Finally he ordered his men, to loose the smith’s bonds, and instantly guide him to the frontier with the woman and child.  He also spoke to Adam, but said only a few words, not cheery ones as usual, but grave and harsh in purport.

They were a command to leave the country without delay, and never return to his home again.

The Jew’s corpse was laid on a bier formed of pine, branches, and the bearers lifted it on their shoulders.  Ruth clung closely to her mother, both trembling like leaves in the wind, while he who was dearest to them on earth was borne away, but only the child could weep.

The men, whom Count Frohlinger had left behind as a guard, waited patiently with the smith for his son’s return until noon, then they urged departure, and the party moved forward.

Not a word was spoken, till the, travellers stopped before the charcoal-burner’s house.

Jorg was in the city, but his wife said that the boy had been there, and had gone back to the forest an hour before.  The tavern could accommodate a great many people, she added, and they could wait for him there.

The fugitives followed this advice, and after Adam had seen the women provided with shelter, he again sought the scene of the misfortune, and waited there for the boy until night.

Beside the stump on which his friend had died, he prayed long and earnestly, vowing to his dead preserver to live henceforth solely for his family.  Unbroken stillness surrounded him, it seemed as if he were in church, and every tree in the forest was a witness of the oath he swore.

The next morning the smith again sought the charcoal-burner, and this time found him.  Jorg laid the blame to Ulrich’s impatience, but promised to go to Marx in search of him and bring him to the smith.  The men composing the escort urged haste, so Adam went on without Ulrich towards the north-west, to the valley of the Rhine.

The charcoal-burner had lost the reward offered the informer, and could not even earn the money due a messenger.

He had lured Ulrich to the attic and locked him in there, but during his absence the boy escaped.  He was a nimble fellow, for he had risked the leap from the window, and then swung himself over the fence into the road.

Jorg’s conjecture did not deceive him, for as soon as Ulrich perceived that he had been betrayed into a trap, he had leaped into the open air.

He must warn his friends, and anxiety for them winged his feet.

Once and again he lost his way, but at last found the right path, though he had wasted many hours, first in the village, then behind the locked door, and finally in searching for the right road.

The sun had already passed the meridian, when he at last reached the clearing.

The but was deserted; no one answered his loud, anxious shouts.

Where had they gone?

He searched the wide, snow-covered expanse for traces, and found only too many.  Here horses’ hoofs, there large and small feet had pressed the snow, yonder hounds had run, and—­Great Heaven!—­here, by the tree-stump, red blood stained the glimmering white ground.