"The Schrandeners, dear _Herr Baron_, are really terrible people. I always have said so. I said so many times to my dear wife. You knew her, _Herr Baron_. Why, of course, she often took the little _Junker_ in her arms, little thinking that----"
"Keep to the point, if you please," Boleslav interrupted.
"'Marianne,' I used to say, 'these Schrandeners, when once they get an idea into their heads, nothing will move them.' Once they took it into their heads not to drink my brandy. Good, pure, beautiful Wacholder, _Herr Baron_. In the same way they've now got it into their heads not to bury the old noble lord, and--well, upon my word, no God and no devil will force them to do it. It's no good _your_ trying either, _Herr Baron_. I'll tell you why. The hearse belongs to the corporation, and they won't let you have it. Horses, too, they wouldn't let out.... As for bearers--dear God! Go round the village and see if you can find one, and if you can, see if he is not well flogged for it quarter of an hour afterwards. Oh! these Schrandeners! And then there is the _Herr Pastor_--who really in the end has the most voice in the matter. Go to the _Herr Pastor_, and hear what _he_ says. Putting ceremonials and paternosters out of the question, you won't even get the coffin made."
"We shall see," said Boleslav, gnashing his teeth. He felt his spirit of resistance rise, the more clearly he saw the web that hatred and malice were weaving around him.
"You _shall_ see," exclaimed old Merckel in badly concealed triumph, "if you wish it, _Herr Baron_."
He opened the door of the tap-room, from whence proceeded a low hum of many voices. Half the village seemed to have collected there during Boleslav's interview with the mayor.
"Hackelberg! come here!" he called, and then hurriedly banged the door to again, for he saw hands laid on it that threatened to tear it off its hinges.
"If he has got over his debauch of yesterday, _Herr Baron_, he will certainly come and himself give you his views on the subject." For a moment the little lynx eyes sparkled with malignant joy. Then resuming his benevolent patriarchal smile, he went on, twisting the amber heart.
"You have repudiated my friendship, young man. You have insulted me, and shown no respect for my grey hairs--I don't resent it. You wouldn't have done it if you had known how I, at the risk of my life--for if the Schrandeners had got wind of it they would have done me to death--how I saved many a time the noble baron, of blessed memory, from starvation. Ask the _Fräulein_.