"You are welcome," said she calmly, making neither much nor little of
the favour; and with that began to gather up the feathers; but Gerard
stopped her. "Nay, that is my task;" and he went down on his knees and
collected them with ardour. She watched him demurely.
"I wot not whence ye come," said she with a relic of distrust; adding
more cordially, "but ye have been well brought up; y' have had a good
mother, I'll go bail."
At the door she committed the whole company to Heaven in a formula, and
disappeared. Gerard to his straw in the very corner, for the guests lay
round the sacred stove by seniority, _i. e._ priority of arrival.
This punishment was a boon to Gerard, for thus he lay on the shore of
odour and stifling heat, instead of in mid ocean.
He was just dropping off, when he was awaked by a noise, and lo! there
was the hind remorselessly shaking and waking guest after guest to ask
him whether it was he who had picked up the mistress's feathers.
"It was I," cried Gerard.
"Oh, it was you was it?" said the other, and came striding rapidly over
the intermediate sleepers. "She bade me say, 'One good turn deserves
another,' and so here's your night-cap," and he thrust a great oaken mug
under Gerard's nose.
"I thank her and bless her, here goes--ugh!" and his gratitude ended in
a wry face, for the beer was muddy, and had a strange medicinal twang
new to the Hollander.
"Trinke aus!" shouted the hind reproachfully.
"Enow is as good as a feast," said the youth, Jesuitically.
The hind cast a look of pity on this stranger who left liquor in his
mug. "Ich brings euch," said he and drained it to the bottom.
And now Gerard turned his face to the wall and pulled up two handfuls of
the nice clean straw, and bored in them with his finger, and so made a
scabbard, and sheathed his nose in it. And soon they were all asleep:
men, maids, wives, and children, all lying higgledy-piggledy, and
snoring in a dozen keys like an orchestra slowly tuning; and Gerard's
body lay on straw in Germany, and his spirit was away to Sevenbergen.
When he woke in the morning he found nearly all his fellow-passengers
gone. One or two were waiting for dinner, nine o'clock: it was now six.
He paid the landlady her demand, two pfenning, or about an English
halfpenny and he of the pitchfork demanded trinkgeld, and getting a
trifle more than usual, and seeing Gerard eye a foaming milk-pail he had
just brought from the cow, hoisted it up bodily to his lips. "Drink your
fill, man," said he, and on Gerard offering to pay for the delicious
draught, told him in broad patois, that a man might swallow a skinful of
milk, or a breakfast of air, without putting hand to pouch. At the door
Gerard found his benefactress of last night, and a huge-chested artisan,
her husband.
Gerard thanked her, and in the spirit of the age offered her a creutzer
for her pudding.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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