ing, as though her heart would break. "What is to become
of me," she sobbed, "when Peter comes home? He will certainly kill me
for having shown the tax gatherer the money! Nevertheless, what could I
do? It was impossible to have people say that Wise Peter was a beggarly
creature--I could not allow that!" and, a little re-assured, she dried
her eyes and went to taste the soup. It was nearly done, and tasted
deliciously. "Ah!" cried Silly Catharine, "the soup is better than
usual! It quite repays me for all to think that we still have the finest
cabbages!"

In the mean time, one of the reapers, who had drank less wine than the
others, woke up sober, and as soon as he found he could stand on his
legs, he ran post haste to the village to relate the wonderful tale. The
place being small and the gossips many, it was not half an hour before
the whole population knew the extraordinary occurrence that had taken
place. Even the cure, the magistrate, and the doctor rushed into the
street to hear the news, and a pretty uproar there was. "Said I not
truly that Wise Peter was in league with the Evil One?" exclaimed one,
"for only thus can the miracle of a spring of wine be accounted for."
"True, true!" cried the listeners; "a wizard he must be; and that of a
right dangerous sort!"

Just at this moment, the wagon of Wise Peter was seen coming along the
road. The impatient villagers could not wait for him to approach them,
but rushed toward the wagon and surrounded it on every side. "How now,
wretched wizard!" they one and all shouted; "dare you look us in the
face when we have found you out in your sorceries? Away with you to
prison!" and, so saying, they laid hold of Wise Peter, dragged him out
of the wagon, and bore him toward the magistrate. In vain the wretched
man begged for some explanation, declared a hundred times over that he
was no wizard, but an honest peasant; they only shouted, tauntingly, "A
pretty story for a man who turns his well springs into the finest wine!
no wizard, indeed! say, rather, a wizard of the worst kind!"

With these words, they hauled him before the magistrate, where, again,
the reaper repeated his story, adding, by way of proof, "If you don't
believe me, go and see the other reapers; there they lie drunk, where I
left them."

"You hear what this honest man says," said the magistrate. "We have long
suspected you of sorcery, but this proves the matter at once. Either you
must forfeit a hundred guilde