As it was a very remote part of the town to which the old woman had brought him, he could hardly find his way through the narrow streets, and as, moreover, there was a great crowd of people wherever he went, he could only account for this by supposing there must be a dwarf somewhere in the neighbourhood for show, for he heard everywhere cries of, 'Only look at the ugly dwarf! Where does the dwarf come from? O! what a long nose he has, and how his head sits between his shoulders, and look at his brown ugly hands!' At any other time he would probably have followed the cry, for he was very fond of seeing giants and dwarfs, and any sort of curious, foreign costume, but now he was obliged to hurry and get to his mother. He felt quite weary when he arrived at the market. He found his mother still sitting there, and she had a tolerable quantity of fruit in the basket; he could not therefore have been sleeping long, but still it appeared to him, even at a distance, as if she were very melancholy, for she did not call to those coming past to buy, but supported her head on one hand, and on coming closer he thought she looked paler than usual. He hesitated as to what he should do; and at length mustering up courage, crept gently behind her, and putting his hand familiarly upon her arm, asked, 'Dear mother, what's the matter with you? are you angry with me?' The woman turned round, but started back with a shriek of terror, saying, 'What do you want with me, you ugly dwarf? Begone, begone! I do not like such jokes.' 'But mother, what is the matter with you?' asked Jacob, quite terrified; 'surely you must be unwell; why will you turn your son away from you?' 'I have told you already to be gone,' replied Hannah angrily; 'you will not get any money from me by your juggleries, you ill-favoured monster.' 'Surely God has deprived her of the light of her intellect,' said the dwarf, deeply grieved within himself; 'what shall I do to get her home? Dear mother, pray do listen to reason; only look well at me, I am indeed your son--your own Jacob.' 'Why this is carrying the joke too far,' she said to her neighbour; 'only look at that ugly dwarf; there he stands, and will no doubt drive away all my customers; nay, he even dares to ridicule my misfortune, telling me that he is my son, my own Jacob, the impudent fellow.' At this her neighbours rose, and began abusing him (every one knows that market women understand this), and reproaching him with making light of poor Hannah's misfortune, who seven years ago had had her beautiful boy kidnapped, and with one accord they threatened to fall upon him and tear him to pieces, unless he took himself off immediately.