Pagina 71 di 483

Morning, dismal and wet, at length dawned and discovered to my

sleepless and aching eyes the church of Ingolstadt, its white

steeple and clock, which indicated the sixth hour. The porter

opened the gates of the court, which had that night been my

asylum, and I issued into the streets, pacing them with quick

steps, as if I sought to avoid the wretch whom I feared every

turning of the street would present to my view. I did not dare

return to the apartment which I inhabited, but felt impelled to

hurry on, although drenched by the rain which poured from a black

and comfortless sky.

I continued walking in this manner for some time, endeavouring by

bodily exercise to ease the load that weighed upon my mind. I

traversed the streets without any clear conception of where I was

or what I was doing. My heart palpitated in the sickness of fear,

and I hurried on with irregular steps, not daring to look about

me: