Meantime Sidonia had heard of her father's horrible death, and lay on the ground nearly insensible from grief. Just then the burgomaster returned from the council-hall, and commanded that she and his profligate son should be brought before him. When they arrived, he asked how it happened that they were both found in the vessel, for Ulrich, the Grand Chamberlain, had written to inform him that Sidonia had been sent away in a coach to Stettin, with the executioner on the box.
Here Sidonia sobbed so violently that no word could she utter; therefore the son replied that such had been done, but that he had been given a horse from the ducal stables, and had followed the coach; and when they stopped at Uckermund for the night, he had secretly got speech with Sidonia, and advised her to try and remove the planks from the bottom of the carriage and escape to him, for that he would be quite close at hand. And he did what he could that night to loosen the boards himself. So in the morning Sidonia got them up easily, and first dropped her baggage out through the hole, which he picked up; and then, as they came to a soft, sandy tract where the coach had to go very slowly, she let herself also down through it, and sinking in the deep sand, let the coach go over her without any hurt. Then he came to her, and they fled to the next town, where he bought a waggon from some peasants, for her and her luggage to proceed into Stargard, for she was ashamed to appear before Duke Barnim, and wished to get on from Stargard to Stramehl; but when they reached Damm, they heard such wild tales of the robbers and partisans who infested the roads, that Sidonia grew alarmed, and made him go by water for safety. So he left the horse and waggon at the inn, and took ship with the merchants who were going to Stargard. These were their adventures. The rest his father knew as well as himself.
The burgomaster then asked Sidonia had he spoken truth. So she dried her eyes, and nodded her head for "Yes."
Then he admonished her gravely, for that she, a noble maiden, could have dishonoured herself with a mere burgher's son, like his Johann, in whom even he, his own father, must say, there was nothing to tempt any girl. And now she knew the truth of those words of St. James: "Lust, when it hath conceived, bringeth forth sin; and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death."
Her sin had, indeed, brought forth her father's death;—would that he could say only his temporal death. This her father had himself asserted in his testament, which he held now in his hands, and for this cause had left all his goods, lands, and castles to her brother Otto—only giving her two farm-houses in Zachow to save her from the beggar's staff, and their noble name from falling into yet greater contempt—and, in addition, he had cursed her with terrible curses; but these might be yet turned away, if she would incline her heart to God, and lead a pious, honest life for the rest of her days. And much more the worthy man preached to her; but she interrupted him, having found her tongue at last, and exclaimed in wrath, "What! has the good-for-nothing old churl written this? Let me see it; it cannot be true."
So the burgomaster reached her the paper, and, as she read, her colour changed, and at last she shrieked aloud and fell down before the burgomaster, clasping his knees, and praying by the Jesu cross not to send such a testament to her brother, for that he was still harder than her father, because he was by nature avaricious, and would grudge her even salt with her bread. Let him remember that his son had promised her marriage, and would he destroy his own children?
Then Jacob Appelmann turned to his profligate son, and asked,
"Does she speak the truth? Have you promised her marriage?"
But the shameless knave answered, "True, I so promised her, when we were at Uckermund; but now that she has no money, I wash my hands of her."
Such villainy made the old man flame with indignation. "He would make him know that he must stand by his word—he would force him to it, if he could only think it would be for the advantage of this wretched girl. But he would admonish her to give him up; did she not see that he was shameless, cruel, and selfish? and how could she ever hope to turn to God and lead a new life with such an infamous partner? Item, his son should be made to work, and to feel poverty, so that his evil desires might be stifled; and as for her, let her go in God's name to Zachow, and there in solitude repent her sins, and strive to win the favour of God."
But that was no water for her mill; so she continued to lament, and weep, and pray the burgomaster not to send the will to her harsh brother; upon which he answered mildly, "Wert thou to lie at my feet till morning, it would not help thee: the testament goes this day to Stramehl; but I will do this for thee. Thy father left me some rose-nobles, in a purse which he carried about with him, as a compensation for my spices, which he strewed before the Jews in Stramehl, of which deed thou, too, wert also guilty, as I know; therefore I was not ashamed to take the money. But of the purse thy father said naught; so I had it in my mind to keep it—for, in truth, it is of more worth than the nobles it contained. If I mistake not, these are true pearls and diamonds with which it is broidered. Look, here it is. What sayest thou?"