"Modestia is an admirable virtue," the man declared. "In regard to your statement, I must say, mihi secus videtur, though I shall be happy to suspend my judicium."
"May I ask whom I have the pleasure of addressing?" the Councilor of Justice inquired.
"I am a Bachelor of Theology," the man told him in Latin.
This answer satisfied the Councilor of Justice, for the degree was in harmony with the fellow's way of dressing. "Obviously," he thought, "this is some old village schoolmaster, an odd character such as one still comes across now and then, up in Jut land."
"This is scarcely a locus docendi," the man continued, "but I entreat you to favor us with your conversation. You, of course, are well read in the classics?"
"Oh, more or less," the Councilor agreed. "I like to read the standard old books, and the new ones too, except for those 'Every Day Stories' of which we have enough in reality."
"Every Day Stories?" our bachelor asked.
"Yes, I mean these modern novels."
"Oh," the man said with a smile. "Still they are very clever, and are popular with the court. King Hans is particularly fond of the 'Romance of Iwain and Jawain,' which deals with King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. The king has been known to jest with his lords about it."
"Well," said the Councilor, "one can't keep up with all the new books. I suppose it has just been published by Heiberg."
"No," the man said, "not by Heiberg, but by Gotfred von Ghemen."
"Indeed! What a fine old name for a literary man. Why Gotfred von Ghemen was the first printer in Denmark."
"Yes," the man agreed, "he is our first and foremost printer."
Thus far, their conversation had flowed quite smoothly. Now one of the townsmen began to talk about the pestilence which had raged some years back, meaning the plague of 1484. The Councilor understood him to mean the last epidemic of cholera, so they agreed well enough.
The freebooter's War of 1490 was so recent that it could not be passed over. The English raiders had taken ships from our harbor, they said, and the Councilor of Justice, who was well posted on the affair of 1801, manfully helped them to abuse the English.
After that, however, the talk floundered from one contradiction to another. The worthy bachelor was so completely unenlightened that the Councilor's most commonplace remarks struck him as being too daring and too fantastic. They stared at each other, and when they reached an impasse the bachelor broke into Latin, in the hope that he would be better understood, but that didn't help.
The landlady plucked at the Councilor's sleeve and asked him, "How do you feel now?" This forcibly recalled to him all of those things which he had happily forgotten in the heat of his conversation.
"Merciful heaven, where am I?" he wondered, and the thought made him dizzy.
"We will drink claret wine, and mead, and Bremen beer," one of the guests cried out, "and you shall drink with us."
Two girls came in, and one of them wore a cap of two colors. They filled the glasses and made curtsies. The Councilor felt cold shivers up and down his spine. "What is all this? What is all this?" he groaned, but drink with them he must. They overwhelmed him with their kind intentions until he despaired, and when one man pronounced him drunk he didn't doubt it in the least. All he asked was that they get him a droschke." Then they thought he was speaking in Russian.
Never before had he been in such low and vulgar company! "One would think that the country had lapsed back into barbarism," he told himself. "This is the most dreadful moment of my life."
Then it occurred to him to slip down under the table, crawl to the door, and try to sneak out, but just as he neared the threshold his companions discovered him and tried to pull him out by his feet. However, by great good luck they pulled off his galoshes, and-with them-the whole enchantment.
The Councilor of Justice now distinctly saw a street lamp burning in front of a large building. He knew the building and the other buildings near-by. It was East Street as we all know it today. He lay on the pavement with his legs against a gate, and across the way a night watchman sat fast asleep.