When Fortune will cast a man down, she raiseth him first to the heights, and the good God doth faithfully warn every man before his fall. Such a warning had I, but would have none of it. For I was stiffly persuaded of this, that my fortune was so firmly founded that no mishap could cast me down, because all, and specially the commandant himself, wished me well; those that he valued I won over by all manner of respect: his trusted servants I brought over to my side by presents, and with them perhaps more than with mine equals I did drink "Brotherhood" and swore to them everlasting faith and friendship: so, too, the common citizens and soldiers loved me because I had a friendly word for all. "What a kindly man," said they often, "is the huntsman; He will talk with a child in the street, and hath a quarrel with no man!" If I had shot a hare or a few partridges I would send them to the kitchen of those whose friendship I sought, and also invited myself as a guest; at which time I would always have a sup of wine (which was in that place very dear) brought thither also: yea, I would so contrive it that the whole cost would fall upon me. And when at such banquets I fell in converse with any, I had praise for all save myself, and managed so to feign humility as I had never known pride. So because I thus gained the favour of all, and all thought much of me, I never conceived that any misfortune could encounter me, especially since my purse was still pretty well filled. Often I went to the oldest priest of the town, who lent me many books from his library: and when I brought one back then would he discourse of all manner of matters with me, for we became so familiar together that one could easily bear with the other. So when not only the Martinmas goose and the feast of pudding-broth were gone and over, but also the Christmas holidays, I presented to him for the New Year a bottle of Strassburg Branntwein, the which he, after Westphalian use, liked to sip with sugar-candy, and thereafter came to visit him, even as he was a-reading my "Joseph the Chaste," which my host without my knowledge had lent him. I did blush that my work should fall into the hands of so learned a man, especially because men hold that one is best known by what he writes. But he would have me to sit by him and praised my invention, yet blamed me that I had lingered so long over the love-story of Zuleika (which was Potiphar's wife). "Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh," said he moreover, "and if my friend had not known how it fares with a wooer's heart he could never so well have treated of this woman's passion or in so lively fashion pictured it."