that I had likened her to one they would have said that she was marking a point far above boiling. Willgans who had at first been near the door on her side of the carriage, drew back a little, because she once, without uttering a sound or bending forward, stretched out her hand and seizing his curly red hair nearly pulled out a handful, her eyes shining and glaring in the dusk of the early morning like those of a beagle when chasing a hare. "Mercy! I say look at her!" cried Willgans. "Father Düsing! help!--Mercy! Look at the wretch! Do give her a knock over the knuckles." But before father Düsing could free him from her clutches, brave old Henny had thrust his nose down on the carriage door two or three times, so that the blood trickled down his face. "Mercy! Help I say! This is not to be borne; wait a bit and I'll ...."--"Stop!" cried Rührdanz, "you can't blame her, lad, for revenging herself according to the malice of her nature, so take no notice this time, but you can tell the Grand Duke all about it, and can show him your nose, which will bear witness to the way she has treated you." Henny said nothing, and the procession moved on again. When they reached the border of the estate the labourers sent their wives and children home, and about seven o'clock the prisoners and their guard entered Rahnstädt slowly and solemnly. Uncle Bräsig was stretched out on the window seat in his room smoking, and meditating on the heroic deeds he had done on the previous evening.--Kurz was in a very bad humour although he had not been at the fraternity ball, and was going about his shop grumbling and scolding: "The stupid ass! The idiot! Wait till I catch him!" After a time he came, I mean Mr. Süssmann by "he." He danced over the threshold, and Kurz laying both hands on the counter looked as if he were preparing to jump over it and spring upon his assistant before he was well in the shop, but he thought better of it and waited. "Good morning, chief, chiefer, chiefest!" cried Mr. Süssmann, coming in with a clatter and rattle of everything in the shop that could make a noise, and seating himself on the edge of a herring barrel with his hat cocked very much on one side, went on: "Good morning, Kurzie, woortsie, poortsie!"--Before he had time to make any more rhymes on his master's name, Kurz sprang upon him, pulled his hair with both hands, flung his hat into the herring barrel, and then dragged him further into the shop by the whiskers. Mr. Süssmann clutched blindly behind him for something to hold on by, and chanced to seize the spigot of a barrel of oil, his struggles were so great that the spigot came out, and the oil began to run out of the hole.--"Hang it!" cried Kurz. "My oil, my oil!" and letting Mr. Süssmann go, he stuck the forefinger of his right hand into the hole in the barrel, Mr. Süssmann who still had the spigot in his hand, waived it round his head in triumph, and as mad or intoxicated