"'Is your lodger at home?' asked Klaus, in place of an answer.
"'Since this noon, your honor!' was the polite answer. The man knew the master of the Hegewitz manor from his inquiry, for it was known all over the village that the Bütze people had the foster-child of the old actress with them.
"'Is she alone?'
"'Ah! has your honor come on account of the young mam'selle?' cried the man. 'She came here an hour ago, wet as a rat, and is lying in bed up-stairs there. I will open the door at once.'
"Klaus helped me out of the carriage. 'Will you go up to her?' he asked, and pressed my hand so hard that I nearly screamed.
"'Certainly, certainly, my lad!' I made haste to say; 'we will soon have the fugitive back at Bütze.' But sooner said than done. The blacksmith's wife, who had also appeared on the scene, carefully lighted the way up the creaking, dangerous flight of stairs, which I was scarcely able to climb with my lame foot, and there, in the low, whitewashed back room of the forge, stood Isabella Pfannenschmidt before me, like a roused lioness. She stood with outstretched arms before the bed, which was in an alcove-like recess, and was half covered with fantastic hangings of yellow chintz. With theatrical pathos she called to me: 'What do you want? You have no more right to this child!'
"Without further ado I pushed her aside and looked at the bed; from a chaos of blue and red feather-beds emerged Susanna's brown head.
"She turned her face to the wall without looking at me, and remained thus, motionless.
"'Susanna, was that right?' I asked.
"No answer.