He paused, again searching his memory, but this time in vain.
"Eckhardt," supplied the Margrave himself.
"Eckhardt—Eckhardt," the grave digger echoed, crossing himself at the sound of the dreaded name.
"Open the grave!" Eckhardt broke into Il Gobbo's babbling, who had been wondering to what purpose he had been brought here.
Il Gobbo stared up at the speaker as if he mistrusted his hearing, but made no reply.
"Open the grave!" Eckhardt repeated, leaning upon his sword.
Il Gobbo shook his head. No doubt the man was mad; else why should he prefer the strange request? He looked questioningly at Eckhardt's companion, as if expecting the latter to interfere. But he moved not. A strange fear began to creep over the grave digger.
"Here is a purse of gold, enough to dispel the qualms of your conscience," Eckhardt spoke with terrible firmness in his tones, offering Il Gobbo a leather purse of no mean size. But the latter pushed it back with abhorrence.
"I cannot—I dare not. Who are you to prefer this strange request?"
"I am Eckhardt, the general! Open the grave!"