nt from the fact that
the landlord of The Pike had once been obliged to detain him because he
could not pay the bill--though it was by no means large--in any other
coin than merry tales.

But even the best joke of the witty knight would have failed to produce
its effect on the listening waiter just now; for the gentlemen outside
were again discussing the Reuchlin controversy, and in doing so uttered
such odious words about the Cologne theologians, whom Dietel knew as
godly gentlemen who consumed an ample supply of food, that he grew hot
and cold by turns. He was a good man who would not hurt a fly. Yet, when
he heard things and opinions which his mother had taught him to hold
sacred assailed, he could become as angry as a savage brute. The little
impious blasphemer Eberbach, especially, he would have been more than
ready to lash with the best hazel rod which he had ever cut for his dead
father. But honest anger affords a certain degree of enjoyment, so it was
anything rather than agreeable to him to be called away.

The feather curler and his table companions wanted Kitzing wine, but it
was in the cellar, and a trip there would have detained him too long from
his post of listener. So he turned angrily back into the room, and told
the business men that princes, bishops, and counts were satisfied with
the table wine of The Blue Pike, which had been already served to them,
and the sceptre and crozier were of more importance than their twisted
feathers. "Those are not the wisest people," he added sagely, "who
despise what is good to try to get better. So stick to the excellent Blue
Pike wine and say no more about it!"

Without waiting for an answer from the astonished guests, he limped back
to his window to resume his listening. The conversation, however, had
already taken a new turn, for Dr. Peutinger was describing the Roman
monument which he had had put up in the courtyard of his Augsburg house,
but, as this interested Dietel very little, he soon turned his attention
to the high road, whence a belated guest might still come to The Blue
Pike.

The landlady's little kitchen garden lay between it and the river Main,
and there--no, it was no deception--there, behind the low hawthorn hedge,
a human figure was moving.

One of the vagabonds had certainly slipped into the garden to steal fruit
or vegetables, or even honey from the bee hives. An unprecedented
offence! Dietel's blood boiled, for the property of The Blue Pike