Forty or fifty, when most women only begin to be wicked
     Shadow which must ever fall where there is light
     Woman who might win the love of a highly-gifted soul (Pays for it)

MARGERY

By Georg Ebers

Volume 7.

CHAPTER X.

“The old owl!  I will give him somewhat to remember me by till some one else can say ‘Gone’ over him!” This was what my Uncle Christian growled a little later, out near the stables, where Matthew was putting the bridle on my bay nag, while the other serving-men were saddling the horses for the gentlemen.  I had stolen hither, knowing full well that the old folks would not have suffered me to ride forth after Ann, and my good godfather even now ceased not from railing, in his fears for his darling.  “What else did we talk of yestereve, Master leech and I, all the way we rode with the misguided maid, but of the wicked deeds done in these last few weeks on the high roads, and here in this very wood?  With her own ears, she heard us say that the town constable required us to take seven mounted men as outriders, by reason that the day before yesterday the whole train of waggons of the Borchtels and the Schnods was overtaken, and the convoy would of a certainty have been beaten if they had not had the aid, by good-hap, of the fellowship marching with the Maurers and the Derrers.—­And it was pitch dark, owls were flitting, foxes barking; it was enough to make even an old scarred soldier’s blood run cold.  It is a sin and a shame how the rogues ply their trade, even close under the walls of the city!  They cut off a bleacher’s man’s ears, and when I wished that young Eber of Wichsenstein, and all the rout that follows him might come to the gallows, Ann made bold to plead for them, by reason that he only craved to visit on the Nurembergers the cruel death they brought upon his father the famous thief.  As if she did not know full well that, since Eppelein of Gailingen was cast into prison, our land has never been such a den of murder and robbery as at this day.  If there is less dust to be seen on the high-ways, said the keeper, it is by reason that it is washed away in blood.  And notwithstanding all this the crazy maid runs straight into the Devil’s arms, with that old dolt.”

Then, when I went into the stable to mount, Uncle Conrad turned on Kubbeling in stormy ire for that he had suffered Uhlwurm to lead Ann into such peril; howbeit the Brunswicker knew how to hold his own, and declared at last that he could sooner have looked to see a falcon grow a lion’s tail in place of feathers, than that old death-watch make common cause with a young maiden.  “He had come forth,” quoth he, “to counsel their excellencies to take horse.”  But my uncle’s question, whether he, Kubbeling, believed that they had come forth to the stables to hear mass, put an end to his