“And where is _our_ mediator, Maria?” The girl looked at him, and over her sweet face passed the gleam of a boundless confidence. “Wait for him,” she said. “He is sure to come.” A murmur ran through the rows of men. Freder bowed his head to the girl’s feet. His whole soul said: “It shall be I.” But she did not see him and she did not hear him. “Be patient, my brothers!” she said. “The way which your mediator must take is long.... There are many among you who cry, ‘Fight! Destroy!’—Do not fight, my brothers, for that makes you to sin. Believe me: One will come, who will speak for you—who will be the mediator between you, the Hands, and the man whose Brain and Will are over you all. He will give you something which is more precious than anything which anybody could give you: To be free, without sinning.” She stood up from the stone upon which she had been sitting. A movement ran through the heads turned towards her. A voice was raised. The speaker was not to be seen. It was as if they all spoke: “We shall wait, Maria. But not much longer—!” The girl was silent. With her sad eyes she seemed to be seeking the speaker among the crowd. A man who stood before her spoke up to her: “And if we fight—where will you be then?” “With you!” said the girl, opening her hands with the gesture of one sacrificing. “Have you ever found me faithless?” “Never!” said the men. “You are like gold to us. We shall do what you expect of us.” “Thank you,” said the girl, closing her eyes. With bowed head she stood there, listening to the sound of retiring feet—feet which walked in hard shoes. Only when all about her had become silent and when the last footfall had died away she sighed and opened her eyes. Then she saw a man, wearing the blue linen and the black cap and the hard shoes, kneeling at her feet. She bent down. He raised his head. She looked at him. And then she recognised him. * * * * * Behind them, in a vault that was shaped like a pointed devil’s-ear, one man’s hand seized another man’s arm. “Hush! Keep quiet!” whispered the voice, which was soundless and yet which had the effect of laughter—like the laughter of spiteful mockery. * * * * * The girl’s face was as a crystal, filled with snow. She made a movement as if for flight. But her knees would not obey her. Reeds which stand in troubled water do not tremble more than her shoulders trembled. “If you have come to betray us, son of Joh Fredersen, then you will have but little blessing from it,” she said softly, but in a clear voice. He stood up and remained standing before her. “Is that all the faith you have in me?” he asked gravely. She said nothing, but looked at him. Her eyes filled with tears.