a plan for the redemption of Frankfort, and Herr Goebel will receive you
without demur. He will listen patiently, and give a definite decision
regarding the feasibility of your project. And now, good sir, my way
lies to the left. I wish you success, and bid you good-night."

The stranger left Roland standing at the intersection of two streets,
one of which led to the Saalhof. They had been approaching the
Romerberg, or market-place, the center of Frankfort, when the merchant
so suddenly ended the conversation and turned aside. Roland remembered
that no Jew was allowed to set foot in the Romerberg, and now surmised
the nationality of his late companion. The youth proceeded alone through
the Romerberg, and down directly to the river, reaching the spot where
the huge Saalhof faced its flood. Roland saw that triple guards
surrounded the Emperor's Palace. The mob had been cleared away, but no
one was allowed to linger in its precincts, and the youth was gruffly
ordered to take himself elsewhere, which he promptly did, walking up the
Saalgasse, and past the Cathedral, until he came once more into the
Fahrgasse, down which he proceeded, pausing for another glance at
Goebel's house, until he came to the bridge, where he stood with arms
resting on the parapet, thoughtfully shaping in his mind what he would
say to Herr Goebel in the morning.

Along the opposite side of the river lay a compact mass of barges; ugly,
somber, black in the moonlight, silent witnesses to the ruin of
Frankfort. The young man gazed at this melancholy accumulation of
useless floating stock, and breathed the deeper when he reflected that
whoever could set these boats in motion again would prove himself,
temporarily at least, the savior of the city.

When the bells began to toll eleven, Roland roused himself, walked