Abbot Hans obeyed Robber Mother and brought forth his food sack; but he was so fatigued after the journey he was hardly able to eat, and as soon as he could stretch himself on the bed, he fell asleep.

The lay brother was also assigned a bed to rest upon, but he didn’t dare sleep, as he thought he had better keep his eye on Robber Father to prevent his getting up and capturing Abbot Hans.  But gradually fatigue got the better of him, too, and he dropped into a doze.

When he woke up, he saw that Abbot Hans had left his bed and was sitting by the fire talking with Robber Mother.  The outlawed robber sat also by the fire.  He was a tall, raw-boned man with a dull, sluggish appearance.  His back was turned to Abbot Hans, as though he would have it appear that he was not listening to the conversation.

Abbot Hans was telling Robber Mother all about the Christmas preparations he had seen on the journey, reminding her of Christmas feasts and games which she must have known in her youth, when she lived at peace with mankind.  “I’m sorry for your children, who can never run on the village street in holiday dress or tumble in the Christmas straw,” said he.

At first Robber Mother answered in short, gruff sentences, but by degrees she became more subdued and listened more intently.  Suddenly Robber Father turned toward Abbot Hans and shook his clenched fist in his face.  “You miserable monk! did you come here to coax from me my wife and children?  Don’t you know that I am an outlaw and may not leave the forest?”

Abbot Hans looked him fearlessly in the eyes.  “It is my purpose to get a letter of ransom for you from Archbishop Absalon,” said he.  He had hardly finished speaking when the robber and his wife burst out laughing.  They knew well enough the kind of mercy a forest robber could expect from Bishop Absalon!

“Oh, if I get a letter of ransom from Absalon,” said Robber Father, “then I’ll promise you that never again will I steal so much as a goose.”

The lay brother was annoyed with the robber folk for daring to laugh at Abbot Hans, but on his own account he was well pleased.  He had seldom seen the Abbot sitting more peaceful and meek with his monks at Oevid than he now sat with this wild robber folk.

Suddenly Robber Mother rose.  “You sit here and talk, Abbot Hans,” she said, “so that we are forgetting to look at the forest.  Now I can hear, even in this cave, how the Christmas bells are ringing.”

The words were barely uttered when they all sprang up and rushed out.  But in the forest it was still dark night and bleak winter.  The only thing they marked was a distant clang borne on a light south wind.

“How can this bell ringing ever awaken the dead forest?” thought Abbot Hans.  For now, as he stood out in the winter darkness, he thought it far more impossible that a summer garden could spring up here than it had seemed to him before.