"True," said the man, "but we needn't go into that, most honourable horse-combing secretary; the point of the thing as far as you are concerned is, that it is no use your trying to drink me under the table, for I have a little tap screwed into my brain through which the fumes of the wine can evaporate." It was indeed true, and he inclined his head towards Balthasar to show him the process. The groom clapped his hands with delight: "That's a most excellent device, sir; couldn't you screw such a thing as that into my head? I will give you everything I possess for such an article." "No, that can't be done," said the other thoughtfully; "you are not learned either in magic or anything else; but as I have taken a great liking to you I will serve you with all my power. Listen: The post of cellarmaster is vacant here at present. Leave, oh Bottomless one, the Swedish service, where there is more water than wine, and come into the service of the most noble the Council of this City. Even if we do lose a few dozen casks of wine per annum, which you drink in secret, that won't matter, we have been long looking out for a fit person for the place. I will make you cellarmaster to-morrow if you like: whereas if you don't like, all the town shall know to-morrow that the Swede has sent us a groom as a secretary." This proposal tasted to Balthasar like a draught of good wine, he cast a glance into the immeasurable realm of drink that was already prospectively his, and accepted the offer at once. After this there remained several little points to be settled; as for instance, what was to be done with Balthasar's soul when he ceased to be cellarmaster in the course of nature: all these were satisfactorily determined, and Captain Tosspot went back to the Swedish camp without his secretary, without his treaty, and with a bad headache. And when the Imperialists afterwards came to Bremen and occupied it, the burgomaster was right glad that he had not allied himself too closely with Gustavus.'