No doubt this was all done through the magic of the gipsy mother; for the horses took fright instantly, plunged and reared, and dashed off with the carriage, which was over-turned some yards from the spot, and the baker's daughter had her leg broken. Hearing her screams, the Duke and the whole party ran to the spot; and his Highness first scolded the coachman for leaving his horses, then the falconer for having let fly his best falcon, which now lay there quite dead. The heron, however, was alive, and his Grace ordered it to be bound and carried off to Zachan. The baker's daughter prayed, but in vain, that the coachman might be hung upon the next tree. Then they all set off homeward, but Trina screamed so loudly, that his Grace stopped, and ordered a couple of stout huntsmen to carry her to the neighbouring convent of Marienfliess, where, as I am credibly informed, in a short time she gave up the ghost.

Now, the robber-band were watching all these proceedings from the wood, but kept as still as mice. Not until his Grace had driven off a good space, and the baker's daughter had been carried away, did they venture to speak or move; then Sidonia jumped up, clapping her hands in ecstasy, and mimicking the groans and contortions of the poor girl, to the great amusement of the band, who laughed loudly; but Johann recalled them to business, and proposed that they should secretly follow his Highness, and hide themselves at Elsbruck, near the water-mill of Zachan, until the evening closed in. In order also to be quite certain of the place where his Grace had laid up all the herons' feathers of that season, Johann proposed that the miller, Konnemann, should visit his Grace at Zachan, giving out that he was a feather merchant from Berlin. Accordingly, when they reached Elsbruck, the miller put on my knave's best doublet (for he was almost naked before), and proceeded to the Stone Rampart, Sidonia bidding him, over and over again, to inquire at the castle when the young Lord of Wolgast and his bride were expected at Stettin. The Duke received Konnemann very graciously, when he found that he was a wealthy feather merchant from Berlin, who, having heard of the number and extent of his Grace's gardens at Zachan, had come to purchase all the last year's gathering of feathers. Would his Highness allow him to see the feathers?

Summa.—He had his wish; for his Grace brought him into a little room on the ground-floor, where lay two sacks full of the most perfect and beautiful feathers; and when the Duke demanded a thousand florins for them, the knave replied, "That he would willingly have the feathers, but must take the night to think over the price." Then he took good note of the room, and the garden, and all the passages of the castle, and so came back in the twilight to the band with great joy, assuring them that nothing would be easier than to rob the old turner's apprentice of his feathers.

Such, indeed, was the truth; for at midnight my knave Johann, with Konnemann and a few chosen accomplices, carried away those two sacks of feathers; and no one knew a word about the robbery until the next morning, when the band were far off in the forest, no one knew where. But a quarrel had arisen between my knave and Sidonia over the feathers: she wanted them for herself, that she might turn them into money, and so be enabled to get back to her own people; but Johann had no idea of employing his booty in this way. "What was she thinking of? If those fine stallions, indeed, had not been stolen from him, he might have given her the feathers; but now there was nothing else left wherewith to pay the band—she must wait for another good prize. Meantime they must settle accounts with the young Lord of Wolgast, who, as Konnemann had found out, was expected at Stettin in seven days."

Now, the daring robbery at Zachan was the talk of the whole country, and as the old burgomaster, Appelmann, had heard at Friedrichswald about the horses and waggon, and his son's shameful knavery, he could think of nothing else but that the same rascal had stolen the Duke's feathers at So he took some faithful burghers with him, and set off for the forest, to try and find his lost son. At last, after many wanderings, a peasant, who was cutting wood, told them that he had seen the robber-band encamped in a thick wood near Rehewinkel; [Footnote: Two miles and a half from Stargard, and the present dwelling-place of the editor.] and when the miserable father and his burghers arrived at the place, there indeed was the robber-band stretched upon the long grass, and Sidonia seated upon the stump of a tree—for she must play the lute, while Johann, his godless son, was plaiting the long black hair of the handsome Sioli.

Methinks the knave must have felt somewhat startled when his father sprang from behind an oak, a dagger in his hand, exclaiming loudly, "Johann, Johann, thou lost, abandoned son! is it thus I find thee?"

The knave turned as white as a corpse upon the gallows, and his hands seemed to freeze upon the fair Sioli's hair; but the band jumped up and seized their arms, shouting, "Seize him! seize him!" The old man, however, cared little for their shouts; and still gazing on his son, cried out, "Dost thou not answer me, thou God-forgetting knave? Thou hast deceived and robbed thy own Prince. Answer me—who amongst all these is fitter for the gallows than thou art?"

So my knave at last came to his senses, and answered sullenly, "What did he want here? He had done nothing for him. He must earn his own bread."

Ille.—"God forgive thee thy sins; did I not take thee back as my son, and strive to correct thee as a true and loving father? Why didst thou run away from my house and the writing-office?"

Hic.—"He was born for something else than to lead the life of a dog."