"A bad omen," muttered the count between his teeth.
Lady Regina was right; it was Father Hieronymus who at that moment rode over the drawbridge. In appearance, the father was a little insignificant man, thin and pallid, with sharp features, and deeply sunk, hollow eyes, whose quick glance fled inquiringly from one object to another. He still wore the long sword suspended from the rope round his waist. But the bald spot no longer shone on the crown of his head; wounded at that place, he wore over it a sort of skull-cap or calotte of leather, the black colour of which made a ghastly contrast with his cadaverous-looking face. Never had the dreaded Jesuit showed himself in so forbidding a form. The men-at-arms stood at attention, and all the servants in the castle hastened to receive his commands. A secret anxiety took possession of all the bystanders. It looked as if terror and death had ridden in his train through the gates of Würzburg Castle.
The monk hastily surveyed the garrison drawn up in the courtyard, and then greeted Lady Regina with a smile, which was probably intended to make him look more agreeable, but which had exactly the opposite effect.
"St. Petrus and all the saints protect you, gracious lady! The times are very awful, very bad. The Holy Virgin has allowed the vile heretics to penetrate to our very gates—on account of our sins!" he added, crossing himself devoutly.
"And Königshofen?" inquired Count Fritz, who anticipated the answer.
"The treacherous commander has capitulated."
"But did not the peasants oppose the enemy's march through the forest?"
"All scattered like chaff—on account of our sins."
"And the holy Brigitta's image?"
"The vile heretics have placed it as a scarecrow in a wheat-field. But," continued the Jesuit, his voice acquiring suddenly a commanding tone, "what is this I see, my daughter? Why are you still here, and the castle filled with women and children, while the enemy may arrive at any moment at your gates?"