In Vienna all fell out as he had wished, and after forwarding his plans there, he returned home. As he reached the gate of the town he wondered what new developments would greet his return; he had a foreboding something strange was preparing, nor was he mistaken. For when he came to his own house, there outside sat Böske in tears, surrounded by various bits of furniture, which had evidently been thrown out into the street. "Why, what in the world have you got there?" asked Ráby, amazed, of the weeping maid-servant. "What have I got?" cried Böske, "why, honoured master, don't you know your own furniture when you see it? These are all our things, and they have turned them out here, and me with them." "What?" yelled Ráby, as he leapt from the coach. But no answer was needed, for just then the door opened, and out came the notary. He leaned with the utmost sang-froid against the door, while he filled with tobacco his clay pipe, from which he proceeded to puff eddies of smoke right into Ráby's face. He was quite drunk, and behind him stood a couple of boon companions. "Pray what has happened here?" inquired the astonished master of the house. "Only that I am taking possession of my own property," was the insolent answer. "Your property, why it's mine, considering I paid the price for it in due form," retorted the puzzled Ráby. "But I repent of having sold it, and I've taken possession again," rejoined the notary, as he re-lit his pipe. "And now since you, my fine gentleman, have nothing further to look for in this town, and are no longer the master here, you may just pack off and go!" "But I paid you ready-money," remonstrated Ráby, his voice fairly shaking with rage and shame. "You'd better bring it before the tribunal," sneered the notary, and he laughed so immoderately that the pipe dropped out of his mouth. Ráby heard the laughter echoed in the yard without by a dozen other voices. He strove no longer. He told Böske he would send a coach to fetch her and the furniture away, and till then, she must wait there. Then he hurried off to his uncle's and told his story. "This is beyond a joke," said the old man. "We will not stand this sort of thing from these insolent wretches." "But to whom can I complain?" asked Ráby. "To the judge, Petray, who is my personal enemy; to the county court where I am accused of bigamy and scoffed at?" "To none of the lot! There is an edict which provides that whoso appropriates unlawfully the property of another, can himself be turned out by the lawful owner." "But where can we procure the methods of force necessary to drive these people out?" demanded Ráby. "The whole township is in their pay. The municipality gives no formal help, and the military would not move in the matter. If I myself incite the people to act, I shall be accused of instigating to violence."