“Oh, your Highness,” said the Konrektor, “I don’t need to come in.”
“Ay, but I need you in here; but you can’t come in like that; you’ll drag in the lightning. Rand, another silk dressing-gown and nightcap, and the red-waxed shoes!”
Resistance was useless, he had to give in; and in a short time he stood there in a black nightcap and a bright orange bed-gown and red shoes; and he stood like a sorcerer in olden times, who might be supposed to have changed an unfortunate prince into a canary-bird, and put him into a glass-box, where it was likely he would have to stay for ever, for naught but the sweet kiss of a beauteous fairy upon his beak could ransom him, and his Highness was possessed of a holy horror of kissing, and there was no beauteous fairy near, for Rand, who was the only other person about, could not possibly figure as such.
When the old sorcerer sat beside his enchanted victim, his Highness ordered Rand out, because the exhalations of so many persons might draw the lightning, but told him to put his head in at the door from time to time and give the news concerning the weather; and Rand was quite willing, for now he could run over to the baker’s wife and have some talk.
“What say you, Konrektor? Is it safe now?” asked his Highness.
“Ay, so far as I can see.”
“But is it quite safe?”
“Well, your Highness, what man can do has been done; but what are mortal measures against the will of our Lord God?”
“That’s what I say,” exclaimed his Highness; “that fool the carpenter was to have made it round, and he made it square. Corners always draw lightning.”
“What good would that do? If our Lord God sees best He can blow away the whole of Neu-Brandenburg in a moment. Think of Sodom and Gomorrah.”