“Here they are,” replied Ulenspiegel.
“With the Duke’s signature and all,” said the innkeeper. “Here’s a health to the Duke.”
“To the Duke,” echoed Lamme and Ulenspiegel. And mine host went on talking:
“Answer me now, do you know what it is that they catch rats and mice in? Why in rat-traps to be sure, and mouse-traps. Who is the mouse then? The great heretic of Orange—and orange he is in very truth, like the flames of hell! But God is on our side. They will come. Ho ho! A toast! Pour out the wine; I bake and burn with thirst. Come, drink, my masters. Fine little Protestant evangelists.... I said little. Fine valiant little fellows they are, and brave soldiers, sturdy as oaks.... I drink to them! Are you not going with them to the camp of the great heretic? I have certain passports signed by him.... You will see.”
“We are going to the camp,” answered Ulenspiegel.
“Yes, they will do their work well. And one fine night, if the opportunity presents itself”—and here the innkeeper whistled, and made a gesture as of one man cutting another’s throat—“cold steel, I tell you. It’s that that shall prevent the black bird of Nassau from singing any more. Come, drink again.”
“You’re a gay fellow,” said Ulenspiegel, “in spite of being married.”
The innkeeper said:
“I am neither married nor have I ever been. The secrets of Princes are safe with me. Drink! But if I had a wife she would steal my secrets from under my pillow to get me hanged and herself made widow before the time. Long live God! They will come.... But where are the new passports? On my heart of a Christian. Drink! They are there, there I tell you. One hundred paces along the road near by Marche-les-Dames. Do you see them? Drink again!”
“Drink?” said Ulenspiegel. “Yes, I drink and drink and drink. To the King, to the Duke, to the Protestant preachers, and to Vent d’acier—Wind of Lead. And I drink to thee and to me, to the wine and the bottle that holds it. But why? It is you that have stopped drinking!”