other refuge, we must surely have been overtaken before we could have reached it.”— —“Save you by entreaties?” I exclaimed, while I hastened to unclose a door conducting to my baths; “entreaties to Count Ethelbert? Instant flight is your only chance for safety! Follow me, father! Follow me, and lose not a moment!”— I hastened onwards, and conducted the trembling monks through a long subterraneous passage, unknown to all in the Castle except myself and the faithful Gertrude. The outlet was in the mountains; and here I quitted the fugitives, convinced that they would easily find their way through the intricate passes, with which the Prior Matthias was perfectly well acquainted, having frequently traversed them in his botanical pursuits. Half of the night was consumed in this employment. On my return, I found the furious Ethelbert waiting for me in my apartment, and immediately a tremendous storm of rage burst over my devoted head. Convinced that my friends were now in safety, I attempted not to conceal my share in the transaction; and when he loaded me with insults, I replied to him by reminding him of the promise which he had formerly given me, to protect the opprest Abbot in the preservation of his rights, a promise which he had so shamefully broken. Truth and justice were on my side, but power was on that of my adversary. There was no one to hear me, and judge between Count Ethelbert and myself; he was the strongest; the reward of my remonstrances was the most unworthy treatment, and my chamber became my prison. The vassals, who loved me, exclaimed against such an act of violence, as soon as they understood by means of Gertrude, how cruelly I was treated; but Ethelbert’s art soon succeeded in giving another colour to the transaction. He justified his severity by accusing me of a shameful intrigue with the banished Abbot of Cloister-Curwald. His assertions were so positive, that they soon produced the desired effect; and it was without any violent agitation, that the peasants a few days after saw me conducted away under a strong guard, no one knew whither; nothing gave me more pain in this abrupt departure than being deprived of the only comfort which was still left me, the society of my faithful Gertrude, and of my young friend, the Damsel of Mayenfield. One man alone, one of the most distinguished inhabitants of that quarter, a man who breathed the true spirit of Helvetic courage, and of love of freedom, Henric Melthal alone dared openly to blame the proceedings of my tyrant. He spread his own noble sentiments around him, and communicated his feelings to his companions with a success, which might have rescued me from my bondage, had not Count Ethelbert resolved to withdraw me from public attention without a moment’s delay.