eway built because a mare
of mine had broken her leg out there on the road leading to the
village. Well, how much is it?" he asked, and with some trouble got
out the few groschen demanded by the gate keeper from under his cloak,
which was fluttering in the wind. "Yes, old man," he added, picking up
the leading reins as the latter muttered "Quick, quick!" and cursed
the weather; "if this tree had remained standing in the forest it
would have been better for me and for you." With this he gave him the
money, and started to ride on.

He had hardly passed under the toll-bar, however, when a new voice
cried out from the tower behind him, "Stop there, horse-dealer!" and
he saw the castellan close a window and come hurrying down to him.
"Well, I wonder what he wants!" Kohlhaas asked himself, and halted
with his horses. Buttoning another waistcoat over his ample body, the
castellan came up to him and, standing with his back to the storm,
demanded his passport.

"My passport?" queried Kohlhaas. Somewhat disconcerted, he replied
that he had none, so far as he knew, but that, if some one would just
describe to him what in the name of goodness this was, perhaps he
might accidentally happen to have one about him. The castellan, eying
him askance, retorted that without an official permit no horse-dealer
was allowed to cross the border with horses. The horse-dealer assured
him that seventeen times in his life he had crossed the border without
such a permit; that he was well acquainted with all the official
regulations which applied to his trade; that this would probably prove
to be only a mistake; the castellan would please consider the matter
and, since he had a long day's journey before him, not detain him here
unnecessarily any longer. But the castellan answered that he was not
going to slip through the eighteenth time, that the ordinance
concerning this matter had been only recently issued, and that he must
either procure the passport here or go back to the place from which he
had come. After a moment's reflection, the horse-dealer, who was
beginning to feel bitter, got down from his horse, turned it over to a
groom, and said that he would speak to Squire Tronka himself on the
subject. He really did walk toward the castle; the castellan followed
him, muttering something about niggardly money-grubbers, and what a
good thing it was to bleed them; and, measuring each other with their
glances, the two entered the castle-hall.

It h