She was looking upward at the hole in the ceiling.
"For God's sake, do not fire!" she cried; "tis only my poor Lubber Fiend.
Shame on me, that I had quite forgotten him all this time!" At which, without turning away the muzzle, Boris put it a little aside, and waited for the disturber of brick-dust ceilings to reveal himself.
Which, when presently he did, a huge, grinning face appeared, pushing forward at first slowly and with difficulty, then, as soon as the ears had crossed the narrows of the pass, the whole head to the neck was glaring down and grinning to us.
"Lubber Jan," said Ysolinde, "what do you up there ?" The head only grinned and waggled pleasantly, as it had been through a horse-collar at Dantzig fair.
"Speak!" said she, and stamped her little foot; "I will shake thee with terrors else, monster!" "Poor Jan came down from above.

It is quite easy!" he said.

"But not for horses.

Oh no! but now I will go and bring the Burgomeister.

Do you keep the castle while I go.