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Updated: May 7, 2025
"You shall die without being allowed to give utterance to your despair." Melac's eyeballs almost started from their sockets, but the monk looked on without pity. He dragged him to that part of the tower whence the gilded weathercock could be seen toying with the free air of heaven.
Know ye that ye ask of this maiden her own ruin for your lives ?" "But if Melac's soldiery are set upon us," replied a young woman in the throng; "we shall all he ruined mothers, wives, and maidens. And is it not better," continued she, raising her voice, and addressing the mob, "is it not better that one woman should suffer dishonor than a thousand?"
Without sympathy and without witnesses shall he die, and in his last moments, when his flesh quivers with agony, and the devouring flames shall consume his odious body, let him think on Marie Wengelin, and on me. her lover and betrothed husband Caspar!" Without another word, he drew from Melac's finger his signet-ring, and began to descend the winding-stair.
No sooner were Melac's commands uttered than they were obeyed, for he that tarried when the tyrant spoke was sure to come to grief. The monk swung himself into the saddle with the agility of a trooper, and, although the horse reared and plunged, he never swerved from his seat. "Verily you are a curious specimen of a monk," laughed Melac. "I never saw a brother so much to my taste before.
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