Again, as at that time, a burning thrill ran through her limbs.

Then a bitter smile hovered around her lips.
She had asked herself whether the heart of one who experienced such joys, to whom such a fate was allotted, would not burst from sheer joy.
Now the wish, the hope, and every new resolve for good or ill were alike over.

At that hour, before the door of St.Sebald's, she had been capable of all, all, perhaps even the best things, if any one had cherished her in his heart as Lienhard Groland loved the beautiful woman at his side.
She could not help remembering the spell with which the sight of those two had forced her to watch their every movement, to gaze at them, and them only, as if the world contained nothing else.

How often she had repeated to herself that in that hour she was bewitched, whether by him or by her she could not decide.

As the throng surged forward, she had been crowded against the woman who lost the rosary.