The women knew of no other plan except to attempt obedience in God’s name; they suggested having masses sung in order to obtain God’s protection, or requesting neighbors to give them secret help by night, for their lords would not have allowed outside help openly; they thought of splitting up, the one half to work at the beech-trees, while the other half should sow oats and look after the cattle. In this way they hoped with God’s help to bring up to Bärhegen at least three beeches a day; nobody mentioned the green huntsman; whether anyone thought of him or not, is not recorded.

They divided themselves up and prepared their tools, and when the first May morning appeared at its threshold, the men met at the Münneberg and began the work with good heart. The beeches had to be dug up in a wide circle in order to spare the roots and then lowered carefully to the ground. The morning was still not yet far advanced when three trees lay ready to be moved, for it had been decided that they should always transport three together, so that the men could help each other out with their cattle as well as with the strength of their hands. But when midday came, they still had not got the three beech-trees out of the forest, and when the sun went down behind the mountains, the teams had still not gone further than Sumiswald. It was not until the next morning that they reached the foot of the hill on which the castle stood and where the beeches were to be planted. It was as if a special unlucky star had power over them. One misfortune after another befell them; harnesses snapped, carts broke, horses and oxen fell down or else refused obedience. On the second day matters became even worse. New distress inevitably brought new toil with it, the wretched folk were breathless with the unceasing labor, and still there was no beech-tree up at the top, and only three trees had been transported any further than Sumiswald.

Von Stoffeln reviled and cursed; the more he reviled and cursed, the greater influence the unlucky start seemed to have, and the cattle became all the more stubborn. The other knights laughed and mocked and took great pleasure in the terrified floundering of the peasants and in von Stoffeln’s anger. They had laughed at von Stoffeln’s new castle built on the naked hill-top. Because of that he had vowed that there must be a beautiful avenue up there within a month’s time. That was why he cursed and the knights laughed, while the peasants wept. These last were seized by a terrible despair, for they no longer had a single cart that was not damaged, nor any team of cattle that was not harmed, nor had three beech-trees been brought to the proper place within three days, and all strength had been exhausted.

Night had fallen, black clouds had gathered and there was lightning for the first time this year. The men had sat down by the roadside; it was the same turning of the road where they had sat three days earlier, but they did not realize this. There the Hornbach peasant, the husband of the woman from Lindau, was sitting with a couple of farm-servants, and some others were also seated with them. They wanted to wait at that spot for beech-trees that were supposed to be arriving from Sumiswald; they wanted to think over their misery undisturbed and to rest their bruised limbs.

Then a woman came along with a great basket on her head, moving so rapidly that there was almost a whistling, like the wind when it has been let loose out of closed spaces. It was Christine, the woman from Lindau whom the Hornbach peasant had taken on one occasion when he had gone on a warring expedition with his lord. She was not the sort of woman who is happy to be at home, to fulfil her duties in quietness and to care only for home and family. Christine wanted to know what was going on, and if she could not give her advice about something, it would turn out badly, or so she thought. For this reason she had not sent a maid with the food, but had taken the heavy basket on her own head and had been looking for the men for a long time without success; she left fall bitter words on the subject as soon as she had found them.

In the meantime, however, she had not been idle, for she could talk and work at the same time. She put down her basket, took the lid off the saucepan containing porridge, set out the bread and cheese in orderly fashion and placed the spoons in the porridge for her husband and his servants, and also told the others to set to as well, if they were still without food. Then she asked about the men’s work, and how much had been accomplished in the two days. But the men had lost all appetite and all wish to talk; no one seized his spoon, and none had an answer. There was only one frivolous little farm-servant fellow who didn’t care whether there was rain or sunshine at harvest-time, provided the year took its course and he had his wages and food on the table every mealtime; he seized his spoon and informed Chris tine that still no single beech-tree had been planted and that everything was happening as if they had been bewitched.

Then the woman from Lindau mocked and scolded them, saying that this was nothing but vain imagining and that the men were behaving with the weakness of a woman in child-bed; they would bring no beech-trees to Bärhegen, whether they toiled and wept or sat down and cried. It would be their own fault if the knight let them feel his wanton malice; but for the sake of the women and children the matter would have to be handled differently. Then a long black hand came suddenly over the woman’s shoulder, and a piercing voice called, ‘Yes, she’s right!’ And in their midst stood the green huntsman with his grinning face, and the red feather tossed on his hat. Immediately terror drove the men away from the spot; they scattered up the slope like chaff in a whirlwind.

Christine, the woman from Lindau, was the only one who could not flee; she was learning what it means to talk about the devil and then be confronted by him in person. She stood as if transfixed by magic, compelled to stare at the red feather on his cap and to watch how the little red beard moved merrily up and down in the black face.