guard herself, against Sidonia, and mind strictly all his injunctions concerning her.

Alas! she too soon flung them all to the winds! For, behold, scarcely had the good knight arrived at Wollin, when Clara was delivered of a little son, at which great joy filled the whole castle. And one messenger was despatched to Marcus, and another to old Dewitz and his wife, with the tidings; but woe, alas! the good old mother was going to stand sponsor for a nobleman's child in the neighbourhood, and could not hasten then to save her dear daughter from a terrible and cruel death. She cooked some broth, however, for the young mother, and pouring it into a silver flask, bid the messenger ride back with all speed to Saatzig, that it might not be too cold. She herself would be over in the morning early with her husband, and let her dear little daughter keep herself warm and quiet.

Meanwhile Sidonia had heard of the birth, and sent her maid to wish the young mother joy, and ask her permission just to give one little kiss to her new cousin, for they told her he was a beautiful infant.

Alas, alas! that Clara's joy should make her forget the judicious cautions of her husband! Permission was given to the murderess, and down she comes directly to offer her congratulations; even affecting to weep for joy as she kissed the infant, and praying to be allowed to act as nurse until her mother came from Daber.

"Why, she had no one about her but common serving-women! How could she leave her dearest friend to the care of these old hags, when she was in the castle, who owed everything to her dear Clara?"

And so she went on till poor Clara, even if she did not quite believe her, felt ashamed to doubt so much apparent affection and tenderness.

Summa.—She permitted her to remain, and we shall soon see what murderous deeds Sidonia was planning against the poor young mother. But first I must relate what happened at the Diet of Wollin, to which Marcus Bork had been summoned.

His Highness Duke Johann had become somewhat more gracious to the states since they had come to the Diet at their own cost, which was out of the usage; and further, because, as old Ulrich prophesied, he himself had felt the inconveniences resulting from the present lawless state of the country.

Still he was ill-tempered enough, particularly as he had a fever on him; and when the states promised at last that they would let him have the money, he said, "So far good; but, till he saw the gold, the courts should not be opened. Not that he misdoubted them, but then he knew that they were sometimes as tedious in handing out money as a peasant in paying his rent. The courts, therefore, should not be opened until he had the gold in his pot, so it would be to their own profit to use as much diligence as possible." At this same Diet his Grace related how he first met Clas, his fool, which story I shall set down here for the reader's pastime.

This same fool had been nothing but a poor goose-herd; and one day as he was on the road to Friedrichswald with his flock, my gracious lord rode up, and growing impatient at the geese running hither and thither in his path, bid the boy collect them together, or he would strike them all dead.

Upon which the knave took up goose after goose by the throat, and stuck them by their long necks into his girdle, till a circle of geese hung entirely round his body, all dangling by the head from his waist.

This merry device pleased my lord so much, that he made the lad court-jester from that day, and many a droll trick he had played from that to this, particularly when his Highness was gloomy, so as to make him laugh again. Once, for instance, when the Duke was sore pressed for money, by reason of the opposition of the states, he became very sad, and all the doctors were consulted, but could do nothing. For unless his Grace could be brought to laugh (they said to the Lady Erdmuth), it was all over with him. Then my gracious lady had the fool whipped for a stupid jester, who could not drive his trade; for if he did not make the Duke laugh, why should he stay at all in the castle?

What did my fool? He collected all the princely soldatesca, and got leave from their Graces to review them; and surely never were seen such strange evolutions as he put them through, for they must do everything he bid them. And when his Highness came forth to look, he laughed so loud as never had fool made him laugh before; and calling the Duchess, bid him repeat his experimentum many times for her. In fine, the fool got the good town of Butterdorf for his fee, which changed its name in honour of him, and is called Hinzendorf to this day (for his name was Hinze).

But Clas Hinze had not been able to cure my Lord Duke of his fever, which attacked him at the Diet at Wollin, nor all the doctors from Stettin, nor even Doctor Pomius, who had been sent from Wolgast by the old Duchess, to attend her dear son; and as the doctor (as I have said) was a formal, priggish little man, he and the fool were always bickering and snarling.

Now, one day at Wollin, the weather being beautiful, his Grace, with several of the chief prelates, and many of the nobility, went forth to walk by the river's side, and the fool ran along with them; item, Doctor Pomius, who, if he could not run, at least tried to walk majestically; and he munched a piece of sugar all the time, for he never could keep his mouth still a moment. Seeing his Grace now about to cross the bridge, the doctor started forward with as much haste as was consistent with his dignity, and seizing his Highness by the tail of the coat, drew him back, declaring, "That he must not pass the water; all water would give strength to the fever-devil." But his Highness, who was talking Latin to the Deacon of Colberg, turned on the doctor with—"Apage te asine!" and strode forward, whilst one of the nobles gave a free translation aloud for the benefit of the others, saying, "And that means: Begone, thou ass!"

When the fool heard this, he clapped the little man on the back, shouting, "Well done, ass! and there is thy fee for curing our gracious Prince of his fever."

This so nettled the doctor that he spat out the lump of sugar for rage, and tried to seize the fool; but the crowd laughed still louder when Clas jumped on the back of an old woman, giving her the spur with his yellow boots in the side, and shaking his head with the cap and bells at the little doctor in mockery, who could not get near him for the crowd. So the woman screamed and roared, and the people laughed, till at last the Duke stopped in the middle of the bridge to see what was the matter. When the fool observed this, he sprang off the old woman's back, and calling out to the doctor—"See how I cure our gracious lord's fever," ran upon the bridge like wind, and, seizing the Duke with all his force, jumped with him into the water.

Now the people screamed from horror, as much as before from mirth, and thirty or forty burghers, along with Marcus Bork, plunged in to rescue his Highness, whilst others tried to seize the fool, threatening to tear him in pieces. This was a joyful hearing to Doctor Pomius. He drew forth his knife—"Would they not finish the knave at once? Here was a knife just ready."

But the fool, who was strong and supple, swung himself up to the bridge, and crouched in between the arches, catching hold of the beams, so that no one dared to touch him there, and his Highness was soon carried to land. He was in a flaming rage as he shook off the water.

"Where is that accursed fool? He had only threatened to cut off his head at Daber, but now it should be done in earnest."

So the fool shouted from under the bridge—"Ho! ho! the courts are all closed! the courts are all closed!" At which the crowd laughed so heartily, that my Lord Duke grew still more angry, and commanded them to bring the fool to him dead or alive.

Hearing this, the fool crept forward of himself, and whimpered in his Low Dutch, "My good Lord Duke, praise be to God that we've made the doctor fly. I'll give him a little piece of drink-money for his journey, and then I'll be your doctor myself. For if the fright has not cured you, marry, let the deacon be your fool, and I will be your deacon as long as I live."

However, my gracious lord was in no humour for fun, but bid them carry off the fool to prison, and lock him up there; for though, indeed, the fever had really quite gone, as his Highness perceived to his joy, yet he was resolved to give the fool a right good fright in return.

Therefore, on the third day from that, he commanded him to be brought out and beheaded on the scaffold at Wollin. He wore a white shroud, bordered with black gauze, over his motley jacket, and a priest and melancholy music accompanied him all the way; but Master Hansen had directions that, when the fool was seated in the chair with his eyes bound, he should strike the said fool on the neck with a sausage in place of the sword.

However, no one suspected this, and a great crowd followed the poor fool up to the scaffold; even Doctor Pomius was there, and kept close up to the condemned. As the fool passed the ducal house, there was my lord seated at a window looking out, and the fool looked up, saying, "My gracious master, is this a fool's jest you are playing me, or is it earnest?"

To which the Duke answered, "You see it is earnest."

Then answered the fool, "Well, if I must, I must; yet I crave one boon!"

When the promise was granted, the knave, who could not give up his jesting even on the death-road, said, "Then make Doctor Pomius herewith to be fool in my place, for look how he is learning all my tricks from me—sticking himself close up to my side."

Hereat a great shout of laughter pealed from the crowd, and the
Duke motioned with the hand to proceed to the scaffold.

Still the poor fool kept looking round every moment, thinking his Grace would send a message after them to stop the execution, but no one appeared. Then his teeth chattered, and he trembled like an aspen leaf; for Master Hansen seized hold of him now, and put him down upon the chair, and bound his eyes. Still he asked, with his eyes bound, "Master, is any one coming?"

"No!" replied the executioner; and throwing back his red cloak, drew forth a large sausage in place of a sword, to the great amusement of the people. With this he strikes my fool on the neck, who thereupon tumbles down from the stool, as stone dead from the mere fright as if his head and body had parted company—yea, more dead, for never a finger or a muscle did the poor fool move more.

This sad ending moved his Grace even to tears; and he fell into a yet greater melancholy than before, crying, "Woe! alas! He gave me my life through fright, and through fright I have taken away his poor life! Ah, never shall I meet with so good and merry a fool again!"

Then he gave command to all the physicians to try and restore him, and he himself stood by while they bled him and felt his pulse, but all was in vain; even Doctor Pomius tried his skill, but nothing would help, so that my lord cried out angrily—

"Marry, the fool was right. The fools should be doctors, for the doctors are all fools. Away with ye all, and your gibberish, to the devil!"

After this he had the said fool placed in a handsome black coffin, and conveyed to his own town of Hinzendorf, there to be buried; and over his grave my lord erected a stately monument, on which was represented the poor fool, as large as life, with his cap and bells, and staff in his hand; and round his waist was a girdle, from which many geese dangled, all cut like life, while at his side lay his shepherd's bag, and at his feet a beer-can. The figure is five feet two inches long, and bears a Latin inscription above it, which I forget; but the initials G. H. are carved upon each cheek. [Footnote: His original name was GÜrgen Hinze, not Clas. The Latin inscription is nearly effaced, but the beginning is still visible, and runs thus: "Caput ecce manus gestus que;" from which Oelrichs concludes that the whole was written in hexameters. (See his estimable work, "Memoirs of the Pomeranian Dukes," p. 41.)]

Shortly after the death of the fool a messenger arrived from Saatzig to Marcus Bork, bringing him the joyful tidings that the Lord God had granted him the blessing of a little son. So he is away to my Lord Duke, to solicit permission to leave the Diet and return to his castle. This the Duke readily granted, seeing that he himself was going away to attend the funeral of the poor fool at Hinzendorf. Then he wished Marcus joy with all his heart, which so emboldened the knight that he ventured to make one more effort about the opening of the courts, praying his Grace to put faith in the word of his faithful states, and open the courts and the treasury without further delay.

But his Grace is wroth: "What should he be troubled for? The states could give the money when they chose, and then all would be right. Let the nobles do their duty. He never saw a penny come out of their pockets for their Prince."

"But his Highness knew the poor peasants were all beggared; and where could the nobles get the money?"

"Let them go to their saving-pots, then, where the money was turning green from age; better for them if they had less avarice. Why did not he himself bring him some gold, in place of dressing up his wife in silks and jewels, finer than the Princess Erdmuth herself, his own princely spouse? Then, indeed, the courts might be soon opened," &c. So the sorrowing knight took his leave, and each went his different way.

CHAPTER XVI.

How Sidonia makes poor Clara appear quite dead, and of the great mourning at Saatzig over her burial, while Sidonia dances on her coffin and sings the 109th psalm—Item, of the sermon and the anathema pronounced upon a wicked sinner from the altar of the church.

I must first state that this horrible wickedness of Sidonia, which no eye had seen nor ear heard, neither had it entered into the heart of man to conceive (for only in hell could such have been imagined), never would have come to light but that she herself made confession thereof to Dr. Cramero, thy well-beloved godfather, in her last trial. And he, to show how far Satan can lead a poor human creature who has once fallen from God, related the same to my worthy father-in-law, Master David Reutzio, some time superintendent at the criminal court, from whose own lips I received the story.

And this was her confession:—That when the messenger returned from Daber with the broth, he had ridden so fast that it was still, in truth, quite hot, but she (the horrible Sidonia), who was standing at the bed of the young mother, along with the other women, pretended that it was too cold for a woman in her state, and must just get one little heating on the fire.

The poor Clara, indeed, showed unwillingness to permit this, but she ran down with it, and secretly, without being seen by any of the other women, poured in a philtrum that had been given her by the gipsy hag, and then went back again for a moment. This philtrum was the one which produced all the appearance of death. It had no taste, except, perhaps, that it was a little saltish. Therefore Clara perceived nothing wrong, only when she tasted it, said, "My heart's dearest mother, in her joy, has put a little too much salt into her broth; still, what a heart's dearest mother sends, must always taste good!" However, in one hour after that, Clara lay as stiff and cold as a corpse, only her breath came a little; but even this ceased in a short time, and then a great cry and lamentation resounded through the whole castle. No one suspected Sidonia, for many said that young women died so often; but even the old mother, who arrived a few hours after, and hearing the cries from the castle while she was yet far off, began to weep likewise; for her mother's heart revealed the cause to her ere she had yet descended from the carriage.

But it was a sadder sight next evening, when the husband arrived at the castle from Wollin. He could not take his eyes from the corpse. One while he kissed the infant, then fixed his eyes again upon his dead wife, and sighed and groaned as if he lay upon the rack. He alone suspected Sidonia, but when she cried more than they all, and wrung her hands, exclaiming, who would have pity on her now, for her best friend lay there dead! and flung herself upon the seeming corpse, kissing it and bedewing it with her tears, and praying to have leave to watch all night beside it, for how could she sleep in her sore grief and sorrow? the knight was ashamed of his suspicions, and even tried to comfort her himself.

Then came the physicians out of Stargard and other places, who had been summoned in all haste, and they gabbled away, saying, "It could not have been the broth, but puerperal fever." This at least was Dr. Hamster's opinion, who knew all along it would be a bad case. Indeed, the last time he was at the castle visiting the mower's wife, he was frightened at the look of the poor lady. Still, if they had only sent for him in time, this great evil could not have happened, for his pulvis antispasmodicus was never known to fail; and so he went on chattering, by which one can see that doctors have always been the same from that time even till now.

Summa.—On the third day the poor Clara was laid in her coffin, and carried to her grave, with such weeping and lamentation of the mourners and bearers as never had been heard till then. And all the nobles of the vicinage, with the knights and gentlemen, came to attend her funeral at Saatzig Cathedral, for she was to be buried in this new church just finished by his Grace Duke Johann, and but one corpse had been laid in the vaults before her. [Footnote: The beautifully painted escutcheon of Duke Johann and his wife, Erdmuth of Brandenburg, is still to be seen on the chancel windows of this stately staircase.]

But what does the devil's sorceress do now? She knew that the poor Clara would awake the next day (which was Sunday) about noon, and if any should hear her cries, her plans would be detected. Therefore, about ten of the clock she ran to Marcus, with her hair all flowing down her shoulders, saying, that he must let her away that very day to Zachow, for what would the world say if she, a young unmarried thing, should remain here all alone with him in his castle? No; sooner would she swallow the bitter cup her father had left her than peril her name. But first, would he allow her to go and pray alone in the church? Surely he would not deny her this.

Thereupon the simple knight gave her instant leave—"Let her go and pray, in God's name. He himself would soon be there to hear the Reverend Dr. Wudargensis preach the funeral sermon over his heart's dear wife. And after service he would desire a carriage to be in readiness to convey her to Zachow."

Then he called to the warder from the window, bidding him let Sidonia pass. So she went forth in deep mourning garments, glided through the castle gardens, and concealing herself by the trees, slipped into the church without any one having perceived her; for the sexton had left the door open to admit fresh air, on account of the corpse. Then she stepped over to the little grated door near the altar, which led down into the vault, and softly lifting it, stepped down, drawing the door down again close over her head. Clara's coffin was lying beneath, and first she laid her ear on it and listened, but all was quite still within. Then removing the pall, she sat herself down upon the lid. Time passed, and still no sound. The sexton began to ring the bell, and the people were assembling in the church above. Soon the hymn commenced, "Now in peace the loved one sleepeth," and ere the first verse had ended, a knocking was heard in the coffin, then a cry—"Where am I? What brought me here? Let me out, for God's sake let me out! I am not dead. Where is my child? Where is my good Marcus? Ah! there is some one near me. Who is it? Let me out! let me out!" Then (oh! horror of horrors!) the devil's harlot on her coffin answered, "It is I, Sidonia! this pays thee for acting the spy at Wolgast. Lie there and writhe till thou art stifled in thy blood!" Now the voice came again from the coffin, praying and beseeching, so that many times it went through her stony heart like a sword. And just then the first verse of the hymn ended, and the voice of the priest was heard asking the lord governor whether they should go and sing the remainder over the vault of his dear spouse, for it was indeed sung in her honour, seeing she had been ever a mother to the orphan, and a holy, pious, and Christian wife; or, since the people all knew her worth, and mourned for her with bitter mourning, should they sing it here in the nave, that the whole congregation might join in chorus? [Footnote: These interruptions were by no means unusual at that period.]

To this the governor, in a loud yet mournful voice, gave answer—

"Alas, good friends, do what you will in this sad case; I am content."

But Sidonia, this devil's witch, was in a horrible fright, lest the priest would come up to the altar to sing the hymn, and so hear the knocking within the coffin. However, the devil protects his own, for, at that instant, many voices called out—

"Let the hymn be sung here, that we may all join to the honour of the blessed soul of the good lady."

And mournfully the second verse was heard pealing through the church, from the lips of the whole congregation, so that poor Clara's groans were quite smothered. For, when the voice of her dear husband reached her ear, she had knocked and cried out with all her strength—

"Marcus! Marcus! Alas, dear Lord, will you not come to me!" Then again—"Sidonia, by the Jesu cross, I pray thee have pity on me. Save me—save me—I am stifling. Oh, run for some one, if thou canst not lift the lid thyself!"

But the devil made answer to the poor living corpse—

"Dost thou take me for a silly fool like thyself, that I should now undo all I have done?"

And as the voice went on from the coffin, but feebler and fainter—

"Think on my husband—on my child, Sidonia!"

She answered—

"Didst thou think of that when, but for thee, I might have been a Duchess of Pomerania, and the proud mother of a prince, in place of being as I now am."

Then all became still within the coffin, and Sidonia sprang upon it and danced, chanting the 109th psalm; [Footnote: Superstition has found many sinful usages for this psalm. The Jews, for example, took a new vessel, poured a mixture of mustard and water therein, and after repeating this psalm over it for three consecutive days, poured it out before the door of their enemy, as a certain means to ensure his destruction. In the middle ages monks and nuns were frequently obliged to repeat it in superstitious ceremonies, at the command of some powerful revengeful man. And that its efficacy was Considered as something miraculously powerful, even by the evangelical Church, is proved by this example of Sidonia, who made frequent use of this terrible psalm in her sorceries, as any one may see by referring to the records of the trial in DÄhnert. And other interesting examples are found in the treatise of Job. Andreas Schmidii, Abusus Psalmi 109 imprecatorii; vulgo, The Death Prayer, Helmstadt, 1708.] and as she came to the words, "Let none show mercy to him; let none have pity on his orphans; let his posterity be cut off and his name be blotted out," there was a loud knocking again within the coffin, and a faint, stifled cry—"I am dying!" then followed a gurgling sound, and all became still. At that moment the congregation above raised the last verse of the hymn:—

"In the grave, with bitter weeping,
Loving hands have laid her down;
There she resteth, calmly sleeping,
Till an angel lifts the stone."

But the sermon which now followed she remembered her life long. It was on the tears, the soft tears of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. And as her spirit became oppressed by the silence in the vault, now that all was still within the coffin, she lifted the lid after the exordium, to see if Clara were indeed quite dead.

It was an easy matter to remove the cover, for the screws were not fastened; but—O God! what has she beheld? A sight that will never more leave her brain! The poor corpse lay all torn and disfigured from the writhings in the coffin, and a blood-vessel must have burst at last to relieve her from her agony, for the blood lay yet warm on the hands as she lifted the cover. But more horrible than all were the fixed glassy eyes of the corpse, staring immovably upon her, from which clear tears were yet flowing, and blending with the blood upon the cheek; and, as if the priest above had known what was passing beneath, he exclaimed—

"Oh, let us moisten our couch with tears; let tears be our meat day and night. They are noble tears that do not fall to earth, but ascend up to God's throne. Yea, the Lord gathers them in His vials, like costly wine. They are noble tears, for if they fill the eyes of God's chosen in this life, yet, in that other world, the Lord Jesus will wipe away tears from off all faces, as the dew is dried by the morning sun. Oh, wondrous beauty of those eyes which are dried by the Lord Jesus! Oh, blessed eyes! Oh, sun-clear eyes! Oh, joyful and ever-smiling eyes!"

She heard no more, but felt the eyes of the corpse were upon her, and fell down like one dead beside the coffin; and Clara's eyes and the sermon never left her brain from that day, and often have they risen before her in dreams.

But the Holy Spirit had yet a greater torment in store for her, if that were possible.

For, after the sermon, a consistorium was held in the church upon a grievous sinner named Trina Wolken, who, it appeared, had many times done penance for her unchaste life, but had in no wise amended. And she heard the priest asking, "Who accuseth this woman?" To which, after a short silence, a deep, small voice responded—

"I accuse her; for I detected her in sin, and though I besought her with Christian words to turn from her evil ways, and that I would save her from public shame if she would so turn, yet she gave herself up wholly to the devil, and out of revenge bewitched my best sheep, so that it died the very day after it had brought forth a lamb. Alas! what will become of the poor lamb? And it was such a beautiful little lamb!"

When Marcus Bork heard this, he began to sob aloud; and each word seemed to run like a sharp dagger through Sidonia's heart, so that she bitterly repented her evil deeds. And all the congregation broke out into loud weeping, and even the priest continued, in a broken voice, to ask the sinner what she had to say to this terrible accusation.

Upon which a woman's voice was heard swearing that all was a malignant lie, for her accuser was a shameless liar and open sinner, who wished to ruin her because she had refused his son.

Then the priest commanded the witnesses to be called, not only to prove the unchastity, but also the witchcraft. And after this, she was asked if she could make good the loss of the sheep? No; she had no money. And the people testified also that the harlot had nothing but her shame. Thereupon the priest rose up, and said—

"That she had long been notorious in the Christian communion for her wicked life, and that all her penance and repentance having proved but falsehood and deceit, he was commissioned by the honourable consistorium to pronounce upon her the solemn curse and sentence of excommunication. For she had this day been convicted of strange and terrible crimes, on the testimony of competent witnesses. Therefore he called upon the whole Christian congregation to stand up and listen to the words of the anathema, by which he gave over Trina Wolken to the devil, in the name of the Almighty God."

And as he spoke the curse, it fell word by word upon the head of
Sidonia, as if he were indeed pronouncing it over herself—

"Dear Christian Friends,—Because Trina Wolken hath broken her baptismal vows, and given herself over to the devil, to work all uncleanness with greediness; and though divers times admonished to repentance by the Church, yet hath stiffened her neck in corruption, and hardened her heart in unrighteousness, therefore we herewith place the said Trina Wolken under the ban of the excommunication. Henceforth she is a thing accursed—cast off from the communion of the Church, and participation in the holy sacraments. Henceforth she is given up to Satan for this life and the next, unless the blessed Saviour reach forth His hand to her as He did to the sinking Peter, for all things are possible with God. And this we do by the power of the keys granted by Christ to His Church, to bind and loose on earth as in heaven, in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

And now Sidonia heard distinctly the screams of the wretched sinner, as she was hunted out of the church, and all the congregation followed soon after, and then all was still above.

Now, indeed, terror took such hold of her that she trembled like an aspen leaf, and the lid fell many times from her hand with great clatter on the ground, as she tried to replace it on the coffin. For she had closed her eyes, for fear of meeting the ghastly stare of the corpse again. At last she got it up, and the corpse was covered; but she would not stay to replace the screws, only hastened out of the vault, closing the little grated door after her, reached the church door, which had no lock, but only a latch, and plunged into the castle gardens to hide herself amongst the trees.

Here she remained crouched for some hours, trying to recover her self-possession; and when she found that she could weep as well as ever when it pleased her, she set off for the castle, and met her cousin Marcus with loud weeping and lamentations, entreating him to let her go that instant to Zachow. Eat and drink could she not from grief, though she had eaten nothing the whole morning. So the mournful knight, who had himself risen from the table without eating, to hasten to his little motherless lamb, asked her where she had passed the morning, for he had not seen her in the church? To which she answered, that she had sunk down almost dead on the altar-steps; and, as he seemed to doubt her, she repeated part of the sermon, and spoke of the curse pronounced upon the girl, and told how she had remained behind in the church, to weep and pray alone. Upon which he exclaimed joyfully—

"Now, I thank God that my blessed spouse counselled me to take thee home with us. Ah! I see that thou hast indeed repented of thy sins. Go thy ways, then; and, with God's help, thou shalt never want a true and faithful friend while I live."

He bid her also take all his blessed wife's wardrobe with her, amongst which was a brocaded damask with citron flowers, which she had only got a year before; item, her shoes and kerchiefs: summa, all that she had worn, he wished never to see them again. And so she went away in haste from the castle, after having given a farewell kiss to the little motherless lamb. For though the evil spirit Chim, which she carried under her mantle, whispered to her to give the little bastard a squeeze that would make him follow his mother, or to let him do so, she would not consent, but pinched him for his advice till he squalled, though Marcus certainly could not have heard him, for he was attending Sidonia to the coach; but then the good knight was so absorbed in grief that he had neither ears nor eyes for anything.