He led me a pretty chase, through numerous byways and alleys, where there was hardly room for two persons to pass, to a shop in front of which was sitting an aged dame, with her cap drawn down to her eyebrows.
Said my guide, after I had placed the denarius in his hand:
"This woman knows where Malachi lives—she will tell you;" and before I could stop him, the little rascal was off down the street as fast as his legs could carry him.
I turned to the crone, who kept nodding her old head as if she were assenting to anything I might say to her, took from my pocket a Marien-groschen, and holding it toward her, said:
"Here, mother, this pretty coin shall be yours if you will direct me to Malachi's house."
She nodded—as much as to say "very good;" rose from her chair, shuffled into the shop, where she filled a small vial with red Polish brandy. This she handed to me with one hand, at the same time extending the other for the money.
"I don't want brandy—I want to know where Malachi lives?" I shouted at the top of my voice.
The dame trotted back into the shop and brought a bottle of green Russian brandy.
The little scamp had left me to deal with a deaf woman! When I bawled into her ear for the third time the name of Malachi, she fetched from the shop a packet of insect powder which she offered in exchange for the Marien-groschen.
Then I bethought me of an expedient which is usually successful in like cases: I took from my pocket a crown and held it toward the dame. This cure for deafness proved effective.