Annette, having lighted a candle, led me up to the little chamber, and when we found ourselves alone, she cried innocently: “Oh! Kasper, Kasper! Who would have believed that you were one of the band! I can never console myself for having loved a robber!” “What! you, too, believe us guilty, Annette?” I exclaimed despairingly, dropping into a chair; “that is the last straw on the camel’s back.” “No! no! you can not be. You are too much of a gentleman, dear Kasper! And you were so brave to come back.” I explained to her that I was perishing with cold and hunger, and that that was the only consideration which led me to return. We were left to ourselves for some time; then Annette departed, lest she should arouse Madame Grédel’s suspicions. Left to myself, after having ascertained that the windows were not approached by any wall, and that the sashes were securely fastened, I thanked God that I had thus far been brought safely through the perils which surrounded me, and then going to bed, I was soon fast asleep. II I got up at about eight o’clock the next morning. It was foggy and dark. As I drew aside the hangings of the bed, I noticed that the snow was drifted on a level with the windows; the sashes were all white. I began to reflect upon the sad condition of my companions; they must have suffered with the cold, particularly old Bremer and Bertha, and the idea filled me with sorrow. As I was reflecting thus, a strange noise arose outside. It drew near the inn, and I sprang anxiously to the window to see if some new dangers were threatening. They were bringing the famous band of robbers to confront Dame Grédel Dick, who was not yet sufficiently recovered from her fright to venture out of doors. My poor comrades came down the street between a double file of police, and followed by a crowd of street urchins, who screamed and yelled like savages. It seems to me that I can still see that terrible scene: poor Bremer chained between his sons, Ludwig and Karl, Wilfred behind them, and Bertha bringing up the rear and crying piteously: “In the name of Heaven, my masters, have pity on a poor, innocent harpist! I kill? I steal? O God! can it be?” She wrung her hands distractedly. The others proceeded with bowed heads, their hair falling over their faces.