"You are only joking, Gideon! What is the use of my being present if I don't prescribe?"
"Why, you bring him good luck!"
I looked straight at him, but he was not even smiling!
"Yes, Fritz, you are just a messenger of good; the last two years the lord had another attack the next day after the first, then a third and a fourth. You have put an end to that. What can be clearer?"
"Well, to me it is not so very clear; on the contrary, it is very obscure."
"We are never too old to learn," the good man went on. "Fritz, there are messengers of evil and there are messengers of good. Now that rascal Knapwurst, he is a sure messenger of ill. If ever I meet him as I am going out hunting I am sure of some misadventure; my gun misses fire, or I sprain my ankle, or a dog gets ripped up!—all sorts of mischief come. So, being quite aware of this, I always try and set off at early daybreak, before that author of mischief, who sleeps like a dormouse, has opened his eyes; or else I slip out by a back way by the postern gate. Don't you see?"
"I understand you very well, but your ideas seem to me very strange, Gideon."
"You, Fritz," he went on, without noticing my interruption, "you are a most excellent lad; Heaven has covered your head with innumerable blessings; just one glance at your jolly countenance, your frank, clear eyes, your good-natured smile, is enough to make any one happy. You positively bring good luck with you. I have always said so, and now would you like to have a proof?"
"Yes, indeed I should. It would be worth while to know how much there is in me without my having any knowledge of it."
"Well," said he, grasping my wrist, "look down there!"