The other pair were not sitting in a warm room; the laborer lay in the cold cellar, and his wife crouched on her knees outside, before the cellar-window, in the fine, cold November rain; they were not close together, an iron grating divided them. "Jochen," whispered she, through the broken window-panes, "tell the truth." "They took it from me," was the reply. "Jochen, who?" "Eh, do I know?" said he, and it was the truth; he did not know who the woman was who had taken the black packet, in broad daylight, and on the public road, out of his waistcoat pocket, as he, not yet recovered from the intoxication of yesterday, and having just taken a couple of glasses on an empty stomach, was tumbling along towards Gallin. He did not lie, but he could not tell the truth; how could he confess that from him, a young, strong fellow, a woman had taken the two thousand thalers, on the open street? He could not do that, if it should cost him his life. "Jochen, you are lying. If you will not tell me the truth, tell it to our old inspector." No, to him, of all others, he could not tell the truth, for he had promised him he would not lie any more, and he had admonished him so earnestly,--he could not tell him. "Marik, get me my chisel, and a couple of thalers in money." "Jochen, what are you going to do?" "I will go away." "Jochen, Jochen! and leave me here, with the poor little ones?" "Marik, I must go; it will never go well with me here again," "Jochen, tell the truth, and it will be all right." "If you don't bring me the chisel and the money, I will take my life, this very night!" And here, also, there was much begging and pleading and talking, as there was upstairs in the warm room, but the truth would not come out, no more here than there, it was kept back, here as there, by the shame of confessing inconsiderate and disreputable actions, and here, also, the wife left her husband with a heavy heart. The first thing next morning came the news, setting all Pumpelhagen in an uproar, that the day-laborer, Regel, had broken out, and run away. The justice made preparations to have him arrested again, and rode off, homewards, with the Herr Notary. Axel was in a rage,--no one knew why; but it was with himself; and because he could shove the blame upon nobody else, for he himself had given orders that the man should be locked up in the cellar.