"
"You are mad yourself, you stupid beast. Who told you that?"
"I saw it, I heard it myself, and others also have seen that she is
mad."
"Cannot I speak to her?"
"How can you? That's just the mischief of it, that she cannot be spoken
to."
"You rascal, I tell you your master _is_ at home. I am sure of it."
Long-legs shrugged his shoulders and began to whistle.
"Look ye here, my son," said Gerzson, scarcely able to contain himself,
"the fist that you see in my pocket here is pulling the trigger of a
revolver and I have a jolly good mind to send a bullet in between your
onion chawing teeth, so I should advise you not to try any of your
tom-foolery on me. On this occasion I have not come to pay your master
a visit but for other reasons. Speak the truth, sirrah! Is your master
at home or is he not?"
"I have just told you that there is not a soul at home except her
ladyship, and she is mad."
At that same moment Gerzson thought he heard a fiddle in the upper
story.
"What, music here!" he cried.
The fellow laughed.
"Yes, they are trying to cure the sick baroness by playing to her."
"But I hear the sound of men's voices also as if there were guests
here."
"Where? I hear nothing. It is only the dogs barking in the enclosure."
"You did not hear it, sirrah?"
"I heard nothing."
"Very well, my son, I see you have orders to make a fool of me; but it
strikes me that both you and your master will have to get up pretty
early to do that.
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