And, in spite of old Blutrude’s screams and protestations, the treasure-chest was conveyed away in the headsman’s cart. Whilst this went on, Berthold, in rambling over the house, found Elizabeth, who had been given into the untender care of the hostess of the Thistle. The little hand-maid was delighted to meet her old friend, and they were engaged in affectionate colloquy when Blutrude, furious at the loss of her pelf, fell upon them with blows and abuse. Berthold cared little for her violence to himself, but when she attacked Elizabeth his forbearance deserted him, and, apostrophising her as a witch, he expressed a passionate hope that the day would come when he should set fire to her death-faggots. The effect of this wish is described in a singular passage:—“She shrank from me and was silent. Whether it was that my words sounded prophetically to her evil conscience, or that my boyish glance already possessed that peculiar power which has since often made strong men quake, and given noble horses the mad staggers, Blutrude reeled aside like a drunken person, allowed me to take leave of Elizabeth undisturbed, and for some time afterwards did not regain her usual vigour and malice.” This strange power, attributed to himself by the headsman, is referred to further on in the volume, when a horse shies and is seized with staggers at the mere glance of Berthold’s eye. That the gaze of the public executioner might have a strong effect upon men, in an age when he was regarded with a feeling of superstitious horror, would have nothing to surprise; nor is it astonishing that an old woman, already suspected of witchcraft, should be terrified and tongue-tied by a hint of tar-barrels from the mouth of the hangman’s son. The power of his evil eye upon horses is more difficult to explain and credit. But admitting the substance and incidents of the book before us to be extracted from _bona fide_ chronicles, and there is not wanting a certain amount of internal evidence corroborative of the editor’s assertion to that effect, such passages as this are highly curious illustrations of the superstitions of that day. In most parts of the world the evil eye has been a favourite belief. The French have their Mauvais-œil, the Germans their Schelauge, the Italians the Malocchio; and if in any of those countries mesmerism had been invented and practised two or three hundred years ago, its disciples would, in all probability, have been held endowed with the power attributed to himself by Berthold Benz.