CHAPTER XI.
Count Frohlinger added a low "amen" to the last words of the dying man, then approached the widow, and in the kindly, cordial manner natural to him, strove to comfort her.
Finally he ordered his men, to loose the smith's bonds, and instantly guide him to the frontier with the woman and child.

He also spoke to Adam, but said only a few words, not cheery ones as usual, but grave and harsh in purport.
They were a command to leave the country without delay, and never return to his home again.
The Jew's corpse was laid on a bier formed of pine, branches, and the bearers lifted it on their shoulders.

Ruth clung closely to her mother, both trembling like leaves in the wind, while he who was dearest to them on earth was borne away, but only the child could weep.
The men, whom Count Frohlinger had left behind as a guard, waited patiently with the smith for his son's return until noon, then they urged departure, and the party moved forward.
Not a word was spoken, till the travellers stopped before the charcoal-burner's house.
Jorg was in the city, but his wife said that the boy had been there, and had gone back to the forest an hour before.

The tavern could accommodate a great many people, she added, and they could wait for him there.
The fugitives followed this advice, and after Adam had seen the women provided with shelter, he again sought the scene of the misfortune, and waited there for the boy until night.
Beside the stump on which his friend had died, he prayed long and earnestly, vowing to his dead preserver to live henceforth solely for his family.

Unbroken stillness surrounded him, it seemed as if he were in church, and every tree in the forest was a witness of the oath he swore.
The next morning the smith again sought the charcoal-burner, and this time found him.