The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Iv Part 42

KING.

Too much! too much! I am sinking under the burden of grat.i.tude!

Long since should I have done my duty and visited him; today I will delay no longer. Have my royal carriage prepared at once--eight horses in front--I want to go driving with my daughter. You, Hunter, are to show us the way to the castle of the count.

[_Exit with retinue._]

HINZE. JACKPUDDING

HINZE.

What was your disputation about, anyhow?

JACKPUD.

I a.s.serted that a certain play, which, moreover, I am not acquainted with at all, _Puss in Boots_, is a wretched play.

HINZE.

So?

JACKPUD.

Adieu, Sir Hunter.

[_Exit._]

HINZE (_alone_).

I'm all in the dumps. I, myself, helped the fool win a victory against a play in which I myself am taking the leading part.

Fate! Fate! Into what complications do you so often lead us mortals?

But be that as it may. If I only succeed in putting my beloved Gottlieb on the throne, I will gladly forget all my other troubles.

The king wishes to visit the count? Now that is another bad situation which I must clear up; now the great, important day has arrived on which I need you so particularly, you boots. Now do not desert me; all must be determined today.

[_Exit._]

FISCHER.

Do tell me what this is--the play itself--it appears again as a play in the play.

SCHLOSS.

Without much ceremony, I am crazy--didn't I say at once, that is the enjoyment of art which you are said to have here?

LEUTNER.

No tragedy has ever affected me as this farce has.

_In front of the tavern_

THE HOST (_reaping corn with a scythe_).

This is hard work! Well, of course people cannot be deserting every day either. I only wish the harvest were over. After all, life consists of nothing but work; now draw beer, then clean gla.s.ses, then pour it out--now even reap. Life means work--and here some learned folk are even so wicked, in their books, as to try to put sleep out of fas.h.i.+on, because one does not live enough for one's time. But I am a great friend of sleep.

[_Enter_ HINZE.]

HINZE.

Whoever wants to hear something wonderful, listen to me now! How I have been running!--first from the royal palace to Gottlieb, second with Gottlieb to the palace of the Bugbear where I left him, third from there back again to the king, fourth I am now racing ahead of the king's coach like a courier and showing him the way. Hey! good friend!

HOST.

Who's that? Countryman, you must probably be a stranger, for the people in this neighborhood know that I do not sell any beer about this time; I need it for myself; when one does work like mine, one must also fortify one's self. I am sorry, but I cannot help you.

HINZE.

I do not want any beer, I never drink beer; I only want to say a few words to you.

HOST.

You must certainly be a regular idler, to attempt to disturb industrious people in their occupation.

HINZE.

I do not wish to disturb you. Just listen: the neighboring king will drive by here, he will probably step out of his carriage and inquire to whom these villages belong. If your life is dear to you, if you do not wish to be hanged or burned, then be sure to answer: to the Count of Carabas.

HOST.

But, Sir, we are subject to the law.

HINZE.

I know that well enough, but, as I said, if you do not wish to die, this region here belongs to the Count of Carabas.

[_Exit._]

HOST.

Many thanks! Now this would be the finest kind of opportunity for me to get out of ever having to work again. All I need do is to say to the king--the country belongs to the Bugbear. But no, idleness breeds vice: _Ora et labora_ is my motto.

[_A fine carriage with eight horses, many servants behind; it stops; the_ KING _and_ PRINCESS _step out._]

PRINCESS.

I am somewhat curious to see the Count.

KING.

So am I, my daughter. Good day, my friend. To whom do these villages here belong?