Thereupon a heated debate took place in the hall and in the courtyard, which Paul could not understand. At last the farmer clapped the window to, sent the servants to bed, and came back into the room panting with ire. “So there!” he roared, “we are well rid of the musician, and of that fellow Martin as well! It is well--quite well so! About Martin I am rather sorry, but you never cared for him much, Eva Barbara, so let him go--there’ll be no lack of suitors. And now, stop crying, child! Go to bed and sleep! But there’s one thing you must promise me, Eva Barbara: be sure you don’t so much as look at that trumpeter again,--that’s all over, d’ye hear me? Eh, will you promise me that?” “Now hush, don’t say another word, and leave the poor lass in peace!” interrupted his wife. “Have you forgotten that this whole business is your fault? Now go to bed, dear child. Don’t you be troubled; I’ll let no harm come to ye! Go now, the Lord will turn it all to a blessing!” To lose no word of this conversation, which made Paul’s heart beat faster, he had kept quite still, and now it was too late to leave his uncomfortable place under the bed. The maids left the room and the old people hastened to get into bed. Shame, rage, fear, and contrition joined to raise Paul’s bitter indignation against himself. So this was what his stubbornness had brought him--to lie in fear and trembling, shaking with cold, under the bed of the man whose son he might have been! To hide like a thief, to be so disgracefully situated that he dared not stir for fear of discovery. Paul ground his teeth. Suppose to-night’s adventures should become known! Holy Virgin! to think of the laughter and the scoffs! The peasant threw himself from side to side in a restless manner, greatly to the discomfort of his guest, who was vastly alarmed every time the bedstead creaked. And when his wife on the other side began to sigh audibly, the farmer said, “I say, old woman, I can’t sleep. I can’t for the life of me get that vile affair out of my head!” “It’s just the same with me!” was the troubled answer. “A most provoking piece of business it is, confound it!” “Swearing don’t make it any better! Don’t be foolish! The lass likes him better than Martin; there’s no denyin’ it! It’s not so very dreadful that he walked home with her!” “That’s not what I mean!” growled the peasant. “The lass will not be willing to let Paul slip; and, to tell the truth, for all I’m so enraged with the fellow, I like him better now than all the other lads. _That’s_ where the trouble lies!” “Good gracious! If that is what you mean----” “I might have known what was coming!” interrupted the farmer angrily. “There’s no such thing as talking sensible to you women-folks. It’s all over between the lass and Paul Schülzle, now and forever, I tell you. Don’t you say another word about that, whatever you do!”