The chair moved violently, and Landolin cried:
"Your honor, I am Landolin of Reutershöfen; this is my house; out there are my fields, my meadows, my forests. I am no adventurer, and I sha'n't run away for a beggar who is nothing to me."
The judge shrugged his shoulders, and said that they would probably be able to release him in a few days.
As the clerk folded his papers together, he cast a longing look at the poured-out wine; but he had to content himself with licking the ink-spots from his fingers.
"May I not send my husband a bed?" asked the farmer's wife. This was the first word she had spoken. The judge replied with a compassionate smile that it was not necessary.
Landolin took her hand, and, for the first time in many years, said in an affectionate tone:
"Dear Johanna." Her face was illuminated as though a miracle had been worked; and Landolin continued: "Don't worry. Nothing will happen to me."
"Can't he take me with him?" asked his wife of the judge.
"I am sorry that it is impossible."
She was about to send a maid-servant for Thoma, but Landolin prevented it, and said to the judge: