The faithful soul sobbed aloud and covered her face with her hands.  Terror fell upon them all; Joanna left the viridarium in speechless dismay, and Martina exclaimed: 

“What a horrible, vile country!  Good God, they are even falling on us women.  Children, children—­give me a seat, I feel quite ill.—­In prison! that beautiful, matchless creature dragged through the streets to prison.  If the warrant is all right she must go—­she must!  Not an angel from heaven could save her.  But that she should be marched through the town, that noble and splendid creature, as if she were a common thief—­it is not to be borne.  So much as one woman can do for another at any rate shall be done, so long as I am here to stand on two feet!—­Katharina, child, do not you understand?  Why do you stand gaping at me as if I were a feathered ape?  What do your fat horses eat oats for?  What, you do not understand me yet?  Be off at once, this minute, and have the horses put in the large closed chariot in which I came here, and bring it to the door.—­Ah!  At last you see daylight; now, take to your heels and fly!”

And she clapped her hands as if she were driving hens off a garden-bed; Katharina had no alternative but to obey.

Martina then felt for her purse, and when she had found it she added confidently: 

“Thank God!  I can talk to these villains!  This is a language,” and she clinked the gold pieces, intelligible to all.  “Come, where are the rascals?”

The universal tongue had the desired effect.  The chief of the guard allowed it to persuade him to convey Paula to prison in the chariot, and to promise that she should find decent accommodation there, while he also granted old Betta the leave she insisted on with floods of tears, to share the girl’s captivity.

Paula maintained her dignity and composure under this unexpected shock.  Only when it came to taking leave of Pulcheria and Mary, who clung to her in frantic grief and begged to go with her and Betta to prison, she could not restrain her tears.

The scribe had informed her that she was charged dy Bishop Plotinus with having plotted the escape and flight of the nuns, and Joanna’s knees trembled under her when Paula whispered in her ear: 

“Beware of Katharina!  No one else could have betrayed us; if she has also revealed what Rufinus did for the sisters we must deny it, positively and unflinchingly.  Fear nothing:  they will get not a word out of me.”  Then she added aloud:  “I need not beg you to remember me lovingly; thanks to you both—­the warmest, deepest thanks for all. . . .  You, Pul. . . .”  And she clasped the mother and daughter to her bosom, while Mary, clinging to her, hid her little face in her skirts, weeping bitterly. . . .  “You, Dame Joanna, took me in, a forlorn creature, and made me happy till Fate fell on us all—­you know, ah! you know too well.—­The kindness you have shown to me show now to my little Mary.