The noisy wretches in the court were struck dumb, gazing upward with glances of amazement. Those assembled on the steps, turning round, saw the Professorin, standing there like a being from another world, from the boundless space of Eternity. Stepping quietly to the balustrade, she first raised and then lowered her hands as in blessing, as if calming the stormy waves. Profound silence reigned, and she spoke in tones which might be heard a great way off:
"No man can expiate his brother's sin by wrong-doing. Do not sin yourselves. Restrain yourselves, lest to-morrow you weep over to-day."
Her voice grew more powerful, as she said:—
"Conquer yourselves!"
Laying her hand on Sonnenkamp's shoulder, she said, in sonorous tones:—
"I promise you that this man, who has already done good, shall perform a deed so great as to reconcile you all to him. Do you believe me?"
"Yes, we believe the Professorin!"
"Hurrah for the Professorin! Huzza! Huzza!"
"Come along home! It's enough!"
A man carrying a drum struck up a march, when, just as the mob was about to depart, something came rattling along, helmets gleamed, the fire-engine came up, and a jet of water suddenly spurted over them all. A like shower came from the other side; for Joseph had hastened to the head-gardener's, and the hose was now used with effect. The stream from either side rose high into the air, and they all went off, grumbling, laughing, and cursing.