“He that would gain credit for knowledge of the future,” gravely observed the Signor Grimaldi, who had listened to his countryman’s voluble eulogium on his own merits with a good-natured laugh, “had best commence by showing his familiarity with the past.  Who and what is he that speaks to thee, as a specimen of thy skill in sooth-saying?”

“His eccellenza is more than he seems, less than he deserves to be, and as much as any present.  He hath an old and a prized friend at his elbow; hath come because it was his pleasure, to witness the games at Vevey—­will depart for the same reason, when they are over, and will seek his home at his leisure—­not like a fox stealing into his hole, but as the stately ship sails, gallantly, and by the light of the sun, into her haven.”

“This will never do, Pippo,” returned the good-humoured old noble; “at need I might equal this myself.  Thou shouldst relate that which is less probable, while it is more true.”

“Signore, we prophets like to sleep in whole skins.  If it be your eccellenza’s pleasure and that of your noble company to listen to the truly wonderful, I will tell some of these honest people matters touching their own interests that they do not know themselves, and yet it shall be as clear to every body else as the sun in the heavens at noon-day.”

“Thou wilt, probably, tell them their faults?”

“Your eccellenza has a right to my place, for no prophet could have better divined my intention;” answered the laughing knave.  “Come nearer, friend,” he added, beckoning to the Bernois; “thou art Nicklaus Wagner, a fat peasant of the great canton, and a warm husbandman, that fancies he has a title to the respect of all he meets because some one among his fathers bought a right in the buergerschaft.  Thou hast a large stake in the Winkelried, and art at this moment thinking what punishment is good enough for an impudent soothsayer who dares dive so unceremoniously into the secrets of so warm a citizen, while all around thee wish thy cheeses had never left the dairy, to the discomfort of our limbs and to the great detriment of the bark’s speed.”

This sally at the expense of Nicklaus drew a burst of merriment from the listeners; for the selfish spirit he had manifested throughout the day had won little favor with a majority of his fellow travellers, who had all the generous propensities that are usually so abundant among those who have little or nothing to bestow, and who were by this time so well disposed to be merry that much less would have served to stimulate their mirth.

“Wert thou the owner of this good freight friend, thou might find its presence less uncomfortable than thou now appearest to think,” returned the literal peasant, who had no humour for raillery, and to whom a jest on the subject of property had that sort of irreverend character that popular opinion and holy sayings have attached to waste.  “The cheeses are well enough where they find themselves; if thou dislikest their company thou hast the alternative of the water.”