He despatched Sophia (as red as a furnace and loudly dissentient, though forced to obey) for the locksmith and his breaching implements; however, she quite made up her mind to come back with a lie, not with a locksmith. When she had marched off he fetched Fecht, the cobbler, up, to be at once his witness of and his assistant in that which he proposed to accomplish. The shoe-stitcher crept into the room softly at his heels; the phthisic haircurler went up to the canary-cage and addressed the bird imprisoned therein (tapping the while with his tongs on the gate of this fortress of Engelsburg) as follows: "I _know_ you are in there, honourable Sir, make a move; there's nobody here but me, as yet (there'll soon be more). I can break the cupboard open with my tongs and let you out." Laying his ear close to the door of this Spandau, he heard the captive sigh. "Ah! you are puffing and panting a little, honourable gentleman," said the wigmaker; "I am here at the door by myself now. When the locksmith comes and breaks it open, we shall all see you, and I'll call the whole house; but all I shall ask to let you jump out now, quietly, and be off unseen, will be a mere trifle. Give me that hat of yours, and a shilling or two, and give me your custom." At length the miserable prisoner knocked upon the door and said, "I _am_ in here; just let me out, will you, my man, and I'll do all you say. I can help, from the inside, to break open the door." The wigmaker and the cobbler applied their battering apparatus to the "parloir" of this donjon-keep, and the captive bounded forth. During the breaking open of the gates of jubilee the friseur parleyed or negotiated a little more, and amerced the anchorite in the locksmith's fee; at last, bringing Rosa forth, like Pallas in her mail, when she issued from Jove's cranium into the light of day, "The landlord," said Fecht, "couldn't have managed the job without me." Rosa opened his eyes wide at the sight of this auxiliary deliverer from the house of bondage, took off the sweet-smelling hat (which the cobbler immediately clapped on to his own head), shed some drops of golden rain from his waistcoat-pocket upon the pair, and, in dread of them and of the locksmith's arrival, fled home bareheaded in the dark. The friseur, whose bald pate was so near to the triple crown of the emperors of old, and the popes of the present (for the eagle gave him a crown, the Venner a hat, and his wife had nearly placed something else----),--however, the friseur, in high satisfaction of this new martyr-crown of felt, which he had been envying the Venner the possession of all the afternoon, went back with it to the shooting-ground, that he might have the gratification of marching home in company with his co-emperor, attended by their subjects and their vassals. The wigmaker took his hat off to his royal brother Siebenkæs (that hat so much more worthy of a co-king than his former one), and told him something of what had been happening.