“What! against me?”

“Apparently so; but, like a generous enemy, when I told him that I should most likely condemn you to pay him damages, he said no more about it.  For I will not hide from you, that, before I heard your reasons, I fully intended that you should make compensation for the Prophet’s wound.”

“See, Mr. Burgomaster, how the most just and able persons are subject to be deceived,” said Dagobert, becoming once more the courtier; then, trying to assume a prodigiously knowing look, he added:  “But such persons find out the truth at last, and are not to be made dupes of, whatever prophets may say.”

This poor attempt at a jest—­the first and only one, perhaps, that Dagobert had ever been guilty of—­will show the extremity to which he was reduced, and the desperate efforts of all kinds he was making to conciliate the good graces of his judge.  The burgomaster did not at first see the pleasantry; he was only led to perceive it by the self satisfied mien of Dagobert, and by his inquiring glance, which seemed to say:  “Is it not good, eh?—­I am astonished at it myself.”

The magistrate began, therefore, to smile with a patronizing air, and, nodding his head, replied in the same jocular spirit:  “Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  You are right; the Prophet is out in his prophecy.  You shall not pay him any damages.  The faults on both sides are equal, and the injuries balance one another.  He has been wounded, your horse has been killed; so you may cry quits, and have done with it.”

“But how much then, do you think he owes me?” asked the soldier, with singular simplicity.

“How much?”

“Yes, Mr. Burgomaster, what sum will he have to pay me?  Yes—­but, before you decide, I must tell you one thing, Mr. Burgomaster.  I think I shall be entitled to spend only part of the money in buying a horse.  I am sure, that, in the environs of Leipsic, I could get a beast very cheap from some of the peasants; and, between ourselves, I will own to you, that, if I could meet with only a nice little donkey—­I should not be over particular—­I should even like it just as well; for, after my poor Jovial, the company of another horse would be painful to me.  I must also tell you—­”

“Hey-day!” cried the burgomaster, interrupting Dagobert, “of what money, what donkey, and what other horse are you talking?  I tell you, that you owe nothing to the Prophet, and that he owes you nothing!”

“He owes me nothing?”

“You are very dull of comprehension, my good man.  I repeat, that, if the Prophet’s animals have killed your horse, the Prophet himself has been badly wounded; so you may cry quits.  In other words, you owe him nothing, and he owes you nothing.  Now do you understand?”

Dagobert, confounded, remained for some moments without answering, whilst he looked at the burgomaster with an expression of deep anguish.  He saw that his judgment would again destroy all his hopes.