from him by a dozen stout young fellows, who gave him no time to get his
famous distance for defence against numbers; and he and Farina were
marched forthwith to the chorusing body in front of Gottlieb Groschen's
house.




THE MISSIVES

Of all the inmates, Gottlieb had slept most with the day on his eyelids,
for Werner hung like a nightmare over him. Margarita lay and dreamed in
rose-colour, and if she thrilled on her pillowed silken couch like a
tense-strung harp, and fretted drowsily in little leaps and starts, it
was that a bird lay in her bosom, panting and singing through the night,
and that he was not to be stilled, but would musically utter the sweetest
secret thoughts of a love-bewitched maiden. Farina's devotion she knew
his tenderness she divined: his courage she had that day witnessed. The
young girl no sooner felt that she could love worthily, than she loved
with her whole strength. Muffed and remote came the hunting-song under
her pillow, and awoke dreamy delicate curves in her fair face, as it
thinned but did not banish her dream. Aunt Lisbeth also heard the song,
and burst out of her bed to see that the door and window were secured
against the wanton Kaiser. Despite her trials, she had taken her spell
of sleep; but being possessed of some mystic maiden belief that in cases
of apprehended peril from man, bed was a rock of refuge and fortified
defence, she crept back there, and allowed the sun to rise without her.
Gottlieb's voice could not awaken her to the household duties she loved
to perform with such a doleful visage. She heard him open his window,
and parley in angry tones with the musicians below.