Hansei smiled his thanks for the compliment.
"But I want to ask you about something."
"What is it?"
"Look here. You're so much--how shall I say it?--so much readier with your mouth, and more mannerly than I am, and if I have to go to the capital and stand up before the king and queen and all the grand gentlemen, why--why--why, look here, whenever I think of it, even now, it chokes me, and my opinion is that you'd better go along as my mouthpiece and say everything properly. One doesn't have such a chance more than once in a lifetime, and it won't do to forget anything."
"That's a clever thought of yours," said the innkeeper.
"You shan't do it for nothing and the journey shan't cost you a groschen."
"No, I can't go with you. At court, it won't do to say: 'This is my child's godfather, my comrade, and he's to come in, too, and speak for me.' The one who has the audience is the only one who's allowed to speak. If you want to have a little fun, and your wife's agreed, I might go as Walpurga's husband--that would do."
"No," cried Hansei, "I won't do any such thing, and my wife wouldn't, either. That won't do at all."
"Well, my dear fellow, all that remains is to go and speak for yourself."
Hansei was sad. He felt as if thrust out of doors. He had not been brought up and schooled for such things as talking to the king and queen and their courtiers, and was afraid of what he might do to them if they were to laugh at and ridicule him, for he wouldn't stand that. He would allow no one to make sport of him, in his wife's presence, for he was the husband and she only the wife.