hide himself for many months in the castle of Goldrain. In August
of 1810, disguised as an artisan, he reached Switzerland, Milan, and
finally Vienna, where the emperor, as a reward for his valiant deeds,
presented him with the living of Hietzing in the neighborhood of
Vienna.

Our long but necessary preamble now brings us to Peter Sigmair. He too
had a price set on his head, having acted as lieutenant in the popular
cause, and had accordingly sought a safe retreat in the mountains.
Soon, however, a friend brought him word that his old father, George
Sigmair, the Tharer-wirth of Mitter Olang, when attending to some
business in Bruneck on St. Thomas's Day, had been arrested by command
of General Broussier, with orders that he should be shot if his
son did not give himself up before three days. The son might have
comforted himself with the thought that it would be impossible for
the general to put so tyrannical a threat into execution, but the
consciousness of his father in such danger conquered all other
feelings. He immediately started for Bruneck, and gave himself up. His
father was instantly liberated, whilst he, bound in chains, was sent
to Bozen, but brought back to Bruneck at the beginning of
January, 1810, when in his cell in the castle he quietly heard his
sentence--that he should be shot before the door of his father's inn
at Mitter Olang, and that his body should then be hung on a gallows as
a solemn warning to refractory peasants. His young wife, maddened with
grief, penetrated to the presence of the French general, clasped his
knees and plead in vain for mercy. He remained perfectly impassive to
her entreaties, but granted a favor to a young priest, Franz von
Mörl, who accompanied the prisoner in his last moments--namely, that,
instead of before the window, the execution should take place at a
small wayside chapel on the confines of the village. And so Peter