"Now, what great misfortune is there in this?" inquired Count Gerhard. "The bit of lead you can outweigh with a silver penny. The old soul will be released in a day or two, and, in the meantime, another may sweep your floor." "It is death to her, Count Gerhard, even if it had not happened in the church. You are not aware of the laws of Nyborg. Every man who is guilty of theft is hanged; but a woman is buried alive." "And are you all mad, then?" demanded Count Gerhard. "Shall a woman be thus inhumanly punished? Is the crime more atrocious in her than in a man? You jest, sir drost." "If you do not believe me, noble sir, read for yourself. There are the bye-laws affixed to the door-post. Read but the twenty-ninth article, and you will see that, unfortunately, I am not jesting." "Read it, Longlegs!" cried out the count to his jester: "I have some difficulty in rising; and, truly, such confounded laws are not worth rising for." "The twenty-ninth article," commenced the jester, taking up a candle, which threw a light upon the large table of laws on the door-post. "Here I have it. Give ear, my masters: it is the golden word of justice, and a sufficient reason is alleged." He then began to read, in a grave judicial manner: "'_What woman soever shall be guilty of theft, and deserves to be hanged, with the stolen goods by her side, shall, for her womanly honour's sake, be buried alive_.' Now, in truth, this is an honour that one takes straightways with him to eternity. It is no transient honour, my masters; and, therefore, it has been reserved for the fair and more fortunate sex." "Are you, then, insane?" exclaimed the count. "What honour is there in being buried alive?" "Where is your wisdom, my wellborn sir?" replied the jester: "for a woman, it is manifestly a far more honourable and becoming way of dying, than if she were to be hanged, like a man--like a male thief, on a gallows. Think of the scandal it would occasion her father confessor." "It is, nevertheless, a madness," exclaimed the count. "Is it out of mere strait-laced modesty that they are so cruel here? May the foul fiend take all clerks and hang-the-heads who give out such laws and regulations! Are you alike scrupulous, Drost Peter? And will you suffer your good old nurse to be buried alive, merely that your wise king's law may not be transgressed?" "She shall--she must be saved!" exclaimed the young drost, who had hitherto stood silent and thoughtful, with his hand on the document in his breast. "Excuse me, gentlemen: I must to the king." With these words, he left the room.