How could the widow yonder refuse her companion in guilt a compassionate reception! It was a happy idea, but she would never have ventured to rouse the woman from her sleep, so she must wait.

But the first grey light of dawn was already appearing in the eastern horizon on the opposite side of the square of St.Lawrence, and perhaps Frau Ratzer would open her house early.
The street did honour to the name of Kotgasse--[Kot or koth-mire].
Holding her dress high around her, Katterle waded across to the northern row of houses and reached the plank sidewalk covered with mud to her ankles; but at the same moment a door directly in front of her opened, and two persons, a man and a woman, entered the street and glided by; but they came from Frau Ratzer's--she recognised it by the bow-window above the entrance.

The maid hurried towards the door, which still stood open, and on its threshold was the woman to whom she intended to pay her early visit.
Almost unable to speak, she entreated her to grant a poor girl, who did not know where to seek shelter at this hour, the protection of her house.
The widow silently drew Katterle into the dark, narrow entry, shut the door, and led her into a neat, gaily ornamented room.

A lamp which was still burning hung from the ceiling, but Frau Ratzer raised the tallow candle she had carried to the door, threw its light upon her face, and nodded approvingly.

Katterle was a pretty girl, and the flush of shame which crimsoned her cheeks was very becoming.