"Have pity," said Praxedis, "for he is a sick man."
"For that very reason we are going to cure him. When he has been tied to the pillar for an hour or so, and half a dozen rods have been flogged to pieces on his bleeding back, then all his spleen and his devilries will vanish!"
"For God's sake!" exclaimed the terrified girl.
"Calm yourself, for that is not all. A stray lamb must be delivered up to the fold it belongs to. There, he will find good shepherds who will look after the rest. Sheep-shearing sweet mistress, sheep-shearing! Then they will cut off the hair of his head, which will make it a deal cooler; and if you feel inclined to undertake a pilgrimage to St. Gall, in a year hence, you will see on Sundays and holidays, somebody standing barefooted before the church-door, and his head will be as bare as a cornfield after harvest-time, and the penitential garb will become him very nicely. What do you think? The Heathenish goings on with Virgil are at an end now."
"He is innocent!" said Praxedis.
"Oh," said the cellarer sneeringly, "we shall never harm innocence! He need only prove himself so by God's ordeal. If he takes the ring out of the kettle of boiling water with unburnt arm, our Abbot himself will give him the blessing; and I will say that it was all a delusion of the Devil's own making, when my eyes beheld the lady Duchess, clasped in the arms of his holiness, brother Ekkehard."
Praxedis wept. "Dear, venerable Master Rudimann!" said she imploringly.
Throwing an ugly leer at the Greek maiden, he said with pinched lips: "So it will be. I might however perhaps be induced to interfere on his behalf, if ..."
"If?" asked Praxedis eagerly.
"If you would be pleased to leave your chamber-door open to-night, so that I could communicate the result of my endeavours to you."