The Rector Diemer, being informed of this transaction by credible witnesses, listened coldly and remarked briefly—­

“I understand you, gentlemen.  He is dead, is he?  Very well, then; bury him.”

Elias was carried about in triumph, like another Mattathias; but, far from accepting the proffered glory, he drooped under a profound melancholy.

He lost flesh, he sighed, he groaned; his nose, already a pretty long one, seemed to gain in prominence what it lost in solidity, and often in the evening, as he was passing down the Rue des Trois Fontaines, he might be heard murmuring—­

“Kaspar Evig, forgive me; I did not mean to take your life.  Oh, unhappy Eva! what have you done?  By your thoughtless flirting you made two brave men quarrel, and now the shade of the Seigneur Kaspar pursues me everywhere, even in my sleep.  Oh, Eva! wretched Eva! why did you behave so?”

So poor Elias moaned in his misery; and he was the more to be pitied because the sons of Israel are not bloodthirsty, and they know it is written in their law, “Whosoever sheddeth man’s blood by man shall his blood be shed.”

Now one fine day in July, while I was drinking at the Faucon, in walks Elias Hirsch, just as miserable as ever, with hollow cheeks, hair hanging in disorder about his face, and downcast eyes.  He laid his hand upon my shoulder, and said—­

“Dear Christian, will you do me a pleasure?”

“Of course I will, Elias; only say what.”

“Let us go for a walk together in the country; I want to consult you about my grief.  You know many things human and divine; perhaps you can point me out a remedy for so much trouble of mind.  I can trust in you, Christian, entirely.”

As I had already had five or six pints of beer and two or three glasses of schnapps, there was nothing more to detain me, and I consented to go with him.  Besides, I felt flattered with his confidence in my wisdom.

So we came through the town, and in twenty minutes we were walking along the little violet-bordered path which winds up to the ancient ruins of Triefels.

Then, feeling alone, passing between hedges balmy with honeysuckle and musical with the song of birds, and slowly climbing up to the lofty pines which crown the Rothalp, Elias breathed more freely; he raised his eyes and cried—­

“In all your theological studies, Christian, have you met with a way in which great crimes may be expiated?  I know that you have studied this question a good deal.  Tell me.  Whatever you recommend to put to flight the avenging shade of Kaspar Evig, I will do it.”

Hirsch’s question made me thoughtful.  We walked together, with heads bowed down in thought, in deep silence.  He watched me, I could see, out of the corner of his eye, whilst I was endeavouring to collect my thoughts upon this delicate question, but at last I made answer—­