southwest masses of grey clouds, which constantly grew denser and darker.
Heinz Schorlin did not notice it, but his follower, Biberli, called his
attention to the rising storm and entreated him to choose the nearest
road to the city. To remain outside the gate in such darkness would be
uncomfortable, nay, perhaps not without peril, but the knight merely
flung him the peevish answer, "So much the better," and, to Biberli's
surprise, turned into St. Klarengasse, which brought him by no means
nearer to his distant lodgings in the Bindergasse.

It was unfortunate to be warmly devoted to a master who had no fear, whom
he was obliged to serve as a messenger of love, and who now probably
scarcely knew himself whither this love would lead him.

But true and steadfast Biberli would really have followed Sir Heinz, not
only in a dangerous nocturnal ramble, but through all the terrors of.
hell. So he only glanced down at his long, lean legs, which would be
exposed here to the bites of the dogs, with whom he stood on especially
bad terms, raised his long robe higher, as the paths over which they must
pass were of doubtful cleanliness, and deemed it a good omen when his
foot struck against a stout stick, which his patron saint had perhaps
thrown in his way as a weapon. Its possession was somewhat soothing, it
is true, yet he did not regain the pleasant consciousness of peace in
which his soul had rejoiced a few short hours before.

He knew what to expect from the irritable mood into which recent events
appeared to have thrown his master. Heinz usually soon forgot any such
trivial disappointment, but the difficulty threatening himself and
Katterle was far worse--nay, might even assume terrible proportions.

These alarming thoughts made him sigh so deeply that Heinz turned towards