It was after midnight when the servants closed the heavy door of the Ortlieb mansion.

The late guests had left it, mounted their horses, and ridden away together through the Frauenthor into the city.
The moon no longer lighted their way.

A sultry wind had swept from the southwest masses of grey clouds, which constantly grew denser and darker.

Heinz Schorlin did not notice it, but his follower, Biberli, called his attention to the rising storm and entreated him to choose the nearest road to the city.

To remain outside the gate in such darkness would be uncomfortable, nay, perhaps not without peril, but the knight merely flung him the peevish answer, "So much the better," and, to Biberli's surprise, turned into St.Klarengasse, which brought him by no means nearer to his distant lodgings in the Bindergasse.
It was unfortunate to be warmly devoted to a master who had no fear, whom he was obliged to serve as a messenger of love, and who now probably scarcely knew himself whither this love would lead him.
But true and steadfast Biberli would really have followed Sir Heinz, not only in a dangerous nocturnal ramble, but through all the terrors of.
hell.