However, Mathis Knoups, who, with compressed lips, stood on the watch behind the door of his workshop, could not hear what he said.
But all this was nothing to the commotion which was caused on the following day—the Eve of St Rochus—in Haffert and on the Schei, by the arrival of twelve Prussian musicians, in faded light-green coats, sky-blue caps, and all sorts of brass instruments,—one or two of them of such a size that they curled all round the blower like serpents. They marched through Haffert playing all the way, drew up in a line before the dancing-tent, which was decked with flags and pennons, and then entered the town, accompanied by Crippled Manes, who now, armed with a big stick, marched in front, and acted the part of drum-major.
All through the night Mathis could still hear the shrill sound of the clarionet and the booming of the great bass instruments.
No need to ask whether Haffert _kermis_ was crowded! Everybody went to dance in the Prussian tent. The brewer had to go over twice a day with fresh supplies; and when Knoups came to complain to him, on the third day, that he had only tapped eight casks, it was resolved to cart eight casks away from the “Sun” to the tent over the way.
“Of course,” laughed Manes, “neighbours ought to help each other!”
When, two days later, the three heavily-laden waggons had rumbled off over the Prussian frontier, and Stammering Joob and Crippled Manes were marching away to the town, arm in arm, and not very sober, the latter turned back and shouted:
“Good-bye, Master Knoups! next year we’ll be neighbours again, for a time!”
“Low riff-raff, that come to steal the bread out of a man’s mouth!” said Knoups—who had heard it this time—to Geutruu. “Well, _that_ article’s spoilt for good and all; I shall have to put all my strength into my own trade!”
The following week, a notice, posted up on the Haffert Raadhuis, announced to all and sundry that tenders for the new roofing of the church were to be sent in to the authorities by that day fortnight.
“It’s no good _my_ sending in a paper,” thought Mathis; “the Curé and the burgomaster are all in the same boat, and the Curé will take good care I don’t get the contract.”
It may be supposed, therefore, that he looked amazed when Geutruu, returning from the town one rainy afternoon, stood still, right in front of him, and said: