who loved him better than anything in the world, to estrange it from him
and win it to herself.

Kuni paid little heed to these offensive words; she knew that she had
gained the child's love by very different means from the "black art."
With far more reason, she dimly felt, the sick child might have been
reproached for exerting a secret spell upon her. Her name, "Julie,"
which she owed to her patron saint, Kuni supposed was the same as
"Juliane." Besides, the daughter of the vagabond with the mutilated
tongue was born a few days after the death of little Fraulein Peutinger,
and this circumstance, when Kuni knew it, seemed significant. Soon after
meeting the vagrant pair she had listened to a conversation between two
travelling scholars, and learned some strange things. One believed that
the old sages were right when they taught that the soul of a dead person
continued its existence in other living creatures; for instance, the
great Pythagoras had known positively, and proved that his own had dwelt,
in former ages, in the breast of the hero Palamedes.

The ropedancer remembered this statement, questioned other Bacchantes
about these things, and heard the doctrine of the transmigration of the
soul confirmed. Hence, during many a solitary ride, while the cart
rolled slowly along, she pondered over the thought that Juliane's soul
had lived again in foolish Julie. How? Why? She did not rack her
brains on those points. What had been a fancy, slowly became a fixed
belief in the mind thus constantly dwelling upon one idea. At last she
imagined that whatever she did for Cyriax's child benefited the soul of
the little Augsburg girl, whose life had been shortened by her wicked
prayer on the rope.

Yet she had not bought the indulgence in vain. But for that, she