Theresa, Rudolf, and Franz were all good at this pastime—Rudolf the best, because Theresa's bashfulness often restrained her, and Franz's satire scarcely ever rose to the value of wit. At the rustic merry-making at am Sand, all three were present; and Franz, nettled by Theresa's rejection of him, assailed her with several such stinging impromptus, that were no impromptus at all, having been prepared beforehand, that Theresa turned the tables on him, with a true woman's malice, for cowardice on the day of battle, and invented such a number of absurd reasons for his keeping out of harm's way, that hearty laughter resounded on all sides; and Franz, smarting more than he showed, secretly resolved to have his day of revenge.
Meanwhile, the ground was clearing for wrestlers. Almost every Tyrolese wears a thick silver or iron ring on the little finger of the right hand, to use in the pugilistic encounters they call robeln; and a fist so armed can inflict cruel wounds. Franz, irritated by Theresa's sarcasms, felt a burning desire to inflict some disfiguring hurt on Rudolf; and, though rather afraid of trying his strength with him, the evil desire predominated, and he challenged him to a match. But Rudolf happened to have no mind for it; and as soon as Franz clearly made out this, he never ceased pestering Rudolf, and twitting him with his backwardness, till Rudolf, at length losing patience, told him that if he did not desist, he would pitch him into the Passeyr.
Such a wicked expression came into Franz's face, on this, that it made Theresa's blood run cold; and she hastily interrupted the strife by exclaiming, "The miracle-play is just going to begin. Franz, are not you to be the Philistine?"
The subject was David and Goliath. Rudolf was David, and Franz (on stilts) Goliath. The subordinate parts were filled by other peasants. Rudolf came in, driving a real donkey, supposed to be laden with the ten cheeses for his brethren's captain; and he questioned about the fight, and answered his brother's rebuke very effectively. Franz mouthed the defiance to Israel extremely well, and straddled and swaggered about like a very Goliath. The Passeyr was very handy to represent the brook that supplied the pebbles; and Rudolf, though he slung the stone near enough to his antagonist to make Franz swerve his head considerably to one side, was at pains not really to hit him. Franz did not know this, however; he thought the pebble was slung unreasonably and maliciously close; therefore, when Rudolf ran up to his prostrate body to make believe to sever his head with the Sandwirth's own sword, Franz hooked his foot round his rival's ankle, and suddenly brought him with violence to the ground. This was so unexpected a catastrophe, that a cry, mingled with laughter, arose from the audience. But Rudolf was not to be so baffled; he clasped his arms strictly round his foe, who already was under him, and writhing, struggling, and rolling, they twisted one another about till Rudolf finally got his antagonist to the water's edge, and soused him in the Passeyr. Whereupon there naturally ensued a clamour of laughter and applause; and the victor was tumultuously greeted; while the drenched giant slunk moodily out of sight.
Rudolf now triumphantly mounted the stilts, and strode round the green; but Hofer, who had played King Saul, and who liked a joke as well as any one, aimed a large turnip so well at the right stilt, that Rudolf was suddenly laid prostrate. As his encumbrances effectually prevented his rising, (the ends being seized by several little boys, and big ones too,) he lay quite at the mercy of the public, especially of Theresa, who sang a requiem over him, much in the style of "Who killed cock robin?"
Who killed poor David?
Can this be he who late was seen
The pride of every village-green?
Alas, poor David!
Who fetched him down?
On lordly stilts we saw him stride
A season brief, too swollen with pride—
Alas, poor David!
Take warning, all with pride elate,
Behold this hapless youngster's fate;
A turnip vile has cracked his pate.
Alas, poor David!
It was remarked that as soon as Theresa began to sing, the prostrate victim lay quite still; and as soon as she ceased, he declared in a loud voice that since he was dead, he was determined to be buried. "Four proper youths and tall" immediately stepped forward, and raised him, stiff as a log, on their shoulders, then bore him with decent solemnity to the dust heap.
After this deportation, Rudolf seemed to think himself exonerated from further communication with any of his fellow-mortals, except Theresa, with whom he was seen, by those who thought it worth while to look after him, in earnest conversation at the dairy-door.