Aunt Lisbeth entered, and
flitted duskily round the room, crying:
'We are lost: they are upon us! better death with a bodkin! Never shall
it be said of me; never! the monsters!'
Then admonishing them to lock, bar, bolt, and block up every room in the
house, Aunt Lisbeth perched herself on the edge of a chair, and reversed
the habits of the screech-owl, by being silent when stationary.
'There's nothing to fear for you, Lisbeth,' said Gottlieb, with
discourteous emphasis.
'Gottlieb! do you remember what happened at the siege of Mainz? and poor
Marthe Herbstblum, who had hoped to die as she was; and Dame
Altknopfchen, and Frau Kaltblut, and the old baker, Hans Topf's sister,
all of them as holy as abbesses, and that did not save them! and nothing
will from such godless devourers.'
Gottlieb was gone, having often before heard mention of the calamity
experienced by these fated women.
'Comfort thee, good heart, on my breast,' said Margarita, taking Lisbeth
to that sweet nest of peace and fortitude.
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