At this moment, Krischan the coachman came in at the door: "Good evening, Madam, and here are the papers." "Are there no letters?" asked Frau Nüssler. "Yes," said Krischan, "there was a letter." "Why didn't you bring it then?" "Well," said Krischan, tossing his head, as if such stupidity could not be laid to his charge, "there was some trespass-money charged for it, and I hadn't so much by me." "What did it cost?" "Now just think of it, eight thalers! And they said there was a post-express or a post-payment, or something of that sort,--perhaps it was brought with post-horses,--and it was for a young Herr, who is our bridegroom." "Good gracious, Krischan, such an expensive letter as that! From whom could it be?" "I know something," said Krischan, "but I daren't say it," and he looked at Bräsig. "Before the Herr Inspector, you may say anything," said Frau Nüssler. "For all I care!" said Krischan. "It was from some woman-creature, but I have forgotten the name." "From a woman!" exclaimed Frau Nüssler, "to my son-in-law! and eight thalers to pay!" "Everything comes to light!" said Bräsig, "even the Pietists get found out!" "Yes; it all comes out!" said Krischan, going out of the room. "Krischan," Frau Nüssler sprang up, "you must go to Rahnstadt to-morrow with the rye; ask particularly about the name, and I will give you eight thalers, I must have the letter." "Good, Madam," said Krischan, "I will get it." "Bräsig," cried Frau Nüssler, throwing herself into her arm-chair, so that the poor old thing groaned with her weight, "what has my son-in-law to do with a woman?" "I don't know," said Bräsig. "I am wholly unacquainted with his affairs, since I don't trouble myself about secrets. Hear to the end, says Kotelmann, to-morrow we shall know." "But this Gottlieb, this quiet man!" exclaimed Frau Nüssler. "The Pietists are not wholly to be trusted," said Bräsig. "Never trust a Jesuit!" "Bräsig!" cried Frau Nüssler, and the old chair shrieked aloud, as she sprang up, "if there is something concealed here, I shall take back my child. If Rudolph had done it, I could have forgiven him, for he is a rough colt, and there is no secrecy about him; but Gottlieb? No, never in my life! One who can set himself up for a saint, and then do such a trick--don't come near me! I want nothing to do with such people!" And when Gottlieb came to the table that evening, his future mother-in-law looked at him askance, as if she were a shop clerk, and he were trying to cheat her with a bad groschen. And when he asked Lining, after supper, if she would take a glass of fresh water up to his room, she told him Lining had something else to do, and when Gottlieb turned to Marik, the waiting-maid, she told him he might go to the pump himself, he could do it as well as Marik. And so she speedily drew a magic circle around him, over which no woman might pass.