* * * * *
When he reached the drawbridge, behind the palings of which a girl's figure crouched, awaiting his return, he was full of a desperate resolve. His father should be carried to his last resting-place by an armed force.
"Are you ready to earn another large sum of money?" he asked the girl, who flushed and stood up quickly at his approach.
She looked at him for a moment in reflective surprise, and then, as his meaning dawned on her, she shook her head violently.
"Why not?" he demanded.
She began to tremble. "What's the good of money to me, Herr?" she asked, in subdued, bitter tones. "They would only take it away from me."
"Who?"
"People--those people. Please, oh please, give me no money."
"Her mind is clearly unhinged," thought Boleslav.
"Besides, there is money enough," she continued in a whisper, glancing round her timidly, "in the cellar--great boxes full--where the wine is. I used to take what I wanted from there--for him, I mean--the gnäd'ger Herr. For myself I never want any, unless it's to buy a new jacket with."