It was a tragic situation! How could he ever hope to leave this prison unnoticed? The only window was barred, and there was no other exit except through the room and across the hall! It was horrible! More than once did Paul scratch his head. As a measure of precaution he began to take off his boots, and, together with his trumpet, he hung them across his shoulders in order to have his arms and hands free in case of need. His situation was the more painful for the proximity of his beloved; he saw her shadow on the wall and ceiling, he heard her pitiful sobs, which showed him how helpless were the words of her mother and of the maids to comfort her--he knew only too well why Eva Barbara would not be comforted. How despicable he seemed to himself, crouching in his corner! Meanwhile the uproar in the house continued; by the zeal with which all nooks and corners were searched he could judge what store the farmer set upon his discovery, and at the same time how hot a reception was awaiting him if he were found. Time seemed endless until the peasant came back into the room shivering with cold, and declared--to Paul’s infinite relief, “Those Rottenstein fellows shall pay dearly for this hubbub! Thunder and lightning! Those fools! It’s clear as day that Paul Schülzle is not in this house. Like as not he got away from them while they were thumping on the door for dear life! He can’t crawl into a rat’s hole, I take it, and he’s not invisible--we should have found him sure as pop if he were in the house. Every corner has been searched--every room except the _rafenetle_, and there he can’t--humph, the devil! There is no knowing! Never say die!” Terror took Paul’s breath away--whither, oh whither? He heard the old man’s wife say fretfully, “Go along with you! Have you lost your senses? How could anybody get into this room, not to mention the _rafenetle_?” But he did not wait to hear the result of this intervention, and with an alacrity worthy of a better cause he crawled under the bed nearest him. This was no easy thing to do; first his boots and his trumpet hindered him, and then he found under the bed a collection of band-boxes, jars, and baskets filled with eggs, which he cautiously pushed aside, arranging them in such fashion that in case of need they might serve as a barrier to screen him from view. One round basket of eggs he very nearly knocked over; the eggs were still rolling and rumbling about in their receptacle as the farmer entered the _rafenetle_ saying, “That’s all very well, but there is no knowing!” The farmer examined the clothing hanging along the panels, then, sure enough, he put his candle on the floor and looked under the beds--but for the boxes and baskets the poor devil had been lost. So the farmer went back into the sitting-room grumbling, and Paul heard him say, “There’s nothing to be seen of him! Now I’ll have a word to say to those Rottenstein lads!”