And then, Inquisition and the rack were two ideas which could scarcely be separated from one another.  What might not be extorted from the accused by the torture!  In any case, the almoner’s suspicion would obtain fresh nourishment, and her lover had told her more than once—­what a special dislike he felt for women who, with their slender intelligence, undertook to set themselves above the eternal truths of the Holy Church.  And the jealousy which, fool that she was, she had desired to arouse in her lover, what abundant nourishment it would derive from the events which had occurred on her return from the festival!

But even these grave fears were overshadowed by the thought of Dr. Hiltner’s wife and daughter.  With what fair-mindedness the former in the Convivium had made her cause her own, how touching had been Martina’s effort to approach her, and how ill that very day she had requited their loyal affection!  Erasmus was as dear as a beloved son to these good women, and Frau Lerch’s reproach that her intercession for him was but lukewarm had not been wholly groundless.  The next day these friends who, notwithstanding the difference in their religious belief, had treated her more kindly than any one in Ratisbon, would hear this and condemn her.  That should not be!  She would not suffer them to think of her as she did of the shameless old woman whose footsteps she still heard over her head.

She must not remain idly here, and what her impetuous nature so passionately demanded must be carried into execution, though reason and the loud uproar of the raging storm opposed it.

Fran Lerch had just finished arranging her hair and handed her her night-coif, when she started up and, with the obstinate positiveness characteristic of her, declared that she was going at once to the Hiltners to inform the syndic of what had happened here.  Erasmus was still in the hands of the town guards, and perhaps it would be possible for the former to withdraw the prisoner from ecclesiastical jurisdiction.

Frau Lerch clasped her hands in horror, exclaiming:  “Holy Virgin, child!  Have you gone crazy?  Go out in this weather?  Whoever is not killed by lightning will drown in the puddles.”

But with that violent peal of thunder the storm had reached its height, and when the next flash of lightning came the thunder did not follow until some time after, though the rain continued to beat as heavily against the panes.  Yet even had the tempest continued to rage with full fury, Barbara would not have been dissuaded from the resolution which she had once formed.

True, her attempt to persuade Frau Lerch to accompany her remained futile.  Her frail body, the dressmaker protested, was not able to undertake such a walk through the storm.  If she yielded, it would be her death.  It would kill Barbara, also, and this crazy venture would be too dearly paid for at the cost of two human lives.