There stood a Wallachian with a sealed letter in his hand. He seemed to be much frightened when the door opened, although that was the fulfilment of his wishes.
"What is it?" said Clement, becoming angry when the peasant did not speak.
The Wallachian raised his round eyebrows, looked at the poet with wide-opened eyes and asked: "Are you the man who lies for money?"
In this choice language the Wallachian described the office of our Clement. His veins swelled with anger. "Whose ox are you?" he thundered at the Wallachian.
"The gracious lord's who sent this letter," answered the peasant, slily.
"What is his name?" asked Clement, furiously, and tore the letter from the Wallachian's hand.
"Gracious lord is what he is called."
Clement opened the letter and read: "Come at once to me where the bearer will lead you."
Clement was already raging, but now the thought that he had been summoned somewhere and had no boots made him beside himself.
"Go," he shouted to the Wallachian. "Tell your lord whoever he is, that it is no farther from him to me, than from me to him. If he wishes to speak with me let him take the trouble to come here."