"With such a one as me," cried the girl, "what sort of one am I then? I'm a poor maid and have had none to care for me, but I've done no one any harm, nor set fire to any one's house. I've no need to put up with anything from _thee_--know that." Wally started as though stung by a snake. "A wench art thou, a shameless servant wench that throws thyself on a lad's neck before every one," she cried, forgetting herself and every thing, so that the people crowded round her. "What? who? whose neck?" stammered the girl, turning pale. "Shall I tell thee? Shall I?" "Yes, speak out; I have a good conscience, and the mistress of the Lamb here, she can testify that it is not true." "Indeed--not true! is it not true that two years ago, when thou hardly knew Joseph, he dragged thee with him over the Hochjoch, and had to carry thee half the way because thou made as though thou could walk no farther? Is it not true thou'st never let him be since, so that everyone names him and thee together? Is it not true thou keeps Joseph away from other maids that have better right and were better wives for him than thou--a vagabond serving-girl? Is it not true that only the other day, when he had fought the bull, thou fell on his neck before the whole village as if thou'd been his promised wife? Is none of that true?" Afra covered her face with her hands, and wept aloud, "Oh, Joseph, Joseph, that I should have to put up with this." "Be quiet, Afra," said the good natured landlady consolingly, "she has betrayed herself, it's only her anger because Joseph doesn't run after her and won't burn his fingers for her like the other lads. If only Joseph were here he would make her tell a different story." "Yes, I can well believe that he wouldn't leave his pretty sweetheart in the lurch," said Wally, with a laugh so terribly sharp and shrill that the sound re-echoed from the hills like a cry of pain. "Such a sweetheart, who hangs about his neck, is no doubt more convenient than one who must first be won, and with whom it might come to pass that he'd have to take himself off again with scorn and mockery. The proud bear-hunter would no doubt sooner mate with such a one than with the Vulture-Maiden!" The innkeeper now stepped forward. "Hearken," he said, "I've had enough of this; the lass is a good lass--my wife and I, we answer for her, and we'll let no harm come to her. Do thou take back thy words; I order it--dost understand?" Again Wally laughed aloud, "Landlord," she said. "Did thou ever hear tell that the Vulture lets itself be ordered by the Lamb?" Everyone laughed at the play of words, for the host of the Lamb was proverbially called a "Lamperl,"[1] because he was a weak good-natured man who would put up with anything. "Aye, thou deserves thy name, thou Vulture-Wally--that thou dost." "Make way there," Wally now exclaimed, "I've had enough of this--this threshing of empty straw. Let me pass!" and she would have pushed Afra on one side under the doorway.