There was a great uproar at this, and a boisterous consent.

"This day week, then," said Roland, as he strapped sword to side, threw
cloak over shoulders, so that it completely concealed the forbidden
weapon, waved a hand to his cheering comrades, and went out into the
night.

Once ascended the cellar steps, the young man stood in the narrow street
as though hesitating what to do. Faintly there came to him the sound of
singing from the cellar he had quitted, and he smiled slightly as he
listened to the rousing chorus he knew so well. From the direction of
the Palace a more sinister echo floated on the night air; the
unmistakable howl of anger, pain, and terror; the noise that a pursued
and stricken mob makes when driven by soldiers. The populace had
evidently been engaged in its futile and dangerous task of
demonstrating, and proclaiming its hunger, and the authorities were
scattering it; keeping it ever on the move.

It was still early; not yet ten o'clock, and a full moon shone over the
city, unlighted otherwise. Drawing his cloak closer about him, Roland
walked rapidly in an opposite direction to that from which the tumult of
the rabble came, until he arrived at the wide Fahrgasse, a street
running north and south, its southern end terminating at the old bridge.
Along this thoroughfare lived the wealthiest merchants of Frankfort.

Roland turned, and proceeded slowly towards the river, critically
examining the tall, picturesque buildings on either hand, cogitating the
question which of them would best answer his purpose. They all seemed
uninviting enough, for their windows were dark, most of them tightly