“I have no thoughts of plying my trade at Lucerne,” replied Benedict; “and now, as I see you are a German man, _lieber Herr_, and as I like your countenance and your manner of speaking, I will tell you in confidence that I know very little of my trade, and have already been turned out of several fabriques as an evil workman; the two wash-balls that I carry in my pocket are not of my own making. _In kurzem_, {192} I know little more of soap-boiling than I do of tailoring, horse-farriery, or shoe-making, all of which I have practised.” “Then I know not how you can hope to live like a _Herzog_ in your native canton, unless you expect that the men of Lucerne, in consideration of your services to the Pope and to the King of Spain, will maintain you in splendour at the public expense.” “_Lieber Herr_,” said Benedict, “the men of Lucerne are by no means fond of maintaining the soldiers of the Pope and the King of Spain at their own expense. Many of the guard who have returned thither beg their bread in the streets; but when I go, it shall be in a coach drawn by six mules, with a treasure, a mighty _Schatz_ which lies in the church of Saint James of Compostella, in Galicia.” “I hope you do not intend to rob the church,” said I; “if you do, however, I believe you will be disappointed. Mendizabal and the liberals have been beforehand with you. I am informed that at present no other treasure is to be found in the cathedrals of Spain than a few paltry ornaments and plated utensils.”