“Let them come,” cried George, in a passion. “Then we shall see who is in the right. They will find out why you locked Tertschka in; how you maltreated the poor girl for years, made her life miserable with your shameful proposals, and took away her hard-earned wages as well as the money her mother left to her--to say nothing of that poor woman’s death, which is on your conscience, too! And they will also discover how you treat the poor, defenseless workmen here, how you grow fat on the sweat and blood of their labor--!” George stopped. The weight and truth of these accusations filled the foreman’s cup to overflowing, and he completely lost all self-control. His face took on the color of death, foam stood on his lips, his eyes started almost out of his head, and with a cry that might have come from a wounded steer he threw himself upon George with knife swinging in air. The latter had seized the hammer, and now brought it down with a thud upon the other’s breast. The foreman swayed and fell moaning to the ground, the dark blood streaming from his mouth. For a moment there was silence; a mute, desolate horror held all present. George stood there like David by the body of Goliath. “Resi, Resi!” he called suddenly, breaking open the cellar door with a few sharp blows. “You are free!” “Jesu Maria!” she cried, hastening out and beating her hands together as she gazed at the dead man. “He is dead! Oh, George! George! They will take you to prison now and convict you for murder!” “Let them; I will answer them. These people here will bear me witness that he attacked me with a knife. Go down,” addressing the men, “and tell them that the laborer George Huber has killed the foreman.” It was some time before any one could make up his mind to go. George sat down with Tertschka in front of the house; she wept constantly. Sometimes he gently stroked her face. At last two gentlemen from the railway offices appeared and a policeman. “We will have to give him up to the authorities,” said the policeman. “He is a soldier on furlough.” The policeman tried to comfort poor, heartbroken Tertschka, telling her that the affair would not look very black for the prisoner if the facts were reported correctly. He even allowed her to sit at his side in the post-chaise in which they were to take George to Wiener-Neustadt. So they rode out into the night, while the rain fell in torrents, and the dead man, whom they had left behind, was taken to his last resting-place.