The roseate glow on the linden had become a crimson glare, the flickering
light on the opposite walls a dazzling illumination. The wind, now
blowing from the west, bore from St. Klarengasse burning objects which
scattered sparks around them--bundles of hay caught by the flames--from
the convent barn to the Marienthurm opposite, and into the street.
Besides, the noise above and behind, before and below her, grew louder
and louder. The ringing of the bells and the blare of trumpets from the
steeples continued, and with this constant ringing, pealing, and crashing
from above, mingled the high, clear voices of the choir of nuns in the
convent, beseeching in fervent litanies the help of their patron saint.
True, the singing was often drowned by the noise from the street, for the
fire marshals and quartermasters had been informed in time, and watchmen,
soldiers in the pay of the city, men from the hospital, and the abandoned
women (required by law to help put out the fires) came in little groups,
while bailiffs and servants of the Council, barbers (who were obliged to
lend their aid, but whose surgical skill could find little employment
here), members of the Council, priests and monks arrived singly. The
street also echoed with the trampling of many steeds, for mounted
troopers in coats of mail first dashed by to aid the bailiffs in
maintaining order, then the inspector of water works, with his chief
subordinate, trotted along to St. Klarengasse on the clumsy horses placed
at their disposal by the Council in case of fire. He was followed by the
millers, with brass fire engines. While their well-fed nags drew on
sledges, with little noise, through the mire of the streets now softened
by the rain, the heavy wooden water barrels needed in the work of
extinguishing the flames, there was a loud rattling and clanking as the
carts appeared on which the men from the Public Works building were
bringing large and small ladders, hooks and levers, pails and torches,
to the scene of the conflagration.