carried into execution early next morning, for the sake of rendering speedy justice as well as to spare the expense of keeping the prisoner.
All the spectators, who had been allured by the sittings of the high tribunal, found the sentence most wise and just; but none exceeded the merciful Samaritan in his applause, who had likewise found his way into the court. He seemed at a loss for words wherewith to extol the love of justice exhibited by the Lords of Hirschberg. In fact, no one had taken such deep interest in the affair as this friend of humanity, who had himself put the Jew’s purse into the wallet of the journeyman, and was none other than our friend Rübezahl.
Early next morning he waited, in the shape of a raven, near the gallows, for the funeral procession which was to accompany the victim of his revenge. Already he felt the ravenous desire to pick out his eyes; but for this time he was disappointed. A worthy Monk who was employed to prepare Benedix for death, in order the better to effect his pious design, petitioned the court for three days’ delay, and at length succeeded in obtaining it from the magistrate, though not without great trouble, and after many threats of excommimication. When Rübezahl heard this he flew to the mountains there to await the time of the execution.
In passing through the forests, as was his custom, he discovered a young girl resting underneath a shady tree. Her head supported by a snow-white arm, drooped heavily on her bosom; her dress was not rich, but neat, and in the fashion patronized by citizens’ daughters. From time to time she wiped a tear from her cheek, and sighed deeply. The gnome had once before felt the mighty effect of a maiden’s tears: even now he was so much touched by them that he deviated, for the first time, from the law he had laid down to himself, to annoy and torment all the children of Adam who came near the mountains. The softening feelings of compassion awakened in him the desire to comfort the distressed beauty. He again took the form of a respectable citizen; approached the young girl, and said. “Maiden, why dost thou mourn so lonely in this desolate place? Hide not thy grief from me, that I may know how thou canst be helped.”
The maiden, absorbed in sadness, was startled at the sound of these words, and looked up. Her soft blue eyes, with their half-broken light, might have melted a heart of steel; clear tears shone in them like diamonds; her fair, pure, nunlike countenance, wore an expression of sorrow and grief which seemed to impart an additional charm to her natural loveliness, When she saw the respectable citizen standing before her, she opened her ruby lips, and said: “What is my grief to you, good sir, since nothing can help me? I am a wretch, a murderess; I have destroyed the one I most love, and must expiate my crime in tears and sorrow until death shall break my heart.”
