“Peter Kurtz and Catherine Kurtz, you are to consider yourselves under arrest,” said the sheriff.
“But the baron has issued a proclamation that he will never arrest me again,” said poor Peter.
“You are arrested,” continued the sheriff, without paying the slightest attention to Peter, “in the king’s name, upon suit of the Baron von Dunderhead, for obtaining goods under false pretense.”
Catherine said never a word—not even “I told you so”—but submitted, whilst poor Peter cried like a very child.
They were thrown into separate dungeons, in default of bail. Not many days elapsed, however, before they were brought forth to be tried by the grand tribunal.
The king sat upon a chair of state, with a learned judge at each side, to decide the extraordinary cases that were brought before him.
Peter and Catherine were led up to the bar, the latter calm and collected, the former weeping bitterly, and continually crying, “if I had but minded her! if I had but minded her!”
This doleful cry, which was continued in spite of the violent vociferations of “order in the court!” at length aroused the king’s curiosity, and he inquired what he meant. Amid many sobs, Peter contrived to tell the king the whole story. “Had I minded,” said he, in conclusion, “when she advised me not to take the cup to the baron; had I minded when she advised me not to receive it back again; or, had I minded when she advised me to leave Kaboutermannekensburg, I had never gotten myself into this trouble—miserable wretch that I am!” Here he commenced sobbing afresh with great vehemence.
The king put on his spectacles and looked at Catherine. “Faith!” said he, “thou art much wiser than most girls of thy age, and—ahem! very pretty, too, I vow!” Then, turning to the baron, “Prefer your charge, baron,” said he. Hereupon the baron told how Catherine had given him the goose for her father’s freedom and the golden cup, and how she had sworn that every egg it should lay would be of pure gold.
“Well,” said the king, “did she forswear herself?”