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One evening Diedrich was returning to his home, when, looking over his shoulder on hearing footsteps, he discovered that he was followed. When he walked faster, the stranger proceeded also at the same rate; when he stopped, the stranger stopped; when he went at a slow pace, the stranger slackened his speed. At length, passing a shrine at the corner of a street, before which a bright lamp was kept burning, Diedrich turned sharply round, and found himself standing face to face with the person who had been following him.

“What object have you in dodging my steps?” asked Diedrich, placing his hand on his sword ready to draw.

“As you ask me a question, I will put another to you,” said the stranger, also drawing his sword half out of the scabbard. “For what purpose do you visit the house where you have been passing the evening?”

“You put a question to which I positively refuse to reply to any one, and still less to you, Caspar Gaill, for I know you well,” answered Diedrich, still further drawing out his sword.

“Then I refuse to answer the question you put to me,” said Caspar. “We understand each other, and you may know me henceforth as your enemy.”

“A matter of very little consequence,” answered Diedrich, in a scornful tone.

The young men parted, but from that day forward Diedrich was aware that his footsteps were constantly followed when he went abroad, especially on the Sabbath, when he was accustomed to attend the meetings of the Protestants held in the city. Still he was too proud and too fearless to alter his mode of proceeding on this account. At night often he saw in the distance a dim figure following him, but which, when he turned round, invariably disappeared.

On one occasion he resolved to pursue the spy, and punish him severely if he could overtake him. Scarcely had he left his home when he observed a figure as usual like a distant shadow coming after him. He walked on for some way, as if indifferent to the circumstance, by gentle degrees slackening his pace, till, as he supposed, his pursuer had approached nearer than usual. He then suddenly turned round, and, darting forward, was close up to the man before the latter made any attempt to escape.

“Why, Diedrich Meghem, you seem to be in a desperate hurry this evening,” said a voice he thought he recollected.

“What, Peter Kopplestock, are you my secret pursuer?” he asked, in a tone of surprise.

“It may be so, but I may be your guardian angel,” answered the person thus addressed, in a low voice. “I have been wishing to see you without witnesses for some days past, and now the matter brooks of no delay.”

“Come to my house, then,” said Diedrich; “we can speak there without fear of interruption.”

“That’s the very place it will not be wise for me to go to,” said Peter; “if I go there I shall be observed. Do you come to my house. You will find a porch a little to the right of it. Slip in there and remain quiet for a few minutes. Should you be followed at the time, your pursuer will pass by and lose sight of you. Come in an hour hence. It will be dangerous to put off the visit till to-morrow.”

Diedrich followed the advice of his friend. He had known Peter Kopplestock from his earliest days. Peter was of no very exalted rank, but he had numerous friends who, not without reason, put confidence in him. His chief occupation was that of a ferryman plying across the river Meuse. He also visited the ships which appeared at the mouth of the river when unable for want of wind to come up to the town, and took provisions off to them, and brought messages on shore. Peter Kopplestock took an especial interest in Diedrich; Diedrich had always been his generous employer, and was now going to marry his niece.