After this, Sidonia disappeared again for a couple of years, and no man knew whither she had flown or what she did, until one morning she appeared at the convent of Marienfliess, driving a little one-horse waggon herself, and dressed no better than a fish-wife. On driving into the court, she desired to speak with the abbess, Magdalena von Petersdorf; and when she came, Sidonia ordered the cell of the deceased nun, Barbara Kleist, to be got ready for her reception, as his Highness of Stettin had presented her to a præbenda here.
So the pious old abbess believed the story, and forthwith conducted her to the cell, No. 11; but Sidonia spat out at it, said it was a pig-sty, and began to run clattering through all the cells till she reached the refectory, a large chamber where the nuns assembled for evening prayer. This, she said, was the only spot fit for her to put her nose in, and she would keep it for herself. Meanwhile, the whole sisterhood ran together to the refectory to see Sidonia; and as most of them were girls under twenty, they tittered and laughed, as young women-folk will do when they behold a hag. This angered her.
"Ha!" she exclaimed, "the flesh and the devil have not been destroyed in them yet, but I will soon give them something else to think of than their lovers."
And here, as one of them laughed louder than the rest, Sidonia gave her a blow on the mouth.
"Let that teach the peasant-girl more respect for a castle and land dowered maiden."
When the good abbess saw and heard all this, she nearly fainted with shame, and had to hold by a stool, or she would have fallen to the ground. However she gained fresh courage, when, upon asking for Sidonia's documents, she found that there were none to show. Without more ado, therefore, she bade her leave the convent; and, amidst the jeers and laughter of all the sisterhood, Sidonia was obliged to mount her one-horse cart again, or the convent porter had orders to force her out.
By this all may perceive that, in place of repenting, Sidonia had fallen still further in the mire, wherein she wallowed yet for many years, as if it were, indeed, her true and natural element, like that beetle of which Albertus Magnus speaks, that died if one covered it with rose-leaves, but came to life again when laid in dung.
Hardly had she left the convent-gate when the old abbess bade a carl get ready a carriage, and flew in it to Stettin herself, to lay the whole case before my gracious Prince, and entreat him, even on her knees, not to send such a notorious creature amongst them; for what blessing could the convent hope to obtain if they harboured such an infamous sinner? So his Grace wonders much over the daring of the harlot; for he had given her no proebenda, though she was writing to him constantly requesting one. Nor would he ever think of giving her one; for why should he send such a hell-besom to sweep the pious convent of Marienfliess? The good abbess might rise up, for as long as he lived Sidonia should never enter the convent.
And his Grace held by his word, though it cost him his life, as I shall just now relate with bitter sighs.
It happened that, A.D. 1600, there was a terribly hard winter, so that the fresh Haff [Footnote: The river Haff] was quite frozen over, and able to bear heavy beams. Now, as the ice was smooth and beautiful as a mirror, my Lord of Stettin proposed to his guests—Joachim Friedrich, Elector of Brandenburg, his brother-in-law, and old Duke Ulrich of Mecklenburg, his uncle, to go over the Haff in sleighs, and pay a visit to the princely widow and her little son.