Heribald, however, did not heed the curious horseman's warning. The woman of the wood had meanwhile got down from her cart, and approached Ellak. With a sinister grin she looked at the monk. "I have read in the stars, that by the hands of such bald-headed men, evil will befall us," cried she. "To prevent the coming danger, you ought to hang up this miserable creature before the cloister-gate, with his face turned towards yonder mountains!" "Hang him up," echoed many voices in the crowd, the pantomime of the old woman, having been understood. Ellak once more turned his head towards Erica. "This monster has also got principles," said he tauntingly. "It would save his life, and yet he refuses to bend his knees. Shall we have him hanged, flower-of-the-heath?" Heribald's life was hanging on a very slender thread. Round about, he saw nothing but stern pitiless faces; his courage began to fail him, and the tears came into his eyes; but in the hour of danger, even the most foolish are often guided by a happy instinct. Like a star, the red-cheeked face of Erica shone before him, and with frightened steps he quickly approached her. To kneel before her, was not such a difficult task to him; her sweet looks inspiring him with confidence. With outstretched arms he implored her assistance. "There!" cried the flower-of-the-heath, "the man of the island is by no means so foolish as he looks. He prefers kneeling to Erica, instead of the green and red flag." She smiled graciously on the pitiful suppliant, and jumping from the saddle, she patted him as if he were some half wild animal. "Don't be afraid," said she, "thou shalt live, poor old black-coat!" and Heribald could read in her eyes, that she meant what she said. He pointed to the woman of the wood, who had frightened him most. Erica shook her head; "she shall not harm thee." Then Heribald briskly ran to the wall, near which lilacs and spring-roses were already blooming, and hastily tearing off some of their branches, he presented them to the Hunnic maiden. A loud shout of delight rang through the cloister-yard. "Hail to the flower-of-the-heath," cried they all, clashing their arms together. "Why don't you shout likewise," whispered the man from Ellwangen into Heribald's ear. So he also raised his voice to a hoarse "hurrah!" with tears glistening in his eyes.