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murdered。 Her corpse was discovered at daybreak under the archway
leading to the old fortifications。 She had been stabbed to the
heart。 No other signs of violence were visible； no robbery had
been attempted。
In great cities； necessarily great centers of crime； we daily hear
of murders； their frequency and remoteness leave us undisturbed。
Our sympathies can only be deeply moved either by some scenic
peculiarities investing the crime with unusual romance or unusual
atrocity； or else by the more immediate appeal of direct neighborly
interest。 The murder which is read of in the Times as having
occurred in Westminster； has seldom any special horror to the
inhabitants of Islington or Oxford Street； but to the inhabitants
of Westminster； and especially to the inhabitants of the particular
street in which it was perpetrated； the crime assumes heart…shaking
proportions。 Every detail is asked for； and every surmise listened
to； with feverish eagerness is repeated and diffused through the
crowd with growing interest。 The family of the victim； the
antecedents of the assassin； if he is known； or the conjectures
pointing to the unknown assassin；are eagerly discussed。 All the
trivial details of household care or domestic fortunes； all the
items of personal gossip； become invested with a solemn and
affecting interest。 Pity for the victim and survivors mingle and
alternate with fierce cries for vengeance on the guilty。 The whole
street becomes one family； commingled by an energetic sympathy；
united by one common feeling of compassion and wrath。
In villages； and in cities so small as Nuremberg； the same
community of feeling is manifested。 The town became as one street。
The horror spread like a conflagration； the sympathy surged and
swelled like a tide。 Everyone felt a personal interest in the
event； as if the murder had been committed at his own door。 Never
shall I forget that wail of passionate pity； and that cry for the
vengeance of justice； which rose from all sides of the startled
city。 Never shall I forget the hurry； the agitation； the feverish
restlessness； the universal communicativeness； the volunteered
services； the eager suggestion； surging round the house of the
unhappy parents。 Herr Lehfeldt； the father of the unhappy girl；
was a respected burgher known to almost every one。 His mercer's
shop was the leading one of the city。 A worthy； pious man；
somewhat strict； but of irreproachable character； his virtues； no
less than those of his wife； and of his only daughter； Lieschen
now； alas； for ever snatched from their yearning eyeswere
canvassed everywhere； and served to intensify the general grief。
That such a calamity should have fallen on a household so
estimable； seemed to add fuel to the people's wrath。 Poor
Lieschen！ her pretty； playful waysher opening prospects； as the
only daughter of parents so well to do and so kindher youth and
abounding lifethese were detailed with impassioned fervor by
friends； and repeated by strangers who caught the tone of friends；
as if they； too； had known and loved her。 But amidst the surging
uproar of this sea of many voices no one clear voice of direction
could be heard； no clue given to the clamorous bloodhounds to run
down the assassin。
Cries had been heard in the streets that night at various parts of
the town； which； although then interpreted as the quarrels of
drunken brawlers； and the conflicts of cats； were now confidently
asserted to have proceeded from the unhappy girl in her death…
struggle。 But none of these cries had been heard in the immediate
neighborhood of the archway。 All the inhabitants of that part of
the town agreed that in their waking hours the streets had been
perfectly still。 Nor were there any traces visible of a struggle
having taken place。 Lieschen might have been murdered elsewhere；
and her corpse quietly deposited where it was found； as far as any
evidence went。
Wild and vague were the conjectures。 All were baffled in the
attempt to give them a definite direction。 The crime was
apparently prompted by revengecertainly not by lust； or desire of
money。 But she was not known to stand in any one's way。 In this
utter blank as to the assignable motive； I； perhaps alone among the
furious crowd； had a distinct suspicion of the assassin。 No sooner
had the news reached me； than with the specification of the theater
of the crime there at once flashed upon me the intellectual vision
of the criminal： the stranger with the dark beard and startled eyes
stood confessed before me！ I held my breath for a few moments； and
then there came a tide of objections rushing over my mind；
revealing the inadequacy of the grounds on which rested my
suspicions。 What were the grounds？ I had seen a man in a
particular spot； not an unfrequented spot； on the evening of the
night when the crime had been committed there； that man had seemed
to recognize me； and wished to avoid being recognized。 Obviously
these grounds were too slender to bear any weight of construction
such as I had based on them。 Mere presence on the spot could no
more inculpate him than it could inculpate me； if I had met him
there； equally had he met me there。 Nor even if my suspicion were
correct that he knew me； and refused to recognize me； could that be
any argument tending to criminate him in an affair wholly
disconnected with me。 Besides； he was walking peaceably； openly；
and he looked like a gentleman。 All these objections pressed
themselves upon me； and kept me silent。 But in spite of their
force I could not prevent the suspicion from continually arising。
Ashamed to mention it； because it may have sounded too absurd； I
could not prevent my constructive imagination indulging in its
vagaries； and with this secret conviction I resolved to await
events； and in case suspicion from other quarters should ever
designate the probable assassin； I might then come forward with my
bit of corroborative evidence； should the suspected assassin be the
stranger of the archway。
By twelve o'clock a new direction was given to rumor。 Hitherto the
stories； when carefully sifted of all exaggerations of flying
conjecture； had settled themselves into something like this： The
Lehfeldts had retired to rest at a quarter before ten； as was their
custom。 They had seen Lieschen go into her bedroom for the night；
and had themselves gone to sleep with unclouded minds。 From this
peaceful security they were startled early in the morning by the
appalling news of the calamity which had fallen on them。
Incredulous at first； as well they might be； and incapable of
believing in a ruin so unexpected and so overwhelming； they
imagined some mistake； asserting that Lieschen was in her own room。
Into that room they rushed； and there the undisturbed bed； and the
open window； but a few feet from the garden； silently and
pathetically disclosed the fatal truth。 The bereaved parents
turned a revealing l