had sure knowledge. And when the old man told me so much as that, for
certain somewhat lay behind it.--And now, Margery--when I see you--when I
consider. . . ." Here, as I cast a meaning glance at the Chaplain, on
a sudden she shrieked with such a yell as pierced my bones and marrow;
and or ever I saw her, her weak, lean hand had clutched my wrist, and she
cried in a hoarse voice:

"Then you, you have hid somewhat from me! The look wherewith you warned
the Chaplain, oh! I marked it well.--And you hesitate--and now--you--
Margery--Margery! By Christ's wounds I ask you, Margery. What is it?--
What of Gotz? Has he.... out with it--out with the truth.... Has he
written?--No.--You shake your head.... Merciful Virgin! He--he--Gotz is
on his way Home wards." And she clapped her hands over her face. I fell
on my knees by her side, dragged first her left hand and then her right
hand away from her eyes, covered them with kisses, and whispered to her:
"Yes, yes, Aunt, Mother, sweet, dear little mother! Only wait--You shall
hear all. Gotz is weary of wandering; he had not forgotten his father
and mother, nor me, his little Red-riding-hood--I know it, I am sure of
it. Patience! only a little patience and he will be here--in Germany, in
Franconia, in Nuremberg, in the forest, in the house, in this hall, here,
here where I am kneeling, at your feet, in your arms!"

Then the deeply-moved dame, who had listened to me breathless, flung her
hands high in the air as if she were seeking somewhat, and it was as
though her eyes turned inside out; and I was seized with sudden terror,
inasmuch as I deemed that she had drunk death out of the overfull cup of
joy that my hand had put to her lips. Howbeit, it was but a brief swoon
which had come upon her, and as soon as she had come to herself again and
I had told her the whole truth, little by little and with due caution,
even that Gotz and I had found each other and both fervently and