“You need hear only this one thing more:  the wretch said that he thanked his patron saint that they had discovered the jade’s tricks in time.  And this, child, was the real belief of the whole contemptible crew!  But now that the water is up to their necks, and they need my helping hand to save them from drowning-now they will graciously take Ernst Ortlieb’s daughter if he will give them his property into the bargain, that they may destroy both fortune and child.  No—­a thousand times no!  It is not seemly, at this hour, to yield to the spirit of hate; but she who is lying in her last sleep above would not have counselled me by a single word to such suicidal folly.  I did not learn the worst until I went to the Council, or I would have turned the importunate fellow from the door this morning.  Tell the old man so, and add that Ernst Ortlieb will have nothing more to do with him.”

Here the deeply incensed father pointed to the door.

Els had listened with eyes dilating in horror.  The result surpassed her worst fears.

She had felt so secure in her innocence, and the countess had interceded for her so cleverly that, absorbed by anxieties concerning Eva, Cordula, and her mother, she had already half forgotten the disagreeable incident.

Yet, now that her fair name was dragged through the mire, she could scarcely be angry with those who pointed the finger of scorn at her; for faithlessness to a betrothed lover was an offence as great as infidelity to a husband.  Nay, her friends were more ready to condemn a girl who broke her vow than a wife who forgot her duty.

And if Wolff, in his biding-place in the citadel, should learn what was said of his Els, to whom yesterday old and young raised their hats in glad yet respectful greeting, would he not believe those who appealed to his own father?

Yet ere she had fully realised this fear, she told herself that it was her duty and her right to thrust it aside.  Wolff would not be Wolff if even for a moment he believed such a thing possible.  They ought not, could not, doubt each other.  Though all Nuremberg should listen to the base calumny and turn its back upon her, she was sure of her Wolff.  Ay, he would cherish her with twofold tenderness when he learned by whom this terrible suffering had been inflicted upon her.

Drawing a long breath, she again fixed her eyes upon her mother’s portrait.  Had she now rushed out to tell the old man who had so cruelly injured her—­oh, it would have lightened her heart!—­the wrong he had done and what she thought of him, her mother would certainly have stopped her, saying:  “Remember that he is your betrothed husband’s father.”  She would not forget it; she could not even hate the ruined man.

Any effort to change her father’s mood now—­she saw it plainly—­would be futile.  Later, when his just anger had cooled, perhaps he might be persuaded to aid the endangered house.