“Rights? But what are they? Is it your rights to enter a peaceful dwelling and rob its owner? If these are your rights, why are they _yours_ more than the rights of all the rest of the world? What better title have you to your homes than I to mine? And if you may enter and rob my castle, what protection has any one of you for his own cottage, which some one may say it is _his_ right to enter and destroy? Poor churls! ye are deceived, and will but bring ruin upon yourselves. Retire before it is too late, and ye shall yet be pardoned!” Whatever might have been the Baron’s intention in uttering {093}these words, I am sorry to say that they had no conciliatory effect upon those to whom they were addressed. Shouting aloud and brandishing their weapons, they were about to advance upon the venerable nobleman, when, from a side door, some new personages suddenly appeared upon the scene. Pushed along in a chair upon wheels, to which she was securely bound, came the Baroness, in the custody of several peasants, who were under the more immediate guidance and control of Martha Scweinvolt. The latter, with a face beaming with delight, followed triumphantly behind, whilst the false heir, weeping and howling piteously, trotted by the side of the chair, driven forward by the peasants who ushered the Baroness into the room. The poor Baroness presented a spectacle sad indeed to behold. She was in a towering rage, but at the same time perfectly helpless, and foamed at the mouth with fury as she strove in vain to get loose from the cords with which she was tied. When these new arrivals had advanced into the room between the Baron and the peasants, there was a momentary pause, during which Martha stepped in front of the chair upon which the poor Baroness was fastened, and, pointing at her with outstretched arm and scornful gesture, addressed the peasants in these words:-- “Here she is, good people; here is the source of all your ills--the cause of all your woes! The poor fool of a Baron would do no harm but for this vile woman. See what a passion she is in now! This is her usual temper; and no wonder she is such a tyrant, and makes her husband the same!” At {094}this point the Baroness broke in, having previously-vented her rage in sobs and incoherent shrieks. “Let me loose! let me loose!” she cried. “You riff-raff--you vagabonds--you traitors--let me loose directly! This wretched creature has deceived you all; she is a worthless, good-for-nothing hussy. Let me loose, or I vow you shall all be hanged!” And the Baroness shrieked for fury again, her temper being by no means improved by the false heir, who, despite all his fears for himself, seeing her securely tied, could not resist the temptation of giving her a fearful pinch in the fleshy part of the arm, for which a peasant instantly knocked him down.