"Not a heller, not a heller; my father was hangman of Lucerne, and
when he died, his body was seized to pay his debts."
"Then doubtless," said I, "you intend to ply your trade of soap-
boiling at Lucerne; you are quite right, my friend, I know of no
occupation more honourable or useful."
"I have no thoughts of plying my trade at Lucerne," replied Bennet;
"and now, as I see you are a German man, Lieber Herr, and as I like
your countenance and your manner of speaking, I will tell you in
confidence that I know very little of my trade, and have already
been turned out of several fabriques as an evil workman; the two
wash-balls that I carry in my pocket are not of my own making. In
kurtzen, I know little more of soap-boiling than I do of tailoring,
horse-farriery, or shoe-making, all of which I have practised."
"Then I know not how you can hope to live like a hertzog in your
native canton, unless you expect that the men of Lucerne, in
consideration of your services to the Pope and to the king of
Spain, will maintain you in splendour at the public expense."
"Lieber Herr," said Benedict, "the men of Lucerne are by no means
fond of maintaining the soldiers of the Pope and the king of Spain
at their own expense; many of the guard who have returned thither
beg their bread in the streets, but when I go, it shall be in a
coach drawn by six mules, with a treasure, a mighty schatz which
lies in the church of Saint James of Compostella, in Galicia."
"I hope you do not intend to rob the church," said I; "if you do,
however, I believe you will be disappointed.
