This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of thefile for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making anentire meal of them. D.W.]
By Georg Ebers
The Minorite had gone. Biberli had noticed with delight that his masterhad not sought as usual to detain him. The iron now seemed to him hot,and he thought it would be worth while to swing the hammer.
The danger in which Heinz stood of being drawn into the monastery madehim deeply anxious, and he had already ventured several times to opposehis design. Life was teaching him to welcome a small evil when it barredthe way to a greater one, and his master's marriage, even with a girl offar lower station than Eva Ortlieb, would have been sure of his favour,if only it would have deterred him from the purpose of leaving the worldto which he belonged.
"True," the servitor began, "in such heat it is easier to walk in thethin cowl than in armour. The holy Father is right there. But when itis necessary to be nimble, the knight has his dancing dress also. Oh, mylord, what a sight it was when you were waltzing with the lovely JungfrauEva! Look at Heinz Schorlin, the brave hero of Marchfield, and the girlwith the angel face who is with him!' said those around me, as I wasgazing down from the balcony. And just think—I can't help speaking ofit again—that now respectable people dare to point their fingers at thesisters and join in the base calumny uttered by a scoundrel!"
Then Heinz fulfilled Biberli's secret longing to be questioned about the
Es and the charges against them, and he forged the iron.
Not from thirst, he said, but to ascertain what fruit had grown from thehellish seeds sown by Siebenburg, and probably the still worse ones ofthe Eysvogel women, he went from tavern to tavern, and there he heardthings which made him clench his fists, and, at the Red Ox, roused him tosuch violent protest that he went out of the tap-room faster than heentered it.
Thereupon, without departing far from the truth, he related what was saidabout the beautiful Es in Nuremberg.
It was everywhere positively asserted that a knight belonging to theEmperor's train had been caught at the Ortlieb mansion, either in anocturnal interview or while climbing into the window. Both sisters weresaid to be guilty. But the sharpest arrows were aimed at Els, thebetrothed bride of the son of a patrician family, whom many a girl wouldhave been glad to wed. That she preferred the foreigner, whether aBohemian, a Swabian, or even a Swiss, made her error doubly shameful inthe eyes of most persons.
Whenever Biberli had investigated the source of these evil tales, he hadinvariably found it to be Seitz Siebenburg, his retainers, the Eysvogelbutler, or some man or maidservant in their employ.
The Vorchtels, who, as he knew from Katterle, would have had the mostreason to cherish resentment against the Ortliebs, had no share in theseslanders.
The shrewd fellow had discovered the truth, for after Seitz Siebenburghad wandered about in the open air during the storm, he again tried tosee his wife. But the effort was vain. Neither entreaties nor threatswould induce her to open the door. Meanwhile it had grown late and, halffrantic with rage, he went to the Duke of Pomerania's quarters in theGreen Shield to tr