"Now, just look at me, Bailiff," said Friedrich, and he placed himself before the Bailiff as erect as he could make himself; "I'm not a lawyer, nor yet a doctor, but I have sound bones, and my hands speak of work. And if you don't trust your own eyes you can ask my Miller." "Yes, and do you know what he'll say? He'll say you are steady enough and understand a thing or two, but that your sayings are not the sort to 'tice a dog away from a warm stove (oven)." "I'll soon show you whether they are. But now, Bailiff, will you give me your Hanchen?" "Damnation!" cried the Bailiff. "I thought at first it was only a joke. But now I do believe you're in earnest." "I _was_ joking about the farm and your laying yourself on the shelf, Bailiff," said Friedrich, "for your Fritz must of course have the farm. But I am in earnest about Hanchen, and I shall easily get a farm." "You boaster!" said the Bailiff; "there now, that's one of your sayings, which, as I said, will 'tice no dog away from a stove." "I will show you if they can or not," said Friedrich. "You braggart!" said the Bailiff, getting up; "I shall go home, and you can go and catch your Frenchman by yourself." "I have got him," said Friedrich. "You sack of lies!" again cried the Bailiff. "Bailiff," said Friedrich; "if the Frenchman stands before you in three minutes, and so my sayings entice a dog away from an oven, will you give me your Hanchen?" And he held his hand out to him.--"Shake hands upon it." "There's my hand," cried the Bailiff; "just to show you that you are nothing but a boasting braggart." And they shook hands on it. Friedrich gave a broad grin and stooped down to the mouth of the oven: "Mossoo, allong ici--allong ici."--And what should creep out into the light but the Frenchman! "Eh! Damn...!" cried the Bailiff. "_Pardon, Monsieur_," said the Frenchman. "Who has won the bet now, Bailiff?" asked Friedrich. "Here is the Frenchman and the dog too. Who is to have your Hanchen now?" "Prussian vagabond," cried the Bailiff, and raised his stick again, "Do you think you can fool me into this? _You_ have my Hanchen...! I would rather ..." "Put down your stick, Bailiff, you frighten the Frenchman. Better come over here and help me to secure him; we can talk about the bet afterwards." "_Pardon_," threw in the Chasseur. "Pardong here, and pardong there," cried Friedrich; "what do you mean by running away from the beech-tree where I had laid you comfortably. This time I'll treat you in my fashion; Mamsell Westphalen is not here now," and, so saying, he cut the buttons off the Frenchman's trowsers: "And now, allong, avang!"--And in this way, they set off back through Demzin towards Pinnow.