He said to himself: "The Tribune will soon observe the conflagration, and the uproar in the town. He has already repeatedly subdued such riots. With his lancers he will in a few hours re-establish order." Thus presence of mind and a certain courage slowly returned to him.
By the light of the oil-lamp, he now looked around him in the cellar-like vault.
He stumbled against a chest. A strange curiosity, mixed with dread, impelled him irresistibly to open it; perhaps here the sly old fellow hid the treasures of his church! He lifted up the lid; the chest contained nothing but papyrus rolls and parchments; spread over them was a white, priestly garment with a hood, exactly like that which Johannes had worn.
An idea struck the fugitive. He hastily drew the wide robe over his own garments.
"I shall not stay long in this place, and I am now safely disguised--better than in armour."
After a time, as all remained still, he became uncomfortable in the damp air of the vault; he carefully half-raised the slab, mounted the ladder and looked into the empty church.
His eye fell on the glittering gold pieces, which shone in the light of the altar-lamp.
A few had been picked up by his pursuers, but they thirsted more for blood than gold. Already the miser repented having promised the priest so much.
"He, moreover, rejected the gold; so I am no longer bound to give it. And these scattered pieces--they shall not fall to the scoundrels."
He now lifted the slab quite up, and listened again anxiously. All was silent.