Overcome by sorrow for his father's anger, and racked with anxiety for the fate of his beloved Faith, whom he could protect no longer, Oswald sat in the criminal's apartment of the guard-house, looking listlessly through his grated window upon the snow-covered market-place. It was a cold still night, and the stars shone through the clear atmosphere with unusual brilliancy. The persecutors and the afflicted were finally at peace, and had forgotten their insolence and their sufferings in the embraces of sleep. The clocks of the church towers struck the midnight hour. The guard was aroused for the purpose of relieving the sentinels on post, and the rattling of arms resounded through the guard-house. The noise, however, soon subsiding, quiet again prevailed, and Oswald, to whom the confused and restless working of his mind had become almost insupportable, laid his weary head upon the table and tried to sleep. Just then the bolts were drawn and his door was softly opened. A corporal of the Lichtensteins, with a dark lantern, and accompanied by two soldiers, entered the prison. Releasing the prisoner from his chains, he commanded him, 'follow me to the count!' 'Am I already sentenced?' asked Oswald, with bitterness. 'Am I to be executed secretly, under the veil of night? It is a sad confession that your deeds will not bear the light of day!' 'Silence!' said the corporal, motioning him to follow. 'God help me!' cried Oswald, throwing his mantle over his shoulders and advancing. The whole guard were snoring upon their benches, the officer was in his well warmed little room slumbering amidst his wine flasks, and even the sentinel without, leaned nodding upon his halberd. He was roused, however, by the approaching foot-steps, and presenting his halberd to the corporal he cried, 'who goes there?' 'A good friend!' boldly answered the corporal, whispering the countersign. 'We are commanded to bring the prisoner to the general.' 'Pass!' said the sentinel, shouldering his arms. CHAPTER XIV. The four hastened forth together. A sharp wind whistled over the market, while a raven, scared by the wanderers, arose with loud croakings from its snowy bed and with its heavy flapping wings slowly moved away. The shivering youth wrapped his mantle more closely about him and followed the corporal without troubling himself respecting the soldiers; these last soon fell into the rear, and, dexterously turning into another street, disappeared. 'Here we are,' said the corporal, suddenly turning to Oswald. The latter, startled from his death-dream, looked wildly about him. He was standing among the graves in a parish churchyard. 'Is this indeed to be my last resting place?' he asked, throwing off his mantle. 'Only direct me where to kneel, and be sure you take good aim.'