The gend'arme was not inclined to believe Thomas's story, and would have arrested him forthwith, if Baum had not whispered to him that there was no doubt that the lady had drowned herself, and that there was no murder in the case. He was moved by a feeling akin to pity for his brother, and did not wish to have him arrested.
"Come here!" said Baum to Thomas. "Let's make an exchange. I'll give you my flask--there's a good deal in it yet--for the hat."
"Oh no! I know who the hat belongs to: it's worth a lot, and I'll take it to the king."
"He still has got his sweetheart's hat,
Though she lies in the lake;
And since she's drowned, another love
Right gladly will he take,"
sang Thomas, with heavy voice, while he threw the hat up into the air and caught it again.
The gend'arme wanted to give Thomas a beating; Baum restrained him, however, and then walked up to Thomas and placed his hand upon his shoulder. Thomas started, but suddenly grew quiet, and looked at Baum as if afraid of him. Baum spoke to him with a condescending air, and Thomas listened, with mouth agape, as if trying to recollect something, he knew not what. The voice, and the hand upon his shoulder, made quite another man of him, and the savage, murderous fellow wept.
"Will you give me the hat for a gold piece, or must it be taken from you by force? You see we're two to one, and can master you," said Baum.