truth; don't set your heart on a
piece of work like that. But when the vintage is over I will get you a
plain strong little cask made, such as will be suitable for your
cellar." Old Holzschuer, incensed at Master Martin's pride, replied
that his gold pieces weighed just as much as the Bishop of Bamberg's,
and that he hoped he could get good work elsewhere for ready money.
Master Martin, although fuming with rage, controlled himself with
difficulty; he would not by any means like to offend old Herr
Holzschuer, who stood so high in the esteem both of the Council and of
all the burghers. At this moment Conrad struck mightier blows than ever
with his mallet, so that the whole shop rang and cracked; then Master
Martin's internal rage boiled over, and he shouted vehemently, "Conrad,
you blockhead, what do you mean by striking so blindly and heedlessly?
do you mean to break my cask in pieces?" "Ho! ho!" replied Conrad,
looking round defiantly at his master, "Ho! ho! my comical little
master, and why should I not?" And therewith he dealt such a terrible
blow at the cask that the strongest hoop sprang, rattling, and knocked
Reinhold down from the narrow plank on the scaffolding; and it was
further evident from the hollow echo that a stave had been broken as
well. Completely mastered by his furious anger, Master Martin snatched
out of Valentine's hand the bar he was shaving, and striding towards
the cask, dealt Conrad a good sound stroke with it on the back,
shouting, "You cursed dog!" As soon as Conrad felt the blow he wheeled
sharply round, and after standing for a moment as if bereft of his
senses, his eyes blazed up with fury, he ground his teeth, and
screamed, "Struck! struck!" Then at one bound he was down from the
scaffolding, had snatched up an adze that lay on the floor, and aimed a
powerful stroke at his master; had not Frederick pulled Martin on one
side the blow would have split his head; as it was, the adze only
grazed his arm, from which, however, the blood at once began to spurt
out. Martin, fat and helpless as he was, lost his equilibrium and fell
over the bench, at which one of the apprentices was working, into the
floor. They all threw themselves upon Conrad, who was frantic,
flourishing his bloody adze in the air, and shouting and screaming in a
terrible voice, "Let him go to hell! To hell with him!" Hurling them
all off with the strength of a giant, he was preparing to deal a second
blow at his poor master, who