"Fritz," said the Frau Amtshauptmann to me, "run over to Baker Witte's and see if his daughter would not like to send something to him." Now began the packing. In a few minutes it was done; and, just as everything was in the cart, Strüwingken appeared, carrying an immense basket of milk-rolls and sausages. Fieka had now taken her seat in the waggon, and the Herr Amtshauptmann had finished his letter; as he gave it to Fieka he called Heinrich aside, and said to him--"So you are Joe Voss's son, who has been so long at law with the Miller?" "Yes, Herr, but do not take it ill. My father was somewhat obstinate and had set his heart upon it; but it's about that I came over here. I have already spoken of it to the Miller and to Fieka, and if I have my way it will all be settled soon." "My son," said the Amtshauptmann, and shook him by the hand, "I will tell you something;--you please me. But I will tell you something else;--you have taken upon yourself to protect the Miller's Fieka. If you let a hair of her head be touched, never dare to appear before my eyes again." So saying he turned round, and went into my mother's room again, and said to her--"A splendid girl that, my friend!" "What did the Herr Amtshauptmann say to you?" asked Fieka after Heinrich had seated himself, and they had set off. "Oh, nothing particular," said Heinrich. "But you will catch cold," he added wrapping her up in the old Herr's cloak, and then driving rapidly down the street. They had not gone far, when they were met by the Stemhagen folks who had been following the French and the prisoners. Fritz Sahlmann, of course, was foremost of all. What a picture he looked! Just as if he had been working all day long in brick-maker's clay. "The Burmeister has escaped," he shouted out to them down the street. "The Burmeister has made off across the country on old Bräsig's brown mare. _I_ gave him the signal and off he went." "What are you talking about, boy?" said the shoemaker's wife, who was looking out over her half door watching for her husband. "Yes, neighbour," said Tröpner the captain of the fire-brigade who now approached; "the Burmeister's off, but they have given your husband something to remember. You had better make him a poultice of saffron and rye-flour, and lay it between his shoulders where the Frenchman tickled him with the butt of his musket." The news ran through the town like wildfire: "The Burmeister has got out of the hands of the French on Bräsig's brown mare;" and Luth burst into my mother's room looking as if Easter and Whitsuntide had fallen on the same day, and he had been ordered to have the pleasure that the Stemhagen folk allowed themselves at these seasons all at once. "Frau Burmeister," he cried, "don't be alarmed--Good news, Herr Amtshauptmann;--good news Frau Amtshauptmann! Our Herr Burmeister has escaped from the French--"