So in time the morrow came, and by all rules I ought to have had a racking headache.  For I saw many of those that had been with me the night before pale of countenance and eating handfuls of baker’s salt.  So I judged that their anxiety and the turmoil of their hearts had not burned their liquor up, as had been the case with me.

Now it is small wonder that all my soul cried out for oblivion till I should be able to do something for the Beloved—­break her prison, hasten the troops from Plassenburg, or in some way save my love.

Hardly had I looked out of the main door that morning, desiring no more than to pass away the time till the trial should begin again, before I saw the Lubber Fiend, smirking and becking across the way.  He had squatted himself down on the side of the street opposite, looking over at the Bishop’s palace.

He pointed at me with his finger.

“Your complexion runs down,” he said.  “I know you.  But go to the spring there by the stable, wash your face, and I shall know you better.”

This was fair perdition and nothing less.  For one may stay the tongue of a scoundrel with money, or the expectation of it, until opportunity arrive to stop it with steel or prison masonry.  But who shall curb or halter the tongue of a fool?

Then, swift as one that sees his face in a glass, I bethought me of a plan.

“See,” I said, “do you desire gold, Sir Lubber Fiend?”

He wagged his great head and shook his cabbage-leaf ears till they made currents in the heavy air, to signify that he loved the touch of the yellow metal.

“See then, Lubber,” said I, “you shall have ten of these now, and ten more afterwards, if you will carry a letter to the Prince at Plassenburg, or meet him on the way.”

“Not possible,” said he, shaking his head sadly; “my little Missie has come to Thorn.”

“But,” said I, “little Missie would desire it; take letter to the Prince, good Jan, then Missie will be happy.”

“Would she let poor Jan Lubberchen kiss her hand, think you?” he asked, looking up at me.

“Aye,” said I; “kiss her cheek maybe!”

He danced excitedly from side to side.

“Jan will run—­Jan will run all the way!” he cried.

So I pulled out a scrap of parchment and wrote a hasty message to the Prince, asking him, for the love of God and us, to set every soldier in Plassenburg on the march for Thorn, and to come on ahead himself with such a flying column as he could gather.  No more I added, because I knew that my good master would need no more.

Then I went down with my messenger to the Weiss Thor, and with great fear and pulsation of the midriff I saw the idiot pass the house of Master Gerard.  Then, at the outer gate, I gave him his ten golden coins, and watched him trot away briskly on the green winding road to Plassenburg.

“Mind,” he called back to me, “Jan is to kiss her cheek if Jan takes letter to the Prince!”