They all rose, even the uncle from his pretended sleep, as if deliverance were at hand. A fearful pounding now began overhead. "We are lost," cried Petrovitsch. Again all was still. The roof of the sleeping-room had been broken in, so that the door refused to open. After the first shock Lenz thanked God that a presentiment of the coming danger had startled both wife and child from their sleep. He comforted his companions by telling them that the sleeping chamber had been lately added to the original house, and was quite independent of it. The old oaken timbers of the main building would resist every shock. Even while he spoke he thought he saw the roof giving way in the direction of the sleeping-room; but he did not express his fears, thinking he might easily be mistaken in this uncertain blue light.
Again followed a long, breathless silence, unbroken except when a distant cock-crow was answered by a bark from Bubby and a croak from the raven in the kitchen.
"This is a veritable Noah's ark," said Petrovitsch.
"Whether we are nearing life or death, we are saved from the deluge of sin," returned Lenz.
Annele laid her hand upon his face.
"If I only had a pipe of tobacco! it is a shame you don't smoke, Lenz," complained Petrovitsch. Reminded of his fire-proof safe by the thought of his row of pipes at home, he continued: "One thing I tell you; if we ever are saved, you will get no money from me: not a penny."
"We shall not need it now," replied Lenz; while Annele said, cheerfully, "Do you know who will not believe that?"
"You?"
"No; the world. Nobody will believe, though you swear it a hundred times, that one who was in death with us will not continue with us in life. The world will give us credit on your account, and make us rich if we will let it."
"You are the same old rogue as ever," said Petrovitsh, trying to scold. "I thought you were done with your jests."