ever-burning lamp, where Katterle had just sought and found consolation,
he implored it not to let his bold intrusion into the home of the maiden
he loved bring evil upon her and her sister. He also vowed to the
convent and its saint--which, come what might, should also be his--a rich
gift whenever the Emperor or the gaming table again filled his purse.

The thought of being burdened his whole life long with the reproach of
having made two such charming, innocent creatures miserable seemed
unendurable. He would gladly have given gold and blood to remove it.

It was too late that day, but he resolved to go to the confessional on
the morrow, for absolution had always relieved and lightened his heart.
But how trivial his errors had been! True, the wrong he had now
committed was not a mortal sin, and would hardly impose a severe penance
upon him, yet it burdened him like the most infamous crime. He did not
understand himself, and often wondered why he, reckless Heinz, thus made
a mountain out of a molehill. Yet when, after this reflection, he
uttered a sigh of relief, it seemed as if a voice within commanded him
not to think lightly of what had passed, for on that evening he had
ceased to bestow pleasure on every one, and instead of, as usual, being
helpful and agreeable, he had plunged others who had done him no wrong--
nay, perhaps a whole household, whose daughter had given him the first
love of her young heart-into misery and disgrace. Had he considered the
consequences of his act, he would still be merry Heinz. Then he
remembered how, when a boy, playing with other lads high up among the
mountains just as it was beginning to thaw, he had hurled the work they
had finished with so much toil, a snow man, down the slope, rejoicing
with his playfellows over its swift descent towards the valley, until
they noticed with what frightful speed its bulk increased as it sped over
its snowy road, till at last, like a terrible avalanche, it swept away a