The schoolmaster went on tiptoe to the window and looked out. "I cannot tell what is the matter," he said. "An excited crowd is rushing to and fro in the street, but I cannot see who they are or what it is all about."

"The people have not recovered from the event of this morning," said Johannes.

Meanwhile the noise drew near. Various abusive words were heard, and it seemed as if stones were thrown and fell upon the pavement. Shrill female voices cried quite distinctly, "Not in here!" "Go away!" "Put her out!" Boys shouted and whistled through it all.

"Good heavens!" cried the schoolmaster, "they are persecuting a lady!

Oh, yes! Herr Professor, look! she is trying to escape into the houses!

The women thrust her out and shut their doors upon her----"

"Brutes!" exclaimed Johannes, beside himself with rage, for one glance from the window had shown him how matters stood.

"Holy Maria! they are throwing stones and apples at her!" cried Frau Keller.

Johannes had rushed from the room as the schoolmaster turned towards him with the words, "It is Fraulein von Hartwich!"

But, just as Johannes reached the stairs, Keller burst in, pale and agitated, and locked the door after him.

"What do you mean?" cried Johannes. "Do you wish to shut me in here?"

"Ah, sir!" implored Keller, blocking up the pa.s.sage, "do not open it,--the Hartwich wants to come in----"

"Well, then, let her in instantly! why do you delay?"

"For G.o.d's sake, keep her out!" said Keller.

"Are you mad," cried Johannes, "that you would close your doors upon a fellow-being imploring protection? Open the door, or I will force the lock."

"Sir, sir, my house is my own, if I am only a poor peasant!" cried Keller still blocking the entrance. "This is the abode of honest labour, and no accursed foot shall cross its threshold."

The uproar without seemed stationary before the house. A shower of stones against the door showed that the persecuted woman had fled hither. Johannes was no longer master of himself. His blood boiled in his veins, his heart throbbed to bursting. With the strength of a giant he seized the burly peasant by his broad shoulders and hurled him aside--almost into the arms of the schoolmaster, who was coming to the rescue also. Then he tore open the door, and Ernestine fell half fainting at his feet. He caught her in his arms, and, as he stood thus shielding her, cried, in a tone that left no doubt in the minds of his hearers as to the truth of his words, "I'll knock down the first man who dares to come near this lady."

A dull murmur arose. "Let him try to stop us," cried several, and clenched fists were shaken at him.

"Yes, I will try it,--but the man who dares me to try it will repent the trial!" threatened Johannes. And so commanding were his words and bearing that no one ventured further than to throw a stone or two, accompanying them with abusive epithets. Johannes drew Ernestine more closely to his side. "Shame on you, cowards that you are!" He turned to Keller. "Will you still refuse a shelter to this lady?--you see that she can scarcely stand."

Keller looked at his wife, who had run out to them. "Do not let her in!" she cried. "For G.o.d's sake, keep her out! has she not done us harm enough?"

Keller looked at Johannes and shrugged his shoulders. "You see my wife will not allow it."

Johannes stamped his foot in despair.

"Are you human?"

"We hope so, sir," said Keller, insolently thrusting his hands in his pockets.

"And far better than the friends of that woman there," shouted the mob, and a small stone flew close past Johannes.

"If I were as crazy as you are," cried he, "I should throw down upon you the stones that you have thrown at me here, and my aim would be better than yours. But I will not contend with drunken men or do battle with people who are not responsible for their actions; all I ask of you is to give way and allow me to take this lady to her home."

The crowd maintained its place in a compact ma.s.s, and only replied by unintelligible words, from which, however, Johannes gathered that Ernestine's punishment was not yet considered sufficient, and that she was not to be allowed to escape so easily.

"I will pay you whatever you ask, if you will only afford Fraulein von Hartwich shelter until I have quieted this tumult," said Johannes to Keller.

"You'll get nothing out of me, sir! Neither money nor fine words will get her across my threshold."

"Mother, let her come in," suddenly cried a voice that had a wonderful effect upon the mob. Kathchen had slipped from her bed unperceived, and in her distress had run out to her mother. She threw her uninjured arm around Ernestine's knees, and looked up at her weeping. "They shall not hurt you; I love you so dearly!"

"Jesus Maria!" shrieked Frau Keller. "My child! my child!" She tore the little girl away from Ernestine, and, followed by her husband, carried her into the house.

"Do you want to kill yourself?" cried the father in despair.

"No! I want the lady, I want the lady," the child was still heard wailing from the room.

A commotion now began, which threatened to be serious indeed. "There, now, you see it with your own eyes,--the sick child even crawls out of bed to her. Don't you see now that she is bewitched? The Hartwich must leave the place this very day, or we'll hunt her out of the village."

"Men! men! for G.o.d's sake, what are you doing?" said a gentle voice behind Johannes.

"Oho, the schoolmaster!" was now the cry. "Let him come down,--we've had our eyes upon him for a long time. Come down, schoolmaster, you shall be ducked for your friendship for the witch." And again the human flood overflowed the lower step of the stairs at the head of which Johannes was standing.

"Back!" commanded Johannes, resigning Ernestine to the schoolmaster, "back! now you see my arms are free."

Involuntarily the foremost recoiled at sight of his menacing att.i.tude.

"Deluded people," cried Johannes, beside himself with indignation, "is there nothing sacred from your frantic rage,--neither a defenceless girl nor the gray head of your teacher? What has he done, except spend his life in the thankless endeavour to make reasonable human beings of you?"

"He is friends with the Hartwich,--it is his fault that she kissed the child. His house ought to be burned over his head!"

"Yes, yes!" roared the mob, "their holes should be burned out and destroyed--his and hers. Blasphemers! Unbelievers! They shall yet learn to believe in G.o.d."

"This is too much!" thundered Johannes. "Would you prove your religion by becoming incendiaries? Woe upon you if you lay a finger upon what belongs to either of these people! Do you know the penalty for arson?

And, depend upon it, I will see to it that you do not escape."

A shout of rage arose at these words.

"Herr Professor," said Leonhardt imploringly, "do not aggravate these people further,--we cannot convince them. Children," he called down to them, and his voice trembled with pain, not with fear,--"children, I have grown old among you; I know you better than you know yourselves.

You are too wise to do anything that would subject you to the penalty of the law, and too kind to commit an outrage upon people who have never harmed you. You do not believe that I am an unbeliever. Have I not educated your children to be useful, G.o.d-fearing men and women?

Have I not stood your friend in every time of trouble? The little house, that you in your blind fury would destroy, has afforded many of you a peaceful shelter,--it is a sacred spot to your children, and could you lay a finger upon it? Go to the church-yard and see if there is a single grave there of your loved ones that has not been adorned by flowers from my garden, and would you bury it beneath the ruins of my dwelling? No, do not try to seem worse than you are." He placed Ernestine gently down upon the landing and stood in front of her. "You know that your old master loves all G.o.d's creatures, and would you condemn him for taking compa.s.sion upon the unhappy maiden whom no one pities, whom all hate? Do you call me G.o.dless because I hoped to lead this erring but n.o.ble nature to find her G.o.d again? Yes, take up your stones,--look! I will take off my cap and expose my white head to your aim. Where is the hand that will lift itself against it?"

The old man stood with uncovered head, holding his cap in his clasped hands. The evening breeze played amid his silver locks, and the stones that had been picked up were gently dropped again.

Then his arm was drawn down by his side and a kiss was imprinted upon his withered hand. It was Ernestine. Johannes saw the act, and his eyes were moist She could be grateful. He exchanged a happy glance with the old man to whom she had just paid such a tribute.

"He is only a weak old man," muttered the people,--"let him alone. He means well."

"I will go and bring their pastors," said Leonhardt softly to Johannes, and he descended the steps. He walked quietly through the midst of the crowd, that opened before him, but closed up again when he had pa.s.sed through.

"Come," said Johannes, raising Ernestine from the ground, "let us try to put an end to this wretched scene." He carried rather than led her down the steps. "Make way there!" he called in a commanding tone.