"The old one must always give us a rap on the knuckles," said Netz, laughing; "he can't go less; but in the main he seems to me to be right; therefore, whoever amongst you thinks the same, let him draw his sword." "Tausdorf shall be our leader!" shouted the whole band of knights, and fifty swords glittered in the air. In the same moment Netz's squire rushed in, exclaiming, "Two of the bishop's equerries have dismounted before the Guildhall; he will be here himself in a quarter of an hour." "Halloah! To horse! To horse!" cried Netz, rushing to the door with his drawn sword. The rest were about to follow him with unsheathed weapons, when Tausdorf thundered out, "Halt!" At the word the knights stood still. "Put up your swords before you mount," he said, in a tone of stern command. "Wherefore?" asked Netz, returning angrily. "You have chosen me for your leader in this business," answered Tausdorf, with all the dignity of command, "and it is your duty, therefore, to obey me; but I am not bound to account to you for every thing I may order. For this time, however, I am content to tell you my motives. Should we ride with drawn swords, the citizens and magistrates might take it for a hostile incursion, or, if they are evilly disposed, might merely pretend to do so, and oppose us with arms, in which case, when the bishop entered the city, he would find the civil war already kindled, which it was the purpose of his coming to avert. Will you answer for the bloodshed that may arise from such a trifle?" Netz silently sheathed his sword; his brothers in arms followed his example. "And now, with God, to horse, gentlemen," added Tausdorf, kissed Althea's hand in silent fervour, and strode out. The knights hastened after him. "What a man! exclaimed Althea, as in the overflow of feeling she sank upon her uncle's breast. "You are right, niece," replied Schindel, with emotion: "Let him be ten times an Utraquist, yet he is a noble, strong-minded man, and with pleasure should I one day lay your hand in his." * * * * * The old burgomaster, Erasmus Friend, paced up and down the large arched chamber of his stately stone mansion, in his official insignia, his hands behind his back, and gloom upon his wrinkled forehead. Just then crept in the doctor of law, Esaias Heidenreich, a thin little man, with a face of cunning. "Well!" exclaimed the burgomaster, "have you found it out? What would the bishop?" "Just what I prophesied," replied the doctor, shrugging his shoulders; "he would inquire into this bad business himself, and submit the decision to the emperor." "That is against our privileges," cried the burgomaster, indignantly. "The penal jurisdiction belongs exclusively to our city in all cases."