"The festival begins with a fast," muttered the captain in a gloomy tone. "I am shaped like a fish, if I do not wring the head off our neglectful nun as soon as she appears."
At this moment the door opened, and the nun entered alone. Larsson exchanged a glance with his companions, suddenly approached the nun, caught her round the neck, and held her against the wall.
"Be still, like a good child, highly honoured abbess," mockingly said the captain; "if you make a sound you are lost. By right I ought to throw you out of the window and let you have a swim in the Main, to teach you punctum preciosum, that is, a precise punctuality in your attendance. But I will give you grace for this night. Tell me, you most miserable of meal bringers, what is the meaning of that fire which they are preparing on the square; who is going to be roasted there?"
"For the sake of all the saints, speak low," whispered the nun. "I am Ketchen, and have come to save you. A great danger threatens you. To-morrow the bishop is expected, and Father Hieronymus, the implacable enemy of all the Finns, has sworn to burn you alive for the glory of the saints."
"My fine little soft hand!" cried Larsson delighted. "Upon my honour, I am a fool not to recognise it at once. Well, my beautiful friend, for the glory or St. Brita I will take a kiss on the spot..."
The captain kept his word. But Ketchen freed herself, and said quickly:
"If you do not behave yourself, young man, you will afford fuel for the flames. Hurry! bind me to the bedpost, and tie a handkerchief over my mouth.
"Bind you..." replied the captain; "explain yourself."
"Make haste! the guard are drunk and asleep, but in twenty minutes they will be inspected by the pater himself. Seize their cloaks and hurry to get out. The passwords are Petrus and Paulus."
"And yourself?" said the captain.