Some even began to unharness the horses,--but Johannes interposed with iron determination, snatched the whip from the countess, who never took her eyes from him, gave the noble animals the lash, and away they went through the living wall that was closing around them. A shout of rage arose, the carriage was pursued for a short distance, but it was out of sight in a few minutes, leaving behind only the unfortunate groom, cowering terrified in the middle of the road. Then the universal indignation was turned upon Johannes, who stood quietly there with the whip in his hand. He had delivered the stranger from just punishment, and had assisted her to escape,--he was in league with her. "You are one of her friends. You shall answer for her to us!" "I certainly will, good people," said Johannes calmly and kindly. "First let me do all that I can for the poor child, and then I will go with you to the burgomaster's or wherever else you choose." This simple answer entirely disarmed the rage of the crowd. "The gentleman is right, I know him," cried a newly-arrived peasant. It was the same man with whom Johannes had spoken upon his first visit to the castle. "Why did you help that bad woman to escape?" asked some. "Because she should be dealt with in an orderly manner. I promise you satisfaction, and much greater satisfaction than you would have in maltreating a woman." "He is a just gentleman, a brave man!" said the people one to another. "He takes it all upon himself,--that is honest!" "Come, then, good people, and show me where the Kellers live,--afterwards we will have a word together." The peasants assented, well content. "Yes, yes! that's all right!" They had not far to go to the wretched straw-thatched hut of the day-labourer Keller. A wooden flight of steps upon the outside of the hut led to the upper story,--the space beneath was used as a stable, and the one room above it, that served for sleeping room and dwelling-room, contained a large bed, an earthenware stove, two wooden chairs, and a table. Over the bed hung a carved crucifix, with a skull, and a vessel for holy water, and in the bed little Käthchen lay quiet and patient, almost smothered beneath the heavy coverlet, gazing at the by-standers with bewildered eyes. Her mother knelt by the bedside, weeping. Several women were trying to comfort her, telling her how quickly and well the broken limb would heal if she would only have a model of it in wax hung before the picture of the Holy Mother of God in the church. The waxen limbs of all kinds that already hung like a wreath around the sacred picture bore witness to the efficacy of this pious custom. Frau Keller must lose no time in presenting her offering,--for it was especially efficacious upon Assumption day. Frau Keller shook her head. She was obstinate in her grief, and did not believe in this kind of cure.