A couple of horn cups were filled with brandy tempered with water, and handed round. Cold as the weather was, there was no fire; but they kept themselves warmly stowed among the trusses of hay. In a little while, they grew quite genial. Anna plunged the only knife into the savoury pie, and dispensed its contents. Rudolf told all the news and gossip he could think of, which was listened to with avidity by Anna, and rewarded by many a short laugh from the Sandwirth. Johann lay along on the straw, eating as if he never would be satiated, hearing all, and saying nothing,--quite content with the present moment, especially when, in honour of old customs, Rudolf sang a ballad, and the Sandwirth told a fairy-tale. The story was this:-- "A young man, who had a fine cherry-tree, laden with fruit, in his garden, had the fruit stolen year after year by the fairies. Not guessing who were the thieves, and anxious to detect the culprits, he one year strewed the ground all round about the cherry-tree with fine ashes, that he might see the pillagers' footprints. Now, the 'little folk,' though a beautiful race, have ugly little webbed feet, of which they are much ashamed; for which reason they wear very long garments. Well, the next morning, the young man got up, and went out to examine the cherry-tree, which he could see at a glance had been stripped during the night. On examining the ashes, he found them covered with the impressions of little webbed feet, as if a flock of geese had crossed them. He guessed the fairies to be the thieves; and they were so angry with him for detecting them, that, though they robbed his garden no more, his cherry-tree never bore fruit again." Hour after hour, they continued talking; till Johann, unable to keep his eyes open any longer, crawled up to his straw-bed in the loft, which Rudolf was to share with him. Rudolf, now that his friend was strengthened and refreshed, referred to the Emperor's letter, and earnestly pleaded with him that the offer of protection should be accepted. He dwelt on the state of Europe,--as far as anything was known of it in the Tyrol,--on the little probability there was that any good would result from continuing to hold out, or from awaiting another rising.