All four then entered the house and betook themselves to bed. The priest, thinking perchance there might be a deluge, laid hold of a great trough, set it upon a shelf, and put himself to sleep in the trough.
“If there be a deluge,” thought he to himself, “I shall float upon the top of it in the trough.”
The strolling player laid himself down by the hearth, his head in the ashes; the peasant reclined on the bench behind the table; and the priest’s labourer stretched himself on the stool by the window. Hardly had they lain down ere they fell into deep slumber, excepting the labourer, who alone slept not. He it was who heard the lover of the mistress of the house come beneath the window and knock, saying:
“Open, my beloved.”
The labourer arose, opened the window, and spake in low tones, saying:
“Beloved, thou comest at an ill moment. Strangers are within my house, passing the night therein. Come thou the next night.”
“I go, beloved,” answered the lover. “But lean thou from the window that we may embrace.”
The labourer turned his posterior to the window and thrust out his backside. The lover embraced it with rapture.
“I go ... adieu, my beloved. Fare thee well. I will return to-morrow night.”
“Go, loved one. I will await thee, but, as a parting gift, give me thy yard, which I will hold for several moments in my hand. ‘Twill console me somewhat.”