ving been in a situation which suspended all my powers of reflection.
After a long interval of the most desponding agony, I was at length dragged forth and brought before the tribunal of that terrible looking man. The villain whom I had wounded was stretched on the bed, his head tied up, and his associates standing round him, bemoaning his hapless fate, and amongst them a venerable old man, whom I at first had not observed.
Now the grim judge began to speak, and the whole assembly to dart furious and blood thirty looks at me: The old man likewise turned his face towards me, and it cannot be expressed by words what my sensations were when I discerned the features of Volkert: A poor culprit cannot feel greater joy, when, under the hangman's merciless fangs, his guardian-angel appears to save him from his impending doom. I did indeed not know whether he could save me or not, howeverthe
