"There is no doubt," he murmured, "it is that same ring--that Arabic ring, brought me from the East, and which I gave--oh, no!--impossible!" he hurriedly exclaimed, as a horrible thought seemed to cross him. "She has been dead many years since. Did not my own brother assure me of her death? It cannot be!" After a moment's pause to recover from his agitation, he gave orders to one of the guards to remove the hood from Magdalena's head, that he might see her features. With the crooked end of a pike's head, one of them tore back her hood; while another, with the staff of his pike, forced her hands asunder. Magdalena's careworn and prematurely withered face was exposed to the gaze of all, distorted with emotion. "Less rudely, varlets!" cried the Ober-Amtmann, with a feeling of sudden forbearance towards the wretched woman which surprised all present; for they could not but marvel at the slightest symptom of consideration toward such an abhorred outcast of humanity as a convicted witch; and as such the miserable Magdalena was already regarded. For a moment the Ober-Amtmann considered Magdalena's careworn, withered, and agitated face with painful attention; and then, as if relieved from some terrible apprehension, he heaved a bitter sigh, and murmured to himself--"No, no, there is no trace of that once well-known face. I knew it could not be. She is no more. It was a wild and foolish thought! but this ring--'tis strange! Woman, dost thou know me?" he asked aloud, with some remaining agitation. "I know you not," replied Magdalena with a low and choked voice; for she now trembled violently, and the tears gushed from her eyes. "How camest thou then by this ring? Speak! I command thee," continued the Ober-Amtmann. Magdalena bowed her head with a gesture of refusal to answer any further question. "Wretched woman! Hast thou violated the repose of the dead? Hast thou torn it from the grave? How else came it in thy possession?" The unhappy woman replied not. She had again covered her face with her hands, and the tears streamed through her meagre fingers. "Speak, I tell thee! This ring has conjured up such recollections, that were there but one human link between thee and one who has long since rested from all sorrow in the grave, it might ensure thy safety." No answer was returned by Magdalena; although, to judge by the convulsed movement of her body, the struggle within must have been bitter and heavy to bear. "Die then in thy obstinacy, miserable woman," cried the Ober-Amtmann in a suppressed voice--"Let justice take its course!" "Denouncer!" said the chief _schreiber_ to the witchfinder, "hast thou further evidence to offer?" "Needs it more to convict a criminal of the foul and infernal practices of witchcraft?" cried Black Claus with bitterness.