This discovery and turn of affairs sensibly interfered with the rejoicings of Klaus; and no wonder! For whilst he was still warm with the idea of bringing his bride home to a well-stocked property, he had to learn that he was actually as poor as a church-mouse. What could he do? He was not long in forming a resolution. House and farm, field and coppice, were in pretty good condition; no mortgages, as far as he knew, cumbered the estate. Surely, till better times came, there would be no difficulty in borrowing? At all events, the effort should be made. Klaus went to Zittau to beg the loan of a thousand dollars from the trustees of pious legacies. He stammered out his request to the board with as much confidence as he could command; but whether his awkward way and manner, or his unsteady look, or the wealth which it was supposed he possessed, or the nickname which he bore--whether one or all of these gave rise to suspicion and alarm, it is very certain that although friend Nicholas received fine words enough to tear his pocket open, not one farthing of money did he catch, but was fain to return home as rich as he had come. This was a heavy blow to the young farmer. As usual with him in seasons of trouble, he thought of the Dwarf, and cursed him. Then he prayed for a sight of the monster, only till he had wreaked his vengeance on him; and then he went like a drunken man homeward. To his intense vexation, as often as he relieved himself of an execration, his ear was assailed with a scornful peal of laughter. It escorted him to his very door, and there left him mad with rage, because he could by no means perceive whence the mockery proceeded. Once at home again, he repeated the rummaging of rooms, cellars, and corners, in the still unextinguished hope of finding something, were it only paper bonds, of which he had known his father, at one time, to possess several. His search availed him nothing--the chests were empty--there was not an atom of money left. As if this were not misery enough, he perceived, with inexpressible grief, that the rafters of the house, the wainscoting of the rooms, were beginning to totter and crack so fearful, that it would be impossible to reside much longer beneath them. And oh, sorrow upon sorrow! those unpleasant gentlemen, the lawyers, were daily asking payment, and threatening an execution. Klaus grew very wretched. Breathing time, at all events, was necessary, and so he sold the tavern and a considerable portion of his land. With part of the proceeds he appeased the blood-suckers; and with what remained, he purposed repairing his cracked and rickety tenement.