I carried out my threat and rushed to the burgomaster's residence. He was still asleep, but I dragged him out of bed, and told him the French were coming to attack the town. That drove slumber from his eyes; and I proceeded to lay my complaint before him. He kept yawning the while so dreadfully that I feared he might swallow me before I got through with my story.
When I concluded, he deliberated several minutes, then said I should come again the next day—he would have to think over the matter.
I was forced to go back to my wife. I couldn't help myself, for I hadn't a groschen to my name, and the Nimeguen inns will not receive a guest unless he pays in advance for his entertainment.
To my shame therefore I was compelled to go home, and now it was my wife who raged and scolded. She said I might complain as much, and to whomsoever I wanted, it would benefit me nothing. If I did not accept the situation with a good humor, mine would be the loss—and so on.
I bore her taunts, and revilings, in silence, for I felt great need of supper and rest; but I said to myself: "There is a tomorrow—I'll have my revenge then!"
The next day I went again to the burgomaster; he was able to keep awake this time.
He asked me if he should speak to me as to a Nimeguen gunner, or an East Indian sovereign?
"As to an Indian rajah," I replied.
"Very good!—also: Sublime Maharajah, nabob, or Shah—whichever is the proper title—be seated." My title permitted me to put on my hat, while respect for it obliged the burgomaster to remove his office cap. He continued: "Be kind enough to answer the following questions: How many wives does the law permit an Indian sovereign to marry? How many elephants, camels, rhinoceroses, male and female genii, and other draught cattle, is he allowed to employ in his service?"
I saw what would be the result if I answered these questions, so I said instead: