When her deadened imagination again began to stir, she fancied that she was struggling with a huge crab, which was cutting her foot with shears.  The little elf was urging it on, as the huntsmen cheer the hounds.  The pain and hate she felt would have been intolerable if Lienhard had made common cause with the terrible child.  But he reproved her conduct, and even struggled with the kobold who tried to prevent his releasing her from the crab.  The elf proved stronger than he.  The terrible shears continued to torture her.  The more she suffered, the more eagerly Lienhard seemed trying to help her, and this soothed her and blended a sweet sense of comfort with the burning pain.

CHAPTER VI.

Kuni remained under the spell of these delusions for many days and nights.  When she at last regained her senses, she was lying on a plain couch in a long, whitewashed hall.  The well-scoured floor was strewn with sand and pine needles.  Other beds stood beside hers.  On one wall hung a large wooden crucifix, painted with glaring colours; on the other a touching picture of the Mater Dolorosa, with the swords in her heart, looked down upon her.

Beside Kuni’s pallet stood a Gray Sister and an elderly man, evidently a physician.  His long black robe, tall dark cap, and gold headed cane bore witness to it.  Bending forward, with eyeglasses on his prominent nose, he gazed intently into her face.

Her return to consciousness seemed to please him, and he showed himself to be a kind, experienced leech.  With tireless solicitude he strove to cure the numerous injuries which she had received, and she soon learned through him and the nun, that she had fallen from the rope and escaped death as if by a miracle.  The triumphal arch under her, and the garlands which decorated the wooden structure, had caught her before she touched the pavement.  True, her right leg was broken, and it had been necessary to amputate her left foot in order to save her life.  Many a wound and slash on her breast and head also needed healing, and her greatest ornament, her long, thick, dark hair, had been cut off.

Why had they called her, the ropedancer, back to a life which henceforward could offer her nothing save want and cruel suffering?  She uttered this reproach to her preservers very indignantly; but as the physician saw her eating a bunch of grapes with much enjoyment, he asked if this pleasure did not suffice to make her rejoice over the preservation of her existence.  There were a thousand similar gifts of God, which scarcely seemed worthy of notice, yet in the aggregate outweighed a great sorrow which, moreover, habit daily diminished.