“Very well,” said the drummer. “It is little enough for such a wonderful oracle as this is, but I have taken a fancy to you, and I cannot refuse. Give me the money.” So the bargain was concluded. Donatus received the hundred crowns, and in return handed over the drum. Then he bade farewell to his host and was just going out of the door when the latter called after him: “Stay a moment—I have just thought of something. How am I to understand the language which the oracle speaks?”
“Oh, that is easy enough,” answered Donatus. “Listen while I tell you what to do. At ten o’clock, precisely, not a minute before or a minute afterwards, go and plant your wife in the ground up to her armpits, then smear her face and shoulders with honey. That done, take the oracle with you into the attic where you found me, and having first bandaged your eyes, remove the top skin of the drum. Wait for a quarter of an hour; then replace the skin, and take the drum with you to the place where you left your wife. In that very moment the meaning of the oracle’s language will be revealed to you, and you will know as much as I know myself!”
“Many thanks!” cried the peasant delightedly. “Good day to you, soldier, and good luck!”
“And to you!” answered the drummer, and he went away laughing up his sleeve at the fellow’s simplicity.
About a mile farther along the road he saw a man working in the fields, and went up to him.
“If you like, gossip,” said he, “I’ll do a bit of that digging for you.”
“With all my heart,” answered the labourer, giving up his spade.
HE HAD FAITHFULLY CARRIED OUT ALL HIS INSTRUCTIONS