The morning had been rife with important events to Biberli also.  The means of establishing a household, the conviction that it would be hard for him to remain a contented man without the idol of his heart, and the still more important one that it would not be wise to defer happiness long, because, as the death of young Prince Hartmann had shown, and Pater Benedictus made still more evident, the possibility of enjoying the pleasures of life might be over far too speedily.

He had been within an ace of losing his Katterle forever, and through no one’s guilt save that of the man on whose truth and steadfastness she so firmly relied.  After Siebenburg’s departure she had confessed with tears to him, his master, and the monk, what had befallen her, and how she had finally reached the Bindergasse and Sir Heinz Schorlin’s lodgings.

When, during the conflagration, fearing punishment, she had fled, she went first to the Dutzen pond.  Determined to end her existence, she reached the goal of her nocturnal and her life pilgrimage.  The mysterious black water with its rush-grown shore, where ducks quacked and frogs croaked in the sultry gloom, lay before her in the terrible darkness.  After she had repeated several Paternosters, the thought that she must die without receiving the last unction weighed heavily on her soul.  But this she could not help, and it seemed more terrible to stand in the stocks, like the barber’s widow, and be insulted, spit upon by the people, than to endure the flames of purgatory, where so many others—­ probably among them Biberli, who had brought her to this pass—­would be tortured with her.

So she laid down the bundle which—­she did not know why herself—­ she had brought with her, and took off her shoes as if she were going into the water to bathe.  Just at that moment she suddenly saw a red light glimmering on the dark surface of the water.  It could not be the reflection of the fires of purgatory, as she had thought at first.  It certainly did not proceed from the forge on the opposite shore, now closed, for its outlines rose dark and motionless against the moon.  No—­a brief glance around verified it—­the light came from the burning of the convent.  The sky was coloured a vivid scarlet in two places, but the glow was brightest towards the southeastern part of the city, where St. Klarengasse must be.  Then she was overpowered by torturing curiosity.  Must she die without knowing how much the fire had injured the newly built convent, on whose site she had enjoyed the springtime of love, and how the good Sisters fared?  It seemed impossible, and her greatest fault for the first time proved a blessing.  It drew her back from the Dutzen pond to the city.

On reaching the Marienthurm she learned that only a barn and a cow stable had b@en destroyed by the flames.  For this trivial loss she had suffered intense anxiety and been faithless to her resolution to seek death, which ends all fears.