His foe must have been master of the art of wielding the sword, for the dead man had been a skilful fencer, and was tall and stalwart in figure.
When the servant ended his story Heinz stood still in the darkness for a time, silently listening.

The bells had begun to ring, the blast of the watchman's horn blended with the wailing notes summoning aid, and in two places--near the Thiergartenthor and the Frauenthor--the sky was crimsoned by the reflection of a conflagration, probably kindled by some flash of lightning, which flickered over the clouds, alternately rising and falling, sometimes deeper and anon paler in hue.

Throngs of people, shouting "Fire!" pressed from the cross streets into the square.

The stillness of the night was over.
When Heinz again turned to Biberli he said in a hollow tone: "If the earth should swallow up Nuremberg tonight it would not surprise me.

But over yonder--look, Biber, the Duke of Pomerania's quarters in the Green Shield are still lighted.