A great wagon, loaded with barrels, moved slowly along the road leading from Torgau. When the clouds did not hide the moon, three muffled figures, sitting immovable upon the wagon, became visible.
Near the convent they left the highway. One of the men sprang down and took the horses by the bridle.
"Do you know the road, neighbor?" came a whisper from within.
"Have no fear," was the answer. "I know every path. Follow me, until we reach the water. There we will leave the wagon among the alders. You, Caspar, stay with the horses and care for them."
Caspar was Leonhard's nephew. When they reached the pond they stopped. Caspar fed and watered the horses, while the others carefully groped their way through the bushes, Koppe taking his friend's hand, to help him because of his uncertain eyesight, and because the pale rays of the moon, which flickered through the trees, threw but scant light upon their path.
"Do you see yonder garden wall?" whispered Koppe. "I will creep on it to the spot, where it meets the building. There, where the light is shining, is Katharine von Bora's cell. I am glad to see that all the other windows are dark. My supposition was correct,—the nuns are sleeping until midnight. But it is not yet ten o'clock. Let us see if all is safe. The abbess is still awake," he grumbled, when they had reached the eastern front of the convent. "The venerable ghost has no peace, and often startles the nuns by her sudden appearances. She is a strange woman, and in her dealings with me, has given me much trouble by her suspicion and avarice. In her own eyes she is a saint, whose good works are so many that they reach up into Heaven, like the tower of Babel. Therefore she has much confidence and courage, and fears nothing, save the screech-owl, whose cry so grates upon her nerves, that in the Springtime she pays a golden florin for every owl's egg that is brought her."
Tommitzsch murmured something that sounded like a succession of maledictions. Suddenly he stopped, and seized his friend by the arm.
"I am not going any further with you."
"Why not?" asked Koppe, in dismay.
Tommitzsch replied in his imperturbable manner: "You can forego my help in your kidnapping business. I can imitate the cry of the screech-owl," he explained, "as well as that of the hawk and the cat. When the time has come, I will be the bird that turns her bravery into fear. In the meantime, you do your work."