"Follow! After him! to the sanctuary!" still cried a thousand voices of the crowd. At the same moment a noise of horsemen was heard coming from the entrance of the town in the opposite direction to that leading to the bridge. Those who stood nearest turned their heads eagerly that way. The first person who issued on the street, at full gallop, was Gottlob, without a covering to his head--his fair hair streaming to the wind--his handsome face pale with fatigue and excitement. "Stop! stop!" he shouted as he advanced, and his eye fell upon the burning pile. "I bring the prince's pardon! Save her!" In a few moments, followed by a scanty train of attendants, appeared the Prince Bishop of Fulda himself, in the dress--half religious, half secular--that he wore in travelling. His mild benevolent face looked haggard and anxious, and he also was very pale; for he had evidently ridden hard through a part of the night; and the exertion was too much for his years and habits. As he advanced through the crowd, who drew back with respect from the passage of their sovereign, he eagerly demanded if the execution had taken place. The general rumour told him confusedly the tale of the events that had just occurred. Gottlob was soon again by his side, and related to him all that he had heard. "Where is my brother?" cried the bishop. "Is he not here?" A few words told him that he had not appeared on this occasion. "I will to the palace, then," he continued. "And the poor wretched woman, which way has that maniac conveyed her?" "To the sanctuary upon the mountain-side, in the path leading to your highness's castle of Saaleck, as he was heard to cry," was the answer. "But the torrents have come down from the hills," exclaimed others, "and the inundations sweep so heavily upon the bridge, that it is impossible to pass it without the utmost danger." "Save that unhappy woman!" exclaimed the bishop in agitation. "A reward for him who saves her!" and followed by his attendants, he took the direction of the street leading to the palace.