"Where are you from?" asked the bride.
"From Waldhausen."
"Who is your father?"
"He does not live with us."
"What's your mother's name?"
"Martina, and my grandfather is Schilder-David."
"So, I have got you at last!" cried the fierce old Röttmannin. "Good Lord! this is Adam's son." So saying, she started up and grasped the child with eagle's talons.
"Yes, my father's name is Adam. Do you know him?"
"Come along with me; I will take you to my room and put you to bed," said the Röttmannin.
"No, I won't go with you," said Joseph. "You will stew me in a kettle, like the witches. Let me go, or I'll bite."