But she was up again soon, shook her dry, withered fist at the
porter, and cried, "Ha! thou insolent churl, I will pray thee to
death for this!"

Whereupon she went off to her room, and locked herself up there,
while the fair Ambrosia ran to the grating, and stretching out her
little hands through the bars, exclaimed, "I am yours, dear
knight; oh, take me away from this horrible hell!"

This rejoiced my young noble heartily, and he kissed the little
hands and lamented over her foot--"And was it much hurt? She must
lift it up, and show him if the wound was deep."

So she raised up the dainty foot a little bit, and then saw that
her whole shoe was full of blood; but the old porter, who came by
just then, comforted the handsome youth, and told him he would
stop the blood directly, for the wound was but a trifle. Whereupon
he laid a couple of straws over it, murmured some words, and
behold, in a moment, the blood is staunched! Then the fair novice
thanked him courteously, and prayed him to unlock the wicket, for
she would go and stay a couple of hours with the miller's wife,
while this young noble, to whom she had plighted love and troth,
returned to her father's for a carriage to bring her home. After
what had passed now, never more would she enter the cloister.

But what happened? Scarcely had the good old porter unfastened the
grating, and the young knight taken the fair girl in his arms,
kissing her and pressing her to his heart (well Sidonia did not
see him), when Matthias screamed out, "My God, what ails me?" and