A half-naked woman was tied to the bed-post, and from her mouth burst the ceaseless, piercing complaints or imprecations, such as the damned in hell might utter, which had penetrated to the depths of Andreas’s dream. The farmer was busying himself about the raving creature; his wife, half dressed, beside him; the steward was cutting with his pocket-knife the knotted rope which bound her ankles to the bed. The cords from her hands and a gag lay on the floor. The head maid was pouring water from a jug on to the smouldering mattress and the charred posts at the head of the bed, and stamping out the glowing sparks in the straw and twigs piled up beside the bed.

Then Andreas recognized in the screaming woman bound there the young maid who had been carrying on with his servant the day before, and a frightful foreboding made his blood run cold. The half-demented woman seemed to be calming down, reassured by the farmer and his wife. Twitching, she lay across the knees of the housekeeper, who wrapped her up in a horse-rug. She began to answer the farmer’s questions; her swollen face took on a human expression, but every answer turned to a soul-rending shriek, which forced its way from her distended mouth and rang though the house. Had the man stunned her with a blow, or in some other way, and then gagged her? asked the farmer. What kind of poison had been mixed for the dog? Had a long or short time passed since she had contrived to tear the gag out of her mouth? But the woman could utter nothing except that she had screamed with horror for a just God to hear her: he had tied her up like that, had made up the fire under her very eyes, and bolted her in from the outside, had grinned in at her through the window and taunted her in her deadly fear. And all mixed with imploring prayers to forgive her her grievous sin. No name was spoken, but Andreas knew only too well whom they were speaking about. As though he had seen what he had come to see, he passed like a sleepwalker through the crowd of farm-hands and maids, who silently made way for him; behind them all, cowering in a doorway, stood Romana, half dressed, barefoot and trembling—almost as I saw her in my dream, something in him said. When she became aware of him her face took on an expression of boundless horror.

He went into the stable; a young groom followed him, perhaps suspicious. The stall where Andreas’s chestnut had stood the day before was empty; the bay stood in its misery. The tall young groom, who had an honest face, looked at Andreas, who forced himself to ask: “Did he take anything else with him?”

“It doesn’t seem so for the moment,” said the groom. “A few of us are after him, but his horse is certainly the faster, and he’s had as much as two hours’ start.”

Andreas said nothing. His horse was gone, and with it more than half his journey money which was sewn into the saddle. But that seemed nothing compared with the shame of standing thus before the farmer’s people, into whose house he had brought this horror. The saying: “Like master, like man,” came into his mind, and then, like a lightning flash, the saying reversed, so that he stood as if drenched with blood before the honest face of the lad.

“The horse there was stolen from us too,” said the groom, pointing to the bay. “The master knew it at once, but he didn’t want to say anything about it at first.”

Andreas made no answer. He went upstairs, and without counting what money he had left, he took out as much as he thought would repay Finazzer for his stolen property. As he had no idea what a horse like the bay might fetch among the country folk, he put into his pocket as much as he had paid for it in Villach to make sure. Then he stood in unconscious thought for a long time by the table in his room, and at last went downstairs to settle the affair.

He had to wait before he could speak to the farmer, for the three men who had ridden in pursuit had just come back, and were reporting what they had seen and what they had found out from the shepherds and wayfarers they had met; but there was little likelihood of laying hands on the scoundrel. The farmer was kind and composed, Andreas all the more embarrassed.

“Then do you want to keep the horse and buy it from me a second time? For I’m sure you’ve paid honestly for it.”

Andreas said no.

“If not, how can I take your money? You have brought back my stolen property; besides, through you I know there is a bad girl in the stable, so that I can get her out of the house and into the hands of the law before she does more mischief. You are an inexperienced young gentleman, and our Lord had His hand visibly over you. The maid has confessed that when she was with the ruffian she saw a brand on his shoulder, and she thinks that if he had not caught her looking at it, for he turned as white as chalk when he did, he would not have used her so savagely. Thank your Maker that He has preserved you from spending a night in the woods with a runaway murderer. If you mean to go on to Italy, there is a carrier passing here this evening. He will take you to Villach, and from there you will find an opportunity of travelling down to Venice any day.”

THE CARRIER did not arrive until the following evening, and so Andreas spent two more days at the Finazzer farm. It was terrible to him to be on the farmer’s hands after such an affair: he felt like a prisoner.