If Lienhard Groland passed her now he could not help seeing her, and she had no greater desire than to meet his glance once more before her life ended.

Yet she dreaded this meeting with an intensity plainly revealed by the passionate throbbing of her heart and the panting of her weakened lungs.

There was a rushing noise in her ears, and her eyes grew dim.

Yet she was obliged to keep them wide open--what might not the next moment bring?
For the first time since her entrance she gazed around the large, long apartment, which would have deserved the name of hall had it not been too low.
The heated room, filled with buzzing flies, was crowded with travellers.
The wife and daughter of a feather-curler, who were on their way with the husband and father to the Reichstag, where many an aristocratic gentleman would need plumes for his own head and his wife's, had just dropped the comb with which they were arranging each other's hair.

The shoemaker and his dame from Nuremberg paused in the sensible lecture they were alternately addressing to their apprentices.