First the Lieutenant took the road to Gross-Schlatten. Formerly when he had a servant, the servant constituted his retinue. But now for lack of a servant he was compelled to go from town to town in solitude, following the directions of the village magnate. As he was trotting through a defile he noticed in a thicket a group seated about a fire. At first he thought it was a party of gypsies, until approaching nearer he discovered to his great horror that they were Tartars who were roasting an ox and sat around it in a circle. To turn around was not advisable for the way led straight past the Tartars sunning themselves, so Clement decided it was best to act as if he had no fear, and trotted calmly past the staring group. He pretended to be counting with greatest interest the fruit beside the road, and when he was quite near took off his hat as if he noticed them for the first time, murmured hurriedly, "Salem Aleikum," and rode on without looking behind. So far, so good; but at this moment up jumped two Tartars and shouted after the rider to stop. When Clement saw that the two were running toward him without any weapons, he thought perhaps they had no intention of murder and waited for them. But when the two dark-faced creatures came near, they seized the rider between them, caught hold of his legs and gave evidence of no less intentions than to strip him of his fine boots.
"A curse upon your soul!" shouted the furious Clement, laid hold of his rusty sword and tried to draw it and cut off one of their ears. But the good blade had not been drawn from its scabbard for ten years and was so rusted that, in spite of all his efforts, Clement could not draw it out. Meantime the two Tartars pulled the struggling rider this way and that by his legs and naturally did not succeed in getting off the tight boots. The Tartars berated Clement, and Clement berated the Tartars. The uproar brought the Aga, a man with a figure like an orang-outang, his brown features framed by a white beard, who inquired hoarsely what was the matter.
Clement drew out his warrant of authority and showed it to the Aga in silence, for rage stifled his voice, while the two Tartars explained something in a foreign tongue, with angry gestures, and pointed to his green boots.
"Who are you, crooked-nosed unbeliever," inquired the Aga, "that you dare wear light-green, the sacred color of the prophets, that the faithful use only for the dances of their temples and the turban of the Padisha, and that too on your boots that go through the mud? May you be burned alive, you godless giaour!"
"I am the lieutenant reconnoitering in the service of his Excellency, Michael Apafi," declaimed the former student, with pathetic distress. "My person is sacred and inviolable. I am the man who provides the armies of the Sultan with food and drink. I impose the taxes. Let me go for I am a very important personage."
This manner of defense pleased the Tartars. The Aga gave his subjects a tacit sign that meant this was the very man they wanted, and then began to speak to him in a more friendly tone.
"You said that it was your business to announce the taxes. My lord, Ali Pasha of Nagy Varad, has just sent me here to announce a new tax, so I have met you at the right moment although it is nothing for you to do; it will, however, be a sensible thing for you to give this out at the same time."
"I will do so with pleasure," said Clement, eager to get away.
"Wait a moment," said the Aga, motioning to him. "You do not know yet how high the tax is to be. The whole amount is a mere trifle; it is imposed only so that they may recognize our authority. The tax is only a penny a head. That is not much, is it?"
"No indeed," said Clement, agreeing that he might get away the more quickly.