The priest seated himself and watched his visitor with concern and curiosity. As Albrecht broke off and walked with eyes fixed upon the floor and brows knit, Father Christopher said aloud, although he was really speaking only to himself:
"How ill was it that that madman broke in upon us yesterday! I should not be in this painful uncertainty but for that unhappy chance which prevented thy confession."
"Father," the other replied, turning toward him, "it was not a chance. The man did but act a part that Herr von Zimmern taught him. It was done that I need not confess."
"What!" exclaimed the priest, springing to his feet. "Thou hast mocked at the holy sacrament! Thou wentest to the altar with a lie on thy lips; thou—"
"Wait!" Albrecht interrupted, with an air of noble authority which arrested his companion's words and even somewhat reassured him. "I have come to tell thee everything, and thou wilt see that I was innocent because I knew not what I did."
"How can that be?" Father Christopher responded. "Surely, that it is impiety to trifle with the sacraments is known to every man."
Albrecht paused in his agitated walk, and for a moment stood regarding the priest with a strange look.
"To every man, yes," at length he responded, "but not to me. I am a kobold."
The priest sprang to his feet with a cry of astonishment and horror. Like a flash came the remembrance of all the strange circumstances which attended the coming of the baron and his stay at Rittenberg. He grew pale with anger and dread.
"A kobold!" he cried. "One of the accursed, soulless race!"