The dikemaster had risen.
"You don't need to be afraid," he spoke across the table, "that isn't meant for us only; in the year '17 it was meant for them too; may they be ready for the worst!"
Now a horror came over me.
"Pardon me!" I said. "What about this rider on the white horse?"
Apart from the others, behind the stove, a small, haggard man in a little worn black coat sat somewhat bent over; one of his shoulders seemed a little deformed. He had not taken part with a single word in the conversation of the others, but his eyes, fringed as they were with dark lashes, although the scanty hair on his head was grey, showed clearly that he was not sitting there to sleep.
Toward him the dikemaster pointed:
"Our schoolmaster," he said, raising his voice, "will be the one among us who can tell you that best--to be sure, only in his way, and not quite as accurately as my old housekeeper at home, Antje Vollmans, would manage to tell it."
"You are joking, dikemaster!" the somewhat feeble voice of the schoolmaster rose from behind the stove, "if you want to compare me to your silly dragon!"
"Yes, that's all right, schoolmaster!" replied the other, "but stories of that kind are supposed to be kept safest with dragons."
"Indeed!" said the little man, "in this we are not quite of the same opinion." And a superior smile flitted over his delicate face.