"Jest, or earnest?" asked the Emperor.

"Earnest, deep, well-founded earnest," replied the other with an upward
glance whose solemn devotion showed the sovereign that mischief was
concealed behind it. "Let your Majesty judge for yourself. He is a
knight of good family, and looks like a plain burgher. His name is Wolf
Hartschwert, and he is as gentle as a lamb and as pliant as a young
willow. He appears like the meek, whom our Lord calls blessed, and yet
he is one of the wisest of the wise, and, moreover, a master in his art.
Wherever he shows himself, delusion follows delusion, and every one
redounds to his advantage, for whoever took him for an insignificant man
must doff his hat when he utters his name. If a shrewd fellow supposed
that this sheep would not know A from B, he'll soon give him nuts to
crack which are far too hard for many a learned master of arts. Nobody
expects chivalric virtues and the accompanying expenditure from this
simple fellow; yet he practises them, and, when he once opens his hand,
people stare at him as they do at flying fish and the hen that lays a
golden egg. Appreciative surprise gazes at him, beseeching forgiveness,
wherever he is known, as surely as happy faces welcome your Majesty's
entry into any Netherland city. Fortune, lavish when she once departs
from her wonted niggardliness, guards this her favourite child from
disappointment and misconstruction."

"The blessing of those who are more than they seem," replied the Emperor.

"That is his also," sighed Malfalconnet. "That man, your Majesty, and I
the poorest of the poor! I was born a baron, and, as the greatest piece
of good fortune, obtained the favour of my illustrious master. Now
everybody expects from me magnificence worthy of my ancient name, and a