But even the best joke of the witty knight would have failed to produce its effect on the listening waiter just now; for the gentlemen outside were again discussing the Reuchlin controversy, and in doing so uttered such odious words about the Cologne theologians, whom Dietel knew as godly gentlemen who consumed an ample supply of food, that he grew hot and cold by turns.  He was a good man who would not hurt a fly.  Yet, when he heard things and opinions which his mother had taught him to hold sacred assailed, he could become as angry as a savage brute.  The little impious blasphemer Eberbach, especially, he would have been more than ready to lash with the best hazel rod which he had ever cut for his dead father.  But honest anger affords a certain degree of enjoyment, so it was anything rather than agreeable to him to be called away.

The feather curler and his table companions wanted Kitzing wine, but it was in the cellar, and a trip there would have detained him too long from his post of listener.  So he turned angrily back into the room, and told the business men that princes, bishops, and counts were satisfied with the table wine of The Blue Pike, which had been already served to them, and the sceptre and crozier were of more importance than their twisted feathers.  “Those are not the wisest people,” he added sagely, “who despise what is good to try to get better.  So stick to the excellent Blue Pike wine and say no more about it!”

Without waiting for an answer from the astonished guests, he limped back to his window to resume his listening.  The conversation, however, had already taken a new turn, for Dr. Peutinger was describing the Roman monument which he had had put up in the courtyard of his Augsburg house, but, as this interested Dietel very little, he soon turned his attention to the high road, whence a belated guest might still come to The Blue Pike.

The landlady’s little kitchen garden lay between it and the river Main, and there—­no, it was no deception—­there, behind the low hawthorn hedge, a human figure was moving.

One of the vagabonds had certainly slipped into the garden to steal fruit or vegetables, or even honey from the bee hives.  An unprecedented offence!  Dietel’s blood boiled, for the property of The Blue Pike was as dear to him as his own.

With prompt decision he went through the entry into the yard, where he meant to unchain the butcher’s dog to help him chase the abominable robber.  But some time was to elapse ere he could execute this praiseworthy intention; for before he could cross the threshold the landlord of The Pike appeared, berated him, and ordered him to be more civil in the performance of his duties.  The words were intended less for the waiter than for the feather dealer and his friends.

The latter had complained of Dietel to the landlord of The Pike, and, after he had received a reproof, they punished him for his rudeness by ordering him to fetch one jug of wine from the cellar after another.  At last, when, with many a malediction, he had brought up the fifth, his tormentors released him, but then the best time was lost.  Nevertheless he continued the pursuit and entered the little garden with the dog, but the thief had fled.