between themselves and the enemy's sword. And thus it
happened that the same season which held out a not improbable picture of final
restoration, however remote, to public happiness, promised them a certain
foretaste of this blessing in the immediate security of their homes.
    But in the ancient city of Klosterheim it might have been imagined that
nobody participated in these feelings. A stir and agitation amongst the citizens
had been conspicuous for some days; and on the morning of the 8th, spite of the
intense cold, persons of every rank were seen crowding from an early hour to the
city walls, and returning homewards at intervals, with anxious and dissatisfied
looks. Groups of both sexes were collected at every corner of the wider streets,
keenly debating, or angrily protesting; at one time denouncing vengeance to some
great enemy; at another, passionately lamenting some past or half-forgotten
calamity, recalled to their thoughts whilst anticipating a similar catastrophe
for the present day.
    Above all, the great square, upon which the ancient castellated palace or
schloss opened by one of its fronts, as well as a principal convent of the city,
was the resort of many turbulent spirits. Most of these were young men, and
amongst them many students of the university. For the war, which had thinned or
totally dispersed some of the greatest universities in Germany, under the
particular circumstances of its situation had greatly increased that of
Klosterheim. Judging by the tone which prevailed, and the random expressions
which fell upon the ear at intervals, a stranger might conjecture that it was no
empty lamentation over impending evils which occupied this crowd, but some
serious preparation for meeting or redressing them. An officer of some
distinction had been for some time observing them from the antique portals of
the palace. It was probable, however, that little more than their gestures had
reached him; for at length he moved nearer, and gradually insinuated himself
into the thickest part of the mob, with the air of one who took no further
concern, in their proceedings than that of simple curiosity. But his martial air
and his dress allowed him no means of covering his purpose. With more warning
and leisure to arrange his precautions, he might have passed as an indifferent
spectator; as it was, his jewel-hilted sabre, the massy gold chain, depending in
front from a costly button and loop which secured it half way down his back, and
his broad crimson scarf, embroidered in a style of peculiar splendour, announced
him as a favoured officer of the Landgrave, whose ambitious pretensions, and
tyrannical mode of supporting them, were just now