Full of melancholy Lydia sat down on a stone. The red glow in the West had died away. Could Laurenzano have been there already, and been disturbed by the witch, or should she wait for him? Terrified and repenting she crept into the corner in the which the old witch had crouched. She noticed that the grass was marked as if by a knife in curious streaks, and around in strange order lay some dark stones. The grass was singed. The old woman must have just extinguished her fire as Lydia came up. The meaning of the curse last spoken by the old witch was now plain to her. She had disturbed her during her incantations at the cross roads. Horrified she looked behind her at the dark fir trees to see whether the wicked woman would not finally plague her with some calamity. She would only wait a quarter of an hour longer for the Magister, then would she bound down the wood-path like a deer to reach the bridge before the shutting of the gates. But all remained still. No Paolo. Sitting thus alone and abandoned on the Holtermann, tears came to her eyes. "I have really come to what the song says:
Eh' denn ich lass' das Weinen gehn,
Will ich lieber an der Wegscheid stehn,
Will eine Feldblum werden."
She was just on the point of starting for home when she heard voices in the distance. Excitedly did she strain her ears to catch the sound of Paolo's voice. Instead she heard three or four men talking to one another loudly and coarsely. A new horror; how was she to pass by these strange men, who moreover appeared to her to be drunk? It would be best for her to lurk behind the bushes till the road was free. Hastily she chose a hiding-place. She heard the voices again but close. "She must be here, as said the old witch," said a rough fellow. "Yes, but you shall do her no harm," said a younger man. "I shall do nothing to her, but what you yourself wish to do. If she is waiting for her sweetheart, she can take us as well as any other." Lydia's blood turned icy cold. "I believe," said the third, "that old Sibylla has played us a trick. There is no one here. Stop, some one sat here, and beyond do I not see something white?" At that moment the terrified Lydia sprang down the mountain, wildly bounding down the path by which she had ascended. For a moment the three ruffians stood still in amazement, then they followed after like clumsy dogs in pursuit of the light-footed deer. The descent was only very gradual and the strength of the men exceeded the speed of the girl. The distance between the hunted maiden and the three scoundrels behind her was gradually diminishing. When Lydia reached the old beech tree, which stood on the saddle of the mountain, it was clear to her, that if she kept down hill, the three would cut her off from one side or the other. The instinct of fear bade her take an up hill path. Her pursuers had expected her to do the contrary and lost sight of her for a moment. "There, there," now cried out one, pointing upwards to where Lydia was endeavoring to reach the ruins of the Heiligenberg along the mountain ridge. The chase began anew. But in climbing the trembling maiden had a great advantage over the heavy footed drunken men. They were already about to give up the hunt, when the eldest proposed to cut off the game thus escaping, and evidently making for Heidelberg, by taking the foot path to the left. Stealthily did the three ruffians make off in that direction. Lydia looked back for a moment. She was no longer being pursued; she could draw breath. Heated and half-dead through fear and fatigue, she leant against a beech tree. Hundred lights gleamed in the town below. From the castle a lamp in the window shone in a more friendly manner than did the others. What would she not have given to have been there. She would rather have been transported to Sylvan's prison than be here in the dark, in fear, and hunted down. Quietly did she wend her way through the ruins of the old monastery, through which wondrous shapes formed by the evening mists arose, and she thought whether she could not find a shelter among the tumbled down walls. But she felt afraid of remaining in this dreadful place, around which crept the ghosts of walled-in monks. The moon now appeared from behind the Königstuhl; peacefully glinted its light through the trees, and shed pure rays on the path beneath. Her long shadow accompanied her, at times reaching far down the descent, at times reared straight against the steep declivity. As she was about to come forth from behind a small mound she heard a suppressed chuckle. She sprang to one side with a bound, and rushed once more upwards through the bushes. They were at hand those horrible men. One rose up on one side, another on the other side, whilst a third hidden behind a tree came straight at her. "Saviour, have mercy on me," cried the terrified child. The drunken scoundrel tripped over the root of a tree, and Lydia shot past him swift as an arrow. But the hunt could not last much longer; the three pressed after her with drunken confidence sure of their booty, each pushing the other out of his way to be the first to reach the beauteous prey. Klytia's last hope was to get to the ruins of the Michael's Church on the foremost brow of the hill, and conceal herself in one of the niches. She had already cleared the first wall, but the youngest of her pursuers was close at her heels. She made one spring forwards, and felt the ground give way under her feet. "The Heidenloch" the horrid thought flashed across her mind; she fell into empty space; struck the ground beneath her heavily and lost her senses. A moment afterwards the foremost of her pursuers came through the entrance. The ruins lay before him bathed in the pure moonlight, but all was still. It seemed as if the earth had swallowed up the maiden. "Holy saints," muttered he. The others now appeared, the eldest limping. "Where is she," roared the ruffianly scoundrels. "I saw her here still flying before me and when I came up she was gone." "She is somewhere crouching behind the walls," said the oldest. Cursing and with terrible threats they searched the bushes and walls. Nowhere did they find a trace. The three looked at each other suspiciously. "I believe one witch sent us in pursuit of another." The older man crossed himself. "With real beings such things do not occur," added the youngest. "Perhaps she fell into the Heidenloch, in which case she is dead," said the third unconcernedly. "Come, I have had enough of the business, I want a sleep." And calmly, as if they had done no evil, the three blackguards went down the hill, to seek their beds.
Sweetly did the elder bush scent the air around the walls of the ruined church, the wind murmured through the tops of venerable trees, which had already given shade to the Roman soldiers, guarding the fort, and to the monks of the cloister; the crickets sang their monotonous song as they had done for thousands of years previously, brightly beamed the moon on the scattered stones, beneath however in a dark cellar, which only received light from the opening above, lay Lydia senseless. The poor child was only known to exist by Him, who both hears the death rattle of the stricken deer in the thicket, and the sigh of the creature hidden from the eye of man.
CHAPTER XIII.
On the morning of the day so momentous for Lydia, Miller Werner and his boy descended from the Kreuzgrund behind Ziegelhausen along the pattering brook to the village below. The sails of his own mills and those of his neighbours clappered merrily as if for a wager. The brook glittered as morning dew and May light. Even the meadows of the fertile valley were still adorned in the midst of summer with the green of spring.
"Thou art certain," said the miller to his redheaded offspring, "that it was Erastus' daughter?"
"Quite certain, father."
"Thou didst read the note thyself?"
"I read, that she was to be on the Holtermann an hour before sundown."