The castellan, to whom he showed the certificate, made no comment upon it, and to the horse-dealer’s question as to whether he could now have his horses back, replied that he need only go down to the stable and get them.  But even while crossing the courtyard, Kohlhaas learned with dismay that for alleged insolence his groom had been cudgeled and dismissed in disgrace a few days after being left behind at Tronka Castle.  Of the boy who informed him of this he inquired what in the world the groom had done, and who had taken care of the horses in the mean time; to this the boy answered that he did not know, and then opened to the horse-dealer, whose heart was already full of misgivings, the door of the stable in which the horses stood.  How great, though, was his astonishment when, instead of his two glossy, well-fed blacks, he spied a pair of lean, worn-out jades, with bones on which one could have hung things as if on pegs, and with mane and hair matted together from lack of care and attention—­in short, the very picture of utter misery in the animal kingdom!  Kohlhaas, at the sight of whom the horses neighed and moved feebly, was extremely indignant, and asked what had happened to his horses.  The boy, who was standing beside him, answered that they had not suffered any harm, and that they had had proper feed too, but, as it had been harvest time, they had been used a bit in the fields because there weren’t draught animals enough.  Kohlhaas cursed over the shameful, preconcerted outrage; but realizing that he was powerless he suppressed his rage, and, as no other course lay open to him, was preparing to leave this den of thieves again with his horses when the castellan, attracted by the altercation, appeared and asked what was the matter.

“What’s the matter?” echoed Kohlhaas.  “Who gave Squire Tronka and his people permission to use for work in the fields the black horses that I left behind with him?” He added, “Do you call that humane?” and trying to rouse the exhausted nags with a switch, he showed him that they did not move.  The castellan, after he had watched him for a while with an expression of defiance, broke out, “Look at the ruffian!  Ought not the churl to thank God that the jades are still alive?” He asked who would have been expected to take care of them when the groom had run away, and whether it were not just that the horses should have worked in the fields for their feed.  He concluded by saying that Kohlhaas had better not make a rumpus or he would call the dogs and with them would manage to restore order in the courtyard.

The horse-dealer’s heart thumped against his doublet.  He felt a strong desire to throw the good-for-nothing, pot-bellied scoundrel into the mud and set his foot on his copper-colored face.  But his sense of justice, which was as delicate as a gold-balance, still wavered; he was not yet quite sure before the bar of his own conscience whether his adversary were really guilty of a crime.  And so, swallowing the