To this day my memory is right good in all ways; and of what followed on these events much is yet as clear and plain in my mind as though I saw and heard it all at this present time; albeit I, an old woman, would fain hide my face in my hands and weep thereat.  For, notwithstanding there were certain hours in those days which brought me sweet love-making, and others of sheer mirth and vanity, yet is the spirit of man so tempered that, when great sorrow follows hard on the greatest joy it sufficeth to darken it wholly.  And thus we may liken heaviness of heart to the chiming of bells, which hurts the ear if they sound over near, but at a distance make a sweet and devout music.  Now, in sooth, inasmuch as I must make record of the deepest woe of my life, the brazen toll is a sad one, and the long-healed wounds ache afresh.

Those two months of the Imperial Diet!  They lie behind me like distant hills.  I can no more discern them apart, albeit certain landmarks, as it were, stand forth plainly to be seen, like the church-tower, the windmill, and the old oak on the ridge on the horizon.

How the night sped after our return from the forest and the morning next after—­the 27th of July in the year of our Lord 1422—­I can no longer call to mind; but I can see myself now as, the afternoon of that day, I set forth with Ann, attired in silk and lace—­all white and new from head to foot, as it were for a wedding—­to go to the open place between St. James’ Church and the German House, within the Spital Gate.  Whichever way we looked, behold flowers, green garlands, hangings, pennons, and banners; it was as though all the gardens in Franconia had been stripped of their blossoms.  Never had such a brave show been seen, and with every breath we drank in the odors of the leaves and flowers which were already withering in the July sunshine.  A finer Saint Pantaloon’s day I never remember; the very sky seemed to share the city’s gladness and was fair to see, in spotless blue.  A light wind assuaged the waxing heat, and helped the flags and banners to unfurl:  Our fine churches were decked all over and about with garlands, boughs, and banners, and meseemed were like happy brides awaiting their marriage in holiday array.  The market-place was a scene of high festival, the beautiful fountain was a mighty bower of flowers, the triumphal arches, methought, were such as the gods of wood and garden might have joined to raise.  Every balcony was richly hung, and even the crested gables and the turrets on the roofs displayed some bravery.  All, so far as eye could see, was motley-hued and spick and span for brightness.  The tiniest pane in the topmost dormer-window glittered without a spot.  The poorest were clad in costly finery; the patrician folk were in the dress of knights and nobles; every craftsman was arrayed as though he were a councillor, every squire like his lord.  You would have weened that day that there were none but rich folk in Nuremberg.  The maidens’ pearl chaplets gleamed in the sun, and the golden jewels in their fur bonnets; and what did their mothers care for the heat as they went to and fro to display the costly fur turbans which crowned their heads as it were with a glory of fur?  How carefully had they dressed the little ones!  They were to see the Emperor and Empress with their own eyes, and their Majesties might even, by good hap, see them!