The latter bowed assentingly, and Schindel added, as if to soften his first expression, "The Utraquists too are honourable people." "I hope so," replied Tausdorf, smiling at the intolerance which lurked in the well-intended affirmation. "But keep that a secret here as long as it can be done; at least till the people know you better. The town, as well as the whole country, is zealously Lutheran." "Pardon me; in the field I have learnt neither simulation nor dissimulation, and I deem them besides contrary to my honour as a knight. He who, on account of the Utraquist, overlooks the man in me, is only an object of my pity, and I set little value on his opinion." A tumult in the street interrupted this conversation. "What is the matter below?" said Schindel to the servant, who just then brought in a fresh flask of wine. "A violent fray," he replied, "in the house of the widow Fox, in the market-place. Francis Friend quarrelled with Rasselwitz about a bay horse, and from words they drew their swords upon each other. The police have already interfered to put an end to the tumult." "Gracious heavens!" cried Schindel, clasping his hands, "will this disorder never have an end?" "The crime," returned Tausdorf, "was settled in this room by the violent young nobles. I immediately suspected the evil that would come of it, and warned them, but in vain." "God reward you for the good intent," said Schindel, and he proffered his hand to him with unfeigned cordiality: "There is, indeed, a necessity for rational people interfering in these mad affairs, which are now unceasing between the nobles and the citizens; one fray always creates a multitude, and in the end both parties will be ruined by them." As he spoke the door was violently thrown open, and in rushed the breathless Netz, sword in hand. "For heaven's sake, what has happened?" cried Althea, anxiously. "Under favour, sister," panted Netz, sheathing his sword: "Allow your servant to fetch my horse directly. He will find it in the stable at Barthel Wallach's. I must be off this hour from Schweidnitz, or I am lost." At a sign from his mistress the servant hurried out. "But what is really the matter?" asked Schindel, pressingly: "You have no doubt been again doing in your wrath what is not right before God." "We went," said Netz, binding his pocket-handkerchief about his bleeding arm, "to fetch the horse which Francis had promised Rasselwitz. In the house we stumbled on him and some fellows of his own stamp. From words it soon came to blows. The fray grew hot; my servant was flung into the well: still, however, we stood our ground fairly; but then came the police upon us with the whole tribe of city officers, and we were overwhelmed by numbers; Bieler was killed; Rasselwitz wounded and taken; I saw that standing out would lead to nothing but death or a dungeon, laid about me like a boar at bay, and fortunately cut my way through."