felt as though Heaven had loaned this, its darling, to earth for but a brief space, and her brocade robe must conceal angel wings.  Should it surprise him that the pure innocence which filled her whole being was expressed also in her letter, if she summoned him, not to idle love-dalliance but to a covenant of souls, a mutual conflict for what was highest and most sacred?  Such a thing was incomprehensible to Biberli; but notwithstanding her letter—­nay, even on its account—­he longed still more ardently to lead her home to his mother and see her receive the blessing of the woman whom he so deeply honoured.

He had Eva’s letter read for the second and the third time.  But when Biberli paused, and in a few brief sentences cast fresh doubts upon the writer, Heinz angrily stopped him.  “The longing of the godly heart of a pure maiden—­mark this well—­has naught in common with that diabolical delight in secret love—­dalliance for which others yearn.  My wish to force my way to her was sinful, and it was punished severely enough, for during your rude scoffs I felt as though you had set fire to the house over my head.  But from this I perceive in what a sacred, inviolable spot her image had found a place.  True, it is denied you to follow the lofty, heavenward aspiration of a pure soul—­”

“O my lord,” interrupted the servitor with hands uplifted in defence, “who besought you not to measure this innocent daughter of a decorous household, who was scarcely beyond childhood, by the standard you applied to others?  Who entreated you to spare her fair fame?  And if you deem the stuff of which the servant is made too coarse to understand what moves so pure a soul, you do Biberli injustice, for, by my patron saint, though duty commanded me to interpose doubts and scruples between you and a passion from which could scarcely spring aught that would bring joy to your mother’s heart I, too, asked myself the question why, in these days, a devout maiden should not long to try her skill in conversion upon a valiant knight who served her.  Ever since St. Francis of Assisi appeared in Italy, barefooted monks and grey-robed nuns, who follow him, Franciscans and Sisters of St. Clare stream hither as water flows into a mill-race when the sluice-gates are opened.  With what edification we, too, listened to the old Minorite whom we picked up by the wayside, at the tavern where we usually found pleasure in nothing but drinking, gambling, shouting, and singing!  Besides, I know from my sweetheart with what exemplary devotion the lovely Eva follows St. Clare.”

“Who is now and will remain my patron saint also, old Biber,” interrupted Heinz with joyful emotion, as he laid his hand gratefully on his follower’s shoulder; then rising and beckoning to the bar-maid, added:  “The stuff of which you are made, old comrade, is inferior to no man’s.  Only now and then the pedagogue plays you a trick.  Had you uttered your real opinion in the first place, the wine would have tasted better to us both.  Let Eva try the work of conversion on me!  What, save my lady’s love, is more to me than our holy faith?  It must indeed be a delight to take the field for the Church and against her foes!” While speaking, he paid the reckoning and went out with Biberli.