She saw the overthrow, the struggle, the flight of a few
scattered dark figures on the farther side, the drawing out of the
goods on the nearer. Oh! were those leaping waves bearing down any
good men's corpses to the Danube, slain, foully slain by her own
father and this gang of robbers?
She was glad that Ermentrude went down with her mother to watch the
return of the victors. She crouched on the floor, sobbing,
shuddering with grief and indignation, and telling her beads alike
for murdered and murderers, till, after the sounds of welcome and
exultation, she heard Sir Eberhard's heavy tread, as he carried his
sister up stairs. Ermentrude went up at once to Christina.
"After all there was little for us!" she said. "It was only a wain
of wine barrels; and now will the drunkards down stairs make good
cheer. But Ebbo could only win for me this gold chain and medal
which was round the old merchant's neck."
"Was he slain?" Christina asked with pale lips.
"I only know I did not kill him," returned the baron; "I had him down
and got the prize, and that was enough for me.
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