The throng below still cried:  “Where?  Where?” and crowded close together when the second stroke occurred.  They stood for a moment paralyzed with fear.  “Thank the Lord!  It was harmless this time too!” exclaimed one voice.  “No!  No!  It is burning.  God have mercy!” replied others; sharp eyes saw in the darkness that appeared between the flashes little blue flames leaping like candles over the slate.  These flames sought one another and when they found one another they blazed up convulsively into a larger flame, then fled dancingly away and shivered into pieces.  The storm bent and blew them here and there; sometimes they seemed to die out, but suddenly they leaped up brighter than ever.  They were growing, one could see that, but their growth was not rapid.  Much more rapid and vehement was the new cry of fire that swelled through the town.  In anxious suspense the gaze of all was riveted on the one small spot.  “Help!  Now!  It can still be put out!” And again through storm and thunder sounded the agonized cry:  “Nettenmair!  Where is Nettenmair?” A voice called, “He is in the tower.”  All hearts felt relief when they heard that.  And most of them did not know him, even among those who called out for him, and those who did not know him cried out loudest.  In moments of general helplessness the crowd clings to a name, to a mere word.  Some thus thrust from themselves the calls of conscience which demanded personal effort, personal risk, and these are they who are most merciless in their judgment of the helper if he is unable to help.  The rest are happy if they can delude themselves for the moment.  “What could he do?” cried one.  “Help!  Rescue!” cried others.  “Even if one had wings, he would not dare the ascent in such a storm.”  “Nettenmair surely would.”  In the depths of their hearts, however, even the most confident knew that he would not.  The thought that the flame could be extinguished if it were only accessible aggravated the general spirit of uneasiness.  It prevented that dull submission which the inevitable with gentle severity compels.  When the door opened and the suspended ladder became visible, and it seemed as if somebody were going to dare the deed, the effect on the crowd was as terrifying as the stroke itself had been.  And the ladder hung and swayed in the air with the man who was climbing upward, enveloped in snow, encircled by lightning; the ladder that seemed cut from a splinter swinging with the man like a bell in the awful heights.  Every one held his breath.  The same expression of horror stared from hundreds of unlike faces at the man on high.  None believed in the daring feat—­and yet they saw the man who dared.  It was like something that was at the same time dream and reality.  Nobody believed in it, and yet each one stood himself on the ladder while under him swung the light splinter in storm and lightning and thunder, high between heaven and earth.  And again they stood below on the firm earth and looked upward; and yet if the man should