She then went on to ask when the Magister was to return home, and as I told her he was expected on the morrow great trouble came upon her.

It was past midnight or ever I left her, and as it fell I slept but ill and late, insomuch that I was compelled to make good haste, and as it fell that I went to the window I saw the snow whirling in the wind, and behold, in the shed, a great wood-sleigh was being made ready, doubtless for some sick man to be carried to the convent.

I found my aunt in the hall, whither she scarce ever was carried down before noon-day; and instead of her every-day garb—­a loose morning-gown-—­she was apparelled in strange and shapeless raiment, so muffled in kerchiefs and cloaks as to seem no whit like any living woman, much less herself, insomuch that her small thin person was like nothing else than a huge, shapeless, many-coated onion.  Her little face peeped out of the veils and kerchiefs that wrapped her head, like a half-moon out of thick clouds; but her bright eyes shone kindly on me as she cried:  “Come, haste to your breakfast, lie-a-bed!  I thought to find you fitted and ready, and you are keeping the men waiting as though it were an every-day matter that we should travel together.”

“Aye, aye!  She is bent on the journey,” my uncle said with a groan, as he cast a loving glance at his frail wife and raised his folded hands to Heaven.  “Well, chaplain, miracles happen even in our days!” And his Reverence, silent as he was, this time had an answer ready, saying with hearty feeling:  “The loving heart of a brave woman has at all times been able to work miracles.”

“Amen,” said my uncle, pressing his lips on the top of his wife’s muffled head.

Howbeit I remembered our talk yesternight, and the sleigh I had seen being harnessed; indeed, the look alone which the unwonted traveller cast on me was enough to tell me what my sickly aunt purposed to do for the sake of Ann.  Then something came upon me, I know not what; with a passion all unlike that of yesterdayeve, I fell on my knees and kissed her as a child whose mother has made it a Christmas gift of what it most loves and wishes to have, while my lips were pressed to her eyes, brow, and cheeks, wherever the wrappings covered them not, and she cried out: 

“Leave me, leave me, crazy child!  You are choking me.  What great matter is it after all?  One woman will ride through the snow to Nuremberg for the sake of a chat with another, and who turns his head to look at her?  Now, foolish wench, let me be.  What a to-do for nothing at all!”

How I ate my porridge in the winking of an eye, and then sprang into the sleigh, I scarce could tell, and in truth I marked little of our departing; mine eyes were over full of tears.  Packed right close to my aunt, whereas she filled three-fourths of the seat, I flew with her over the snow; nor did we need any great following on horseback to bear us company, inasmuch as my uncle rode on in front, and the Buchenauers and Steinbachers and other highway robbers who made the roads unsafe about Nuremberg, all lived in peace with uncle Waldstromer for the sake of the shooting.