and staring at the windows of the guests' rooms. At last their
curiosity was about to be gratified, at last the servant appeared
with the little carpet-bag, and placed it in the stage, and returned
for the two cases, whose contents they would so greedily have known.
The postilion blew his horn, the moment of departure had arrived.

A murmur was heard through the crowd, the strangers appeared, they
approached the stage, and with such haughty and commanding glances
that the men nearest them stepped timidly back.

The postilion sounded his horn again, the strangers were entering
the stage. At the door stood the postmaster, and behind him his
wife, the commanding postmistress.

"Niclas," she whispered, "I must and will know who these strangers
are. Go and demand their passports."

The obedient Niclas stepped out and cried in a thundering voice to
the postilion, who was just about to start, to wait. Stepping to the
stage, he opened the door.

"Your passports, gentlemen," he said, roughly. "You forgot to show
me your passports."

The curious observers breathed more freely, and nodded encouragingly
to the daring postmaster.

"You rejoice," murmured his wife, who was still standing in the
door, from whence she saw all that passed, and seemed to divine the
thoughts of her gaping friends--"you rejoice, but you shall know