He was no longer a young man, and the new tenant pitied him. "The poor old fellow is out of his senses," he said. And he let him sleep in one of his barns. One of the mill cats found out that there was a new warm bed in this barn, and she came and lived there too, and kept away the mice. One night, however, Mrs. Pussy disturbed the Miller's rest. She was in and out of the window constantly, and meowed horribly into the bargain. "It seems a man can't even sleep in peace," said the Miller. "If this happens again, you'll go into the mill-race to sing to the fishes." The next night the cat was still on the alert, and the following morning the Miller tied a stone round her neck, and threw her into the water. "Oh, spare the poor thing, there's a good soul," said a bystander. "I won't," said the Miller. "I told her what would happen." When his back was turned, however, the bystander got Pussy out, and took her home with him. Now the cat was away, the mice could play; and they played hide-and seek over the Miller's nightcap. It came to such a pass that there was no rest to be had. "I won't go to bed, I declare I won't," said the Miller. So he sat up all night in an arm-chair, and threw everything he could lay his hands on at the corners where he heard the mice scuffling, till the place was topsy-turvy. Towards morning he lit a candle and dressed himself. He was in a terrible humour; and when he began to shave, his hand shook and he cut himself. The draughts made the flame of the candle unsteady too, and the shadow of the Miller's nose (which was a large one) fell in uncertain shapes upon his cheeks, and interfered with the progress of the razor. At first he thought he would wait till daylight. Then his temper got the better of him. "I won't," he said, "I won't; why should I?" So he began again. He held on by his nose to steady his cheeks, and he gave it such a spiteful pinch that the tears came into his eyes. "Matters have come to a pretty pass, when a man's own nose is to stand in his light," said he. By and by a gust of wind came through the window. Up flared the candle, and the shadow of the Miller's nose danced half over his face, and the razor gashed his chin. Transported with fury, he struck at it before he could think what he was doing. The razor was very sharp, and the tip of the Miller's nose came off as clean as his whiskers. When daylight came, and he saw himself in the glass, he resolved to leave the place. "I won't stay here to be a laughing-stock," said he. As he trudged out on to the highway, with his bundle on his back, the Baron met him and pitied him. He dismounted from his horse, and leading it up to the Miller, he said: