Balby flew away, and soon returned with the burning cigar; the king lit the sealing-wax, and put the seal under the passport.
“This will proclaim us free from all crime. Now, brother Henry, call the worthy postmaster.”
When Niclas received the passport from the king’s hand his countenance cleared, and he made the two gentlemen a graceful bow, and begged them to excuse the severity that his duty made necessary.
“We have now entirely convinced you that we are honest people,” said the king, smiling, “and you will forgive us that we have so little baggage.”
“Well, I understand,” said Mr. Niclas, confusedly, “musicians are seldom rich, but live from hand to mouth, and must thank God if their clothes are good and clean. Yours are entirely new, and you need no baggage.”
The king laughed merrily. “Can we now go?” he asked.
“Yes; but how, sir? You doubtlessly heard that the postilion left as soon as you entered the house.”
“Consequently we are without a conveyance; we have paid for our places for nothing, and must remain in this miserable place,” said the king, impatiently.
Niclas reddened with anger. “Sir, what right have you to call the town of Grave a miserable place? Believe me, it would be very difficult for you to become a citizen of this miserable place, for you must prove that you have means enough to live in a decent manner, and it appears to me—”
“That we do not possess them,” said the king; “vraiment, you are right, our means are very insufficient, and as the inhabitants of Grave will not grant us the rights of citizens, it is better for us to leave immediately. Have, therefore, the goodness to furnish us with the means of doing so.”