Again there were heavy thumps against the door, and Martin’s voice was heard crying, “Open it quick! Open it, peasant, or by the devil we’ll smash the door! Open it—Paul Schülzle is in your house—deliver him over, or we’ll open fight!”
“My God, my God! how shall this end?” moaned the trembling girl. “Hark! Don’t you hear anything? Sure enough——Oh, goodness me, father is awake! Come upstairs. I can’t let you into the barn because the door creaks, and you can’t stay here by the stairs. Come, find a hiding-place upstairs, in the hall or in the kitchen—come quick! Oh, blessed Saviour, turn this misfortune! Come! father will be here with a candle in a minute; if he finds us together—you know what his temper is!”
Paul’s hand was seized again, and he was drawn upstairs; fortunately the resounding blows against the door smothered his stumbling steps. In the sitting-room the peasant was swearing about the matches that would not catch fire; the girl trembled. “Straight ahead you’ll find the kitchen-door! God be with you; I can help you no further. If father finds me here all is lost.”
A ray of light falling through the key-hole frightened the girl away. Paul was alone. Cautiously he felt his way in the direction she had indicated, but he found no door; in fact, he did not have much time left to feel for it, for just then the sitting-room door was opened. Paul bounded into the shade and then behind the door, which the farmer in his excitement forgot to shut. Again Paul was safe for the moment, although he feared the beating of his heart might betray him.
A new attack upon the door put the peasant beside himself; he put his candle on the floor, then pulled open the hall window, and a very excited interview took place between him and the men without. Hot words fell between the peasant and Martin, until finally Martin declared that if the peasant did not deliver over Paul at once he would storm the house in good earnest; whereupon the peasant replied he certainly would not have that rogue of a trumpeter in his house for a minute, but as for doing a thing because Martin said so, there was nothing further from his mind, and if there was one more blow upon the door he would not be slow to reply.
The lads actually stepped back, and the peasant shut the window. He approached the door—Paul bit his lip; if he moved it, it would bring him face to face with the old man!
But the peasant paid no attention to the door—he merely called into the room, “Wife, they say that scamp of a musician is in the house! Get up! strike a light, and help me wake the servants; the fellow shall not go unpunished!”
“AN EXCITED INTERVIEW TOOK PLACE.”
“I’ve been up this long while,” replied a faint woman’s voice trembling with cold; “but there’s no finding those matches!”