At a sign from his mistress the servant hurried out.
"But what is really the matter?" asked Schindel, pressingly: "You have no doubt been again doing in your wrath what is not right before God."
"We went," said Netz, binding his pocket-handkerchief about his bleeding arm, "to fetch the horse which Francis had promised Rasselwitz. In the house we stumbled on him and some fellows of his own stamp. From words it soon came to blows. The fray grew hot; my servant was flung into the well: still, however, we stood our ground fairly; but then came the police upon us with the whole tribe of city officers, and we were overwhelmed by numbers; Bieler was killed; Rasselwitz wounded and taken; I saw that standing out would lead to nothing but death or a dungeon, laid about me like a boar at bay, and fortunately cut my way through."
"Men, men!--how will you answer for that which you have done?" exclaimed Schindel, sorrowfully.
"What! are we to take any thing and every thing of these citizens? It may perhaps be Christian-like when one cheek is smitten to hold the other; but to strike again is human, and I do not wish to be any thing better than a man."
"The son of the worthy intendant killed!--and his murderer the son of the all-powerful Erasmus!" exclaimed Schindel--"It will be a war of the Guelphs and Ghibellines!"
"Your horse stands below," said the servant, returning: "Your lad saved himself in good time from his cold bath, and brought it hither."
"My horse waits below too," cried Tausdorf, taking up his gloves and hat: "With your permission, Herr von Netz, I will accompany you beyond the boundaries. The irritated citizens may mean evil to you if they find you yet within their jurisdiction."
"I accept your offer with thanks," replied Netz, hurrying out. Tausdorf kissed Althea's hand and said--"I thank you heartily for your friendly welcome; it seemed to me as if my dear native land greeted me with your lips, and I only grieve that our first meeting should be so brief and so unkindly interrupted; but I purpose repeating my visit, if the widow of my deceased friend will allow it."
"You will always be welcome to me," replied the beautiful widow, in embarrassment; and the hands, which had been joined seemed to grow together, while her uncle called out from the window, "Haste! haste! Netz is already mounted, and the police are coming up the streets from the market with a whole rabble of armed citizens."