"Before long we will go together to one Katheline, a handsome woman I know. And she has a daughter--a child of mine forsooth, if indeed Katheline has proved faithful to me. And she is a right comely lass, and I give her to you, for these bastards are nothing to me. And you must know that I have already had from the mother a sum of three and twenty caroluses. This money all belonged to her. But somewhere, unless I am a dunce, she keeps secreted the fortune of Claes, that heretic, you remember, who was burned alive at Damme--seven hundred caroluses in all, and liable to confiscation. But the good King Philip, who has burned so many of his subjects for the sake of their inheritance, cannot lay his claw upon this, and assuredly it will weigh heavier in my purse than ever it would in his. Katheline will tell me where it is hidden, and we will share it between us. Fortune favours the young, as His Sacred Majesty Charles V was never tired of saying, and he was a past master in all the arts of love and war." Here the clerk of the court stopped reading and said: "Such is the letter, and it is signed Joos Damman." And the people cried out: "To the death with the murderer! To the death with the sorcerer!" But the bailiff ordered them to keep silence so that judgment might be passed on the prisoners with every form of freedom and legality. After that he addressed himself again to the aldermen. "Now I will read to you the second letter, which is the letter Nele found sewn into the pocket of Katheline's Sunday gown. These are the terms of it: "Sweet witch, here is the recipe of a mixture which was sent to me by the wife of Lucifer himself. By the aid of this mixture it is possible to be transported to the sun, the moon, and the stars, and you can hold converse with the elemental spirits who carry the prayers of men to God, and can traverse the cities, towns, rivers, and fields of all the world. Mix equal parts of the following: stramonium, solanum, somniferum, henbane, opium, fresh ends of hemp, belladonna, and thorn-apple. Then drink. If it is your wish we will go this very night to the Sabbath of the Spirits. But you must love me more, and not be cold to me like you were the other night, refusing to give me even ten florins, and denying that you had got them! For I know very well you have a treasure in your hiding but will not tell me where. Do you not love me any more, my sweetheart?--Your cold devil, "Hanske." "To death with the sorcerer!" cried the crowd. The bailiff said: "Let the two handwritings be compared." When this had been done, and when it had been found that they were in all respects similar, the bailiff said: