Meanwhile, the night drew on. Only a few loungers remained. The people of the inn, who had sat up the night before, were anxious to get to bed. I heard the landlady yawn and mutter: “Oh, dear! How long before we can get some sleep?” Most of the tipplers comprehended the force of this remark and withdrew; only one remained, sitting half asleep before his glass. The watchman, going his rounds, woke him up and he went off grumbling and staggering. “At last!” I said to myself; “this is good luck; Mother Grédel has gone to bed and Annette will not be slow in getting me out.” With this agreeable prospect in view, I had already stretched out my stiffened limbs, when Dame Grédel’s voice reached my ear: “Annette, go and lock up, and don’t forget to bolt the door! I am going down cellar.” It appeared that this was a wise custom of hers to assure herself that everything was right. “But, madame,” stammered the girl, “the cask isn’t empty. You needn’t bother to--” “Mind your own business,” interrupted the mistress, whose candle was already lighting up the passageway. I had barely time to squat down again behind the cask, when the old woman, stooping beneath the low, dingy ceiling, passed from one keg to another, mumbling as she went: “Oh! the little wretch! How she lets the wine leak. I’ll teach her to close the spigots tighter; did ever any one see the like?” The candle threw great shadows against the damp wall. I huddled closer and closer. Suddenly, just as I thought the visit happily ended, and was beginning to breathe easier again, I heard the old creature give a sigh so long and so full of woe that I knew something unusual was happening. I risked just the least glance, and I saw Dame Grédel Dick, her under jaw dropped and her eyes sticking out of her head, staring at the bottom of the barrel behind which I lay. She had caught sight of one of my feet underneath the joist that served as a wedge to keep the cask in place. She evidently believed she had discovered the chief of the robbers concealed there for the purpose of strangling her during the night. I formed a sudden resolution. “Madame, for God’s sake, have pity on me!” I cried: “I am--” Without looking at me, or listening to a word I said, she set up an ear-splitting shriek and started up the stairs as quickly as her great weight would permit. Seized with inexpressible terror, I clung to her skirt and went down on my knees. This only made matters worse. “Help! seize the assassin! Oh, my God! release me! Take my money! Oh! Oh!”