Nor did the metallic voices above call for help in vain, for while a
roseate glow tinged the linden in front of her window and the houses on
the opposite side of the street with the hues of dawn, the crowds
thronging from the Frauenthor to St. Klarengasse grew denser and denser.

The convent was not visible from her chamber, but the acrid odor of the
smoke and the loud voices which reached her ear from that direction
proved that the fire was no trivial one. While she was seeking out the
spot from which Heinz must have looked up to her window, the Ortlieb
menservants, with some of the Montfort retainers, came out of the house
with pails and ladders.

A female figure glided into the dark street after them. A black shawl
concealed her head and the upper part of her figure, and she held a
bundle in her hand.

It must be Katterle.

Where was she going at this hour? As she was carrying the package, she
could scarcely intend to help in putting out the fire. Was she stealing
away from fear of punishment? Poor thing! Even the maid was hurled into
misfortune through her guilt.

It pierced her very heart. But while she called to Katterle to stop her,
something else, which engrossed her still more, diverted her attention--
the loud voice of Countess Cordula reached her from the street door.
With whom was she talking? Did the girl, who ventured upon so many
things which ill-beseemed a modest maiden, intend to join the men? Eva
forgot that she, too, would have hurried to the nuns had not her father