She left the room with her son. Tausdorf looked after for awhile, and then seemed lost in thought. After a short pause, Netz renewed the conversation by saying, "You are a native of Bohemia, then?" Tausdorf courteously replied, "My father settled some years ago in the hereditary domains of Austria as an imperial feodatory. I have the honour to be a native of Silesia." "Does any business call you back to your native land?" asked Netz, with increasing cordiality: "If I can serve you in any thing, you have only to say so; I know from my brother's own mouth that you were his very good friend." "I thank you for your kind proffers. For the present I have only to commend myself to your neighbourly good-will, for I think of settling shortly in the vicinity of Schweidnitz." "You will be heartily welcome to us, though you will find but sorry comfort now in this country." Tausdorf was astonished.--"How so?" "Oh, the burghers have got the upper hand of us nobles. Their wealth, their absurd privileges, have made them arrogant. A pitiful burgomaster of Schweidnitz will think himself greater than the emperor; and as to us, the whole mob of them look upon us with contempt. They need us not, they fear us not, and where they can do us any annoyance, they do it with delight." "The purse-pride of the citizens is, no doubt, particularly disgusting; but to be candid, we should not too severely judge the industrious mechanic, the clever merchant, the dexterous artist, or the man of learning, even though the consciousness and the satisfaction of their hardly-earned property should lead them too far. Our pride of birth, when carried to excess, is also a hateful vice; and we have much less to advance in its defence, because that on which we pride ourselves is only _inherited_, and not _earned_. For the rest, I have always thought that in these eternal feuds between the nobles and the citizens, the wrong was to be found on both sides; the right is always in the middle, and both parties can attain it only by mutual forbearance." "There you judge wrongly of these Silesian pedlers," exclaimed the wild Bieler: "If a noble were only to yield a finger to them, they would seize the whole man, and clap him into a pepper-bag. No, no, you must keep a tight hand over the people, and hardly let them breathe, or there will one day be an end of our old customs and sacred privileges." "So thought the nobles before the unlucky war of the peasants," said Tausdorf, "and Germany was turned into a desert by it." "Don't take it ill, Tausdorf," returned Netz; "in other respects you may be a brave knight; but if we were to follow your maxims, we should all be forced to fly the cities." Tausdorf shrugged up his shoulders at their incorrigible stubbornness, when Rasselwitz burst into the room, his face glowing with rage, and asked furiously, "Is not Francis Friend here?" "He was here a quarter of an hour ago," replied Netz; "perhaps you may yet find him at doctor Heidenreich's."