“Katharina, girl, I believe you’ve found it!” said her father, with enthusiasm. “My bonny girl has saved me this time also!” and he clasped her in his arms. Though misgivings would come back when he recalled Andrä’s assurance, he yet went to bed happy in the consciousness of at least having a good chance of not being beaten.
In the morning he was up betimes, and, having taken great pains to learn what he had to say from Katharina, who walked a good stretch of the way through the valley with him, he arrived at the court in tolerably good humour.
Andrä was there before him, and in high good humour too; taking for granted that, as the richer and more important man, and, moreover, as the victor (so he felt assured), he had the right to speak first. As soon as the judge had taken his seat, and even before he had called on him for his answer, he began,—
“Sir judge, I have the answer to your enigma; and as soon as I have told it, you will please give judgment in my favour. It was indeed easy enough to find, so I claim no merit in the discovery,” he added, with the pride that apes humility. “The most Beautiful thing on earth is my wife, of course; the Strongest, are my oxen; and the Richest, am I.”
The judge listened without moving a muscle of his countenance, as became a judge, and for those who were too obtuse to perceive the fine irony of the smile with which he bowed to the speaker at the conclusion of his harangue—and among these was certainly Andrä himself—it seemed as if he was quite satisfied with the answer. Nevertheless, he turned to Alois, and said,—
“Well, my man, and what is your answer?”
“But the judgment, good sir judge! would your honour be pleased to pronounce the sentence in my favour, seeing I have given your worship the answer?” interposed Andrä Margesin, fussily.
“Gently and fairly!” replied the judge; “wait only a little: we must hear what friend Alois has to say. He might have an answer, you know; and, anyhow, we must give him the opportunity.”
Andrä chafed, but could not resist; and, at an encouraging word from the judge, Alois stood forward and repeated word for word the answer Katharina had taught him.
Though the judge had preserved his imperturbability through the expression of Andrä’s silly bombast, this answer of Alois was too much for his composure. He had only proposed the enigma as the means of getting rid of a perplexing case. He had no idea but that both peasants would bring an answer of which he could easily expose the folly; and thus, neither having fulfilled the prescribed terms, the case would fall through of itself, and he be saved from further trouble. But he saw nothing to reply to Alois’ solution of his question, nor any means of escaping from giving judgment in his favour. Every body acquiesced in the justice of the decision; and even Andrä himself had nothing to say, but, crestfallen, and in very different style from his confidence of the day before, he made his exit while people were yet engaged with the discussion of Alois’ success, so as to avoid alike scorn and condolence.