"And I repeat that it is a beggarly house," said the other; "with a poor, miserable family in it."
"You don't believe me?" screamed Silly Catharine; "well, then I'll show you what you call poor; a pretty thing, indeed, that you should say we are a beggarly family!" And, bouncing from her seat, she led the tax gatherer to the store room, and dragging the money bags from their concealment, she opened them triumphantly, saying, "There, what do you call that?"
"At least a thousand guilders!" exclaimed the tax gatherer, astonished at seeing so much more than he had expected. "So, you refuse to pay the tax when you have all this money in the house! I confiscate it all in the name of the king, and you may think yourself lucky if you and your precious husband (who must be wise, since he married such a wife as you), don't get thrown into prison besides." So saying, he snatched up the bags of guilders, while Catharine stood staring at him in mute horror, and in an instant was out of the house, and gone on his way.
Nearly stunned with this new mishap, Catharine burst into tears, and ran down stairs crying, as though her heart would break. "What is to become of me," she sobbed, "when Peter comes home? He will certainly kill me for having shown the tax gatherer the money! Nevertheless, what could I do? It was impossible to have people say that Wise Peter was a beggarly creature—I could not allow that!" and, a little re-assured, she dried her eyes and went to taste the soup. It was nearly done, and tasted deliciously. "Ah!" cried Silly Catharine, "the soup is better than usual! It quite repays me for all to think that we still have the finest cabbages!"
In the mean time, one of the reapers, who had drank less wine than the others, woke up sober, and as soon as he found he could stand on his legs, he ran post haste to the village to relate the wonderful tale. The place being small and the gossips many, it was not half an hour before the whole population knew the extraordinary occurrence that had taken place. Even the curé, the magistrate, and the doctor rushed into the street to hear the news, and a pretty uproar there was. "Said I not truly that Wise Peter was in league with the Evil One?" exclaimed one, "for only thus can the miracle of a spring of wine be accounted for." "True, true!" cried the listeners; "a wizard he must be; and that of a right dangerous sort!"
Just at this moment, the wagon of Wise Peter was seen coming along the road. The impatient villagers could not wait for him to approach them, but rushed toward the wagon and surrounded it on every side. "How now, wretched wizard!" they one and all shouted; "dare you look us in the face when we have found you out in your sorceries? Away with you to prison!" and, so saying, they laid hold of Wise Peter, dragged him out of the wagon, and bore him toward the magistrate. In vain the wretched man begged for some explanation, declared a hundred times over that he was no wizard, but an honest peasant; they only shouted, tauntingly, "A pretty story for a man who turns his well springs into the finest wine! no wizard, indeed! say, rather, a wizard of the worst kind!"
With these words, they hauled him before the magistrate, where, again, the reaper repeated his story, adding, by way of proof, "If you don't believe me, go and see the other reapers; there they lie drunk, where I left them."
"You hear what this honest man says," said the magistrate. "We have long suspected you of sorcery, but this proves the matter at once. Either you must forfeit a hundred guilders, as ordained by law in such cases, or you must go to prison."
Almost distracted, Wise Peter exclaimed, "You have seen fit, worthy magistrate, to accuse me of a crime of which, so far from being guilty, I know nothing whatever. When I left home this morning, I swear the water was as fresh and pure as possible. I know that some envious people had long accused me of practising black arts, and if Industry and Prudence are black arts, I am certainly guilty; but in this matter of the water, I am as innocent as my own wife!"
"All this is very fine," answered the magistrate; "but it happens that the bewitched water can be produced;" and turning to the reaper, he said, "Have you any of this water about you?"