Master Gryphus, to see that your arm is doing well, as you are able to hold your lantern with it.”
Gryphus knitted his brow. “Now, that’s just it.” he said; “people always make blunders in politics. His Highness has granted you your life; I’m sure I should. never have done so.”
“Don’t say so,” replied Cornelius; “why not?”
“Because you are the very man to conspire again. You learned people have dealings with the devil.”
“Nonsense, Master Gryphus. Are you dissatisfied with the manner in which I have set your arm, or with the price that I asked you?” said Cornelius, laughing.
“On the contrary,” growled the jailor, “you have set it only too well. There is some witchcraft in this. After six weeks, I was able to use it as if nothing had happened; so much so, that the doctor of the Buitenhof, who knows his trade well, wanted to break it again, to set it in the regular way, and promised me that I should have my blessed three months for my money, before I should be able to move it.”
“And you did not want that?”
“I said, ‘Nay, as long as I can make the sign of the cross with that arm’ (Gryphus was a Roman Catholic), ‘I laugh at the devil.’”
But if you laugh at the devil, Master Gryphus, you ought with so much more reason to laugh at learned people.”
“Ah, learned people, learned people. Why I would rather have to guard ten soldiers than one scholar. The soldiers smoke, guzzle, and get drunk; they are as gentle as lambs, if you only give them brandy or Moselle; but scholars, and drink, smoke and fuddle—ah, yes, that’s altogether different. They keep sober, spend nothing, and have their heads always clear to make conspiracies. But I tell you, at the very outset, it
