"By the camel's-hair coat, of St. John the Baptist!" flared up Master Spazzo, "and if I were to come to you in my shirt, the garment would be good enough, to appear as a herald, before your black cowls!"
He put on his helmet again, from which the feathers seemed to nod triumphantly. "Pay me at once, so that I can go on again. The air is bad here, very bad indeed." ...
"Allow me," said the Abbot, "but we never permit a guest to depart in anger from our island. You are sharp and urgent, because you have not yet dined. Don't disdain a meal, such as the monastery can offer, and let us talk of business afterwards."
That a fellow in return for his rudeness, is kindly pressed to stay to dinner, made some impression on the chamberlain's mind. He took off his helmet again. "The sovereign rights shall not be trampled upon by monastic insolence," muttered he once more; but the Abbot pointed over to the open cloister-kitchen. The fair-haired kitchen-boy was turning the spit before the fire and smacking his lips, for a lovely smell of the roast meat had entered his nostrils just then. Some covered dishes, calling up pleasant anticipations were standing in the background; whilst a monk, bearing a huge wine-jug, was just coming up from the cellar. The aspect was too tempting, to resist any longer. So Master Spazzo laid aside his frown, and accepted the invitation.
When he had arrived at the third dish, his insulting speeches became more scarce, and when the red wine of Meersburg, was sparkling in the beaker, they ceased entirely. The red wine of Meersburg was good.
Meanwhile Rudimann rode out of the convent-gate. The fisherman of Ermatingen, had caught a gigantic salmon, which lay, fresh and glittering, in the vaults below. This fish had been selected by Rudimann, as a suitable present for appeasing the Duchess. Before he set out, however, he had still something to do in the copying room of the monastery. A lay-brother was to accompany him, with the huge fish, packed up in straw, lying before him on the saddle. Master Spazzo had ridden over in the haughtiest fashion, whereas Rudimann now assumed his most humble expression. He spoke shyly, and in low accents, when he asked for the Duchess. "She is in the garden," was the reply. "And my pious confrater Ekkehard?" asked the cellarer.
"He has accompanied the wounded Cappan, to his cottage on the Hohenstoffeln, where he is nursing him, so that he is not expected home before night."
"This I am truly sorry to hear," said Rudimann, with an evil expression of spite hovering about his lips. He then had the salmon unpacked, and put on the granite table in the middle of the courtyard. The tall lime-tree threw its cool shade over the glistening scales of the royal fish, and it was as if its large eye had still retained the power of sight, and were longingly looking away from the green branches, to the blue waves of its native element.
The fish measured above six feet in length, and Praxedis screamed outright, when its straw covers were taken off. "He does not come home before night-fall," muttered Rudimann, breaking off a strong branch from the tree, a piece of which he put between the jaws of the fish, so that it remained with wide open mouth. With some of the leaves, he carefully lined the inside, and then diving down into his breast-pocket, he drew out thence the parchment leaves of Gunzo's libel. Rolling them first neatly up, he then stuck them between the jaws of the salmon.
With unfeigned astonishment, Praxedis had been watching the strange proceeding.