"Cajetan, I saw the woman whom Friedel Hofmeier sued, and to whom I gave the decree yesterday. Cajetan, I was not afraid when we were on Mount Isel and at Brixen, but I am afraid of that woman and her dreadful lamentations. I do not know what to do, Doeninger, if she should have found out what I have done, and come in here to reproach me with it."
"We shall not admit her, commander-in-chief," said Doeninger, laughing.
"But, Cajetan, I made a vow never to refuse admittance to any one, and not, as many princes do, to allow distressed persons to wait in my anteroom and send them away without listening to them and comforting them."
"But you heard, Andreas, that the woman is not in distress, for she is rich and very avaricious. She told you the most impudent falsehoods; hence, she must not be admitted; for, if you allow her to come in again, she would lie as she did yesterday."
"You are right, Cajetan, she must not come in; and now, my friend, pray go and admit the next applicant, but not that bad woman."
Doeninger went to the door, and, opening it, beckoned to the person standing nearest to it.
A young woman, dressed plainly, but very neatly, came in, and remained at the door, in visible confusion and grief.
"Well, madame," said Andreas to her, "do you come to tell me that all is right, and that your husband and you, his pretty young wife, live together in happiness and content? Well, it was heavy work to reconcile you two, and persuade you to remain together and love each other, as it behooves a Christian couple. It cost me a whole forenoon, but I do not regret it, for I accomplished my task, and reconciled you, and all was right again between you. And I made you promise to return in two weeks and tell me how you got along with each other. The two weeks are up to-day, and here comes the pretty young wife to tell me that Andreas Hofer did his work well, and that her husband is now faithful, tender, and good. Is he not?"
"Alas, he is not!" sobbed the young wife, bursting into tears. "Tony, my husband, never stays at home in the evening; he returns only late at night, scolds me for weeping and upbraiding him with his bad conduct, and yesterday—yesterday he wanted even to beat me!"
"What a bad man!" cried Andreas, vehemently. "Why did he want to beat you, then? What had you done?"