two had forced her to watch their every movement, to gaze at them, and
them only, as if the world contained nothing else. How often she had
repeated to herself that in that hour she was bewitched, whether by him
or by her she could not decide. As the throng surged forward, she had
been crowded against the woman who lost the rosary. She had not had the
faintest thought of it when the bailiff suddenly snatched her from her
rapturous gazing to stern reality, seizing with a rude grip the hand that
held the jewel. Then, pursued by the reviling and hissing of the
populace, she had been taken to prison.

Now she again saw herself amid the vile rabble assembled there, again
felt how eagerly she inhaled the air as she was led across the courtyard
of the townhall into the presence of the magistrates. Oh, if she could
but take such a long, deep breath of God's pure air as she did then!
But that time was past. Her poor, sunken chest would no longer permit
it. Then she fancied that she was again standing before the judges, who
were called The Five.

Four magistrates sat with the Pfander--[Chief of police]--at the table
covered with a green cloth, but one, who surpassed all the others both in
stature and in manly beauty, was the selfsame Lienhard Groland, who
yesterday had led to the altar the wonderfully lovely girl who had
bewitched her. She felt how the blood had mounted into her cheeks when
she again saw him who could know nothing of her except that she was a
jade, who had stolen another person's property. Yet her glance soon met
his, and he must have been blind had he not read in the radiant lustre of
her blue eyes, which had early learned to woo applause and promise love,
what he was to her, and how gratefully her heart throbbed for him.

After the other gentlemen had treated her harshly, and threatened to put