told me of his latest pleasure.

"I kept them locked up in my room as long as the soldiers were here.
Soldiers have a great liking for such tender morsels. I used to be so
myself."

I knew, of course, that he was talking about his pigs, and he added as
a sort of consolation:

"Yes, yes, Mr. Ex-Burgomaster"--he gave me my title--"yes, yes, you are
also retired at last, and squat by the stove. Yes, yes, we are old
fellows and must stick at home, while the young ones are out yonder,
fighting the enemy."

The old man kept on steadily smoking his pipe, and talked of war times,
and particularly of the Russian campaign, of which he was a survivor.
But on this day I could not listen to him, and while walking home I
began thinking, am I really fit for nothing but to observe from afar
the great deeds that are now being wrought?

Just as I was turning away from the old man, his son, the meadow
farmer, came along with a large load of hay, and said in a mocking
manner, "The French let us gather our hay; our houses will burn so much
the better when they come to set them on fire." Then he added with
malicious pleasure, "Your house is insured, but there is no insurance
on your woods." Here he laughed aloud. When troubles are on us, a man's
true nature shows itself.

After telling me his fears, he repeated them more fully to Rothfuss.
The latter shifted his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other,
and asked, "What would you give not to suffer any damage?"

"How? what do you mean?

"They won't hurt my house; my father has the cross of St. Helena. And I
have no cash. I can swear that I haven't a farthing in the house."

He spoke the truth, for he had buried his money.

"You need no money; it's something else. Do you know the story of the
dragon of Rockesberg?"

"What do you want? What do you mean?"

"Why, to quiet the dragon, they had to sacrifice a maiden."

"Those are old tales. Don't try to make a fool of me. If you want a
fool, whittle one for yourself."

"Stay! I know how you can buy yourself free. You needn't deliver your
daughter Marie to the dragon. Will you promise to give her to Carl in
case everything should turn out well?"

"Ho! he'll never come back."

"But in case he should?"

"Well--do you think that will be of any use?"

"Certainly. Such a promise will save you."

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself for being so superstitious. You
are a fool," said the meadow farmer, and went off.

The exci