The few persons in the courtyard had been detained, and perhaps everything might yet be well. Herr Ernst had instantly delivered himself up to justice, and instead of being taken to prison like a common criminal, had been conveyed in a closed sedan-chair to the watch-tower.

The pike had pierced the tailor’s shoulder, but the wound did not seem to be mortal, and Herr Ernst’s rash deed might be made good by the payment of blood-money, though, it is true, on account of the tailor’s position and means, this might be a large sum.

“My horse,” said Herr Berthold in conclusion, “was waiting for me, and brought me here as swiftly as he must carry me back again. But, you poor things! as for you, my Els, you have a firm nature, and if you insist upon refusing the invitation to our house, why, wait here to learn whether your father needs you. You, my little goddaughter Eva, are provided for. This sorrow, of course, will throw the veil over your fair head.”

The worthy man, as he spoke, laid his hand on her shoulder and looked at her with a glance which seemed to rely on her assent, but she interrupted him with the exclamation, “No, uncle! Until you have convinced yourself that no one will dare assail Eva Ortlieb’s honour, do not ask her again if she desires the protection of the convent.”

The magistrate hurriedly passed his huge handkerchief over his face; then taking Eva’s head between his hands, kissed her brow, and—turning the shrewd, twinkling eyes, which were as round as everything else about his person, towards the others, said: “Did any one suggest this, or did the ‘little saint’ have the sensible idea herself?”

When Eva, smiling, pointed to her own forehead, he exclaimed: “My respects, child. They say that what stirs up there descends from godfather to godchild, and I’ll never put goblet to my lips again if I—”

Here he stopped, and called after Els that he had not meant to hint, for she was hurrying out to get her uncle something to drink. But ere the door closed behind her he went on eagerly:

“But to you, my saintly child, I will say: your piety soars far too high for me to follow with my heavy body; yet on the ride here I, old sinner that I am, longed—no offence, sister-in-law abbess!—to warn you against the convent, for the very reason which keeps you away from your saint. We’ll find the gag to stop the mouths of these accursed slanderers forever, and then, if you want to enter the convent, they shall not say, when you take the veil, ‘Eva Ortlieb is hiding from her own shame and the tricks with which we frightened her out of the world.’ No! All Nuremberg shall join in the hosanna!”

Then taking the goblet which Els had just filled, he drained it with great satisfaction, and rushing off, called back to the sisters: “I’ll soon see you again, you brave little Es. My wife is coming to talk over the matter with you. Don’t let that worthless candle-dealer’s children leave the house till their time is up. If you wish to visit your father in the watch-tower there will be no difficulty. I’ll tell the warder. Only the drawbridge will be raised after sunset. You can provide for his bodily needs, too, Els. We cannot release him yet; the law must take its course.”

At the door he stopped again and called back into the room: “We can’t be sure. If Frau Vorkler and the tailor’s friends make an outcry and molest you, send at once to the Town Hall. I’ll keep my eyes open and give the necessary orders.”