CHAPTER VIII.

The dancing-wench was locked into the cell with the rest of the
wanderers, and as I looked in through the window at the fine young
creature, squatting in a corner, I had pity on her, and for my part I
would fain have sent her forth and away never to see her more.

I could nowhere find Herdegen; I had no mind for Uncle Christian's jests;
and when, at last, I betook me to my own chamber, meseemed that some
horrible doom was in the air, from which there was no escape. And
matters were no better when Ann, who of late had been free from her bad
headache, came up to bed, to hide her increasing pain among the pillows.
So I sat dumb and thoughtful by her side, till Aunt Jacoba sent for me to
lay cold water on the arm of the little kidnapped maid. The child had
been well washed, and lay clean and fresh between the sheets, and the
swarthy dirty little changeling was now a sweet, fair-haired darling. I
tended it gladly; all the more when I thought of the joy it would bring
to its father and mother; notwithstanding the evil nightmare would not be
cast off, not even when the clatter of wine cups and Uncle Christian's
big laugh fell on my ear.

Seldom had I so keenly missed Herdegen's mirthful voice. The housekeeper
told me that he had gone on horseback into the town at about the hour of
Ave Maria. My grand-uncle had bidden him to go to him. The vagabond
knaves had already been put to the torture in my brother's presence, but
they had confessed nothing of their guilt; inasmuch, indeed, as in our
dungeon there were none other instruments of torture than the rack, the
thumbscrew, and scourges needful for the Bamberg torture, and a