"I can't eat this food," I exclaimed irritably. "I can't eat meat without salt."
"Salt?" repeated one of them. "Where should we get salt? There is no ocean in hell."
"But,"—I persisted—"I must have some salt—and if you have to fetch me Lot's wife—"
"Don't scold so, little man," jestingly interrupted Lilith, pulling my mustache. "Here—taste what is on my lips."
"I don't want honey—I want salt," I yelled, pushing her away. "Donner und Blitz! Give me salt, or I'll skin Lucifer!"
Now, a curse has the same effect on a demon that a prayer has on an angel.
The younger devils rushed with all speed possible to Lucifer's palace to fetch the only salt-cellar in the infernal regions; it is for the sole use of the king of evil. This salt-cellar is a large mussel-shell and looks like a christening bowl; it is filled with salt collected from the tears shed by penitent sinners who delayed their repentance until it was too late.
Two active little imps dragged the salt-cellar to my side.
"Here's salt at last—God be praised!" I exclaimed in a loud voice.
The next instant the table with its viands disappeared amid an unearthly din, and rumbling as of thunder. The demons sank cursing into the earth; the witches flew yelling into the air, and I fell backward to the ground unconscious.