“Pst!” warned Veit, for the old woman was returning. She was about to provide them with wine, but Veit beckoned to her and said: “We have no wish for a carousal this time, Mother Ruschen. I will quench my thirst with a good drink from my own cellar, and don’t care to spoil the taste of it now.” Turning to his companions, he added: “You shall be my guests to-night. We must leave for home to-morrow at an early hour. We will make preparations for a little ride; it is bad luck that I cannot ride the black horse. The beast went suddenly lame, and that is why I wait here so long. It must have been bewitched.”