oughtn’t to yawn at such a time.  I’m trembling all over.  Oh, you little wretch, what misery you have caused me!  I can’t tell any one what you’ve made me suffer, and must just bear it in silence.  It was God who sent Braesig to my help.”  Suddenly Braesig whispered in great excitement, his voice sounding like the distant cry of a corn-crake:  “Mrs. Behrens, draw yourself out till you’re as long as Lewerenz’s child;[9] make yourself as thin as you possibly can, and put on a pretty air of confusion, for I see him coming over the crest of the hill.  His figure stands out clearly against the sky.”  Little Mrs. Behrens felt as if her heart had stopped beating and her anger waxed hotter against the boy who had brought her into such a false position.  She was so much ashamed of herself for being where she was, that she would most assuredly have run away if Braesig had not laughed again, but as soon as she heard that laugh, she determined to stay and show him that he was engaged in a much more serious undertaking than he seemed to imagine.

It was quite true that Braesig had laughed this time, for he saw a second and then a third black figure following the first down the hill.  “Ha, ha, ha!” he chuckled in his hiding-place in the thorn-bush, “there’s Charles Hawermann too!  I declare the whole overseeing force of Puempelhagen is coming down here to see how the peas are growing in the dusk of evening.  It’s as good as a play!” Mrs. Behrens did not see the others, she only saw her sister’s son who was coming rapidly toward her.  He hastened over the bridge, ran along the bank, sprang to her side, and threw his arms round her neck, exclaiming:  “Sweet angel!” “Oh you wicked little wretch!” cried his aunt trying to seize him in the way Braesig had desired her, but instead of that she only caught hold of the collar of his coat.  Then she called out as loudly as she could:  “The Philistines be upon thee!” and immediately Braesig the Philistine started to his feet.  Confound it!  His foot had gone to sleep!  But never mind!  He hopped down the bank as quickly as he could, taking into consideration that one leg felt as if it had a hundred-and-eighty pound weight attached to the end of it, but just as he was close upon his prey he tripped over a low thorn-bush and tumbled right into the foot and a half of water.  And there he sat as immovably as if he had gone back to the hydropathic establishment, and were in the enjoyment of a sitz-bath!  Fred stood as if he had been turned to stone, and felt as though he were suffering from a douche-bath, for his dear aunt was clutching him tightly and scolding him to her heart’s content:  “The dragon has caught you now my boy!  Yes, the dragon has caught you!” “And here comes the ass,” shouted Braesig picking himself out of the water and running toward him.  But Fred had now recovered from his astonishment.  He shook himself free from his aunt, and darting up the bank would have escaped had he not at the same moment encountered a new enemy—­Frank.