'What's to pay?' said Jesus Christ, when they had finished their meal.
'Nothing at all,' answered the host.
But the host had a little hunchback son, who said to him, 'I know some
have found it answer to give these people food instead of making them
pay for it; but suppose they forget to give us anything, we shall be
worse off than if we had been paid in the regular way. I will tell
you what I'll do now, so as to have a hold over them. I'll take one
of our silver spoons and put it in the bag that one of them carries,
and accuse them of stealing it.'
Now St. Peter was a great eater, and when anything was left over from a
good meal he was wont to put it by in a bag against a day when they had
nothing. Into this bag therefore the hunchback put the silver spoon.
When they had gone on a little way the young hunchback ran after them
and said to Jesus Christ,--
'Signore! one of these with you has stolen a spoon from us.'
'You are mistaken, friend; there is not one of them who would do such
a thing.'
'Yes,' persevered the hunchback; 'it is that one who took it,' and
he pointed to St. Peter.
'I!!' said St. Peter, getting very angry. 'How dare you to say such
a thing of me!'
But Jesus Christ made him a sign that he should keep silence.
'We will go back to your house and help you to look for what you
have lost, for that none of us have taken the spoon is most certain,'
He said; and He went back with the hunchback.
'There is nowhere to search,' answered the hunchback, 'but in that
man's bag; I know it is there, because I saw him take it.'
'Then there's my bag inside out,' said St. Peter, as he cast the
contents upon the floor. Of course the silver spoon fell clattering
upon the bricks.
'There!' said the hunchback, insolently. 'Didn't I tell you it was
there? You said it wasn't!'
St. Peter was so angry he could not trust himself to speak; but Jesus
Christ answered for him:
'Nay, I said not it was not there, but that none of these had taken
it. And now we will see who it was put it there.' With that He motioned
to them all to stand back, while He, standing in the midst and raising
his eyes to Heaven, said solemnly,
'Let whoso put it in the bag be turned to stone!'
Even as He spoke the hunchback was turned into stone.
6
There was another tavern, however, where the host was a different
sort of man, and not only said he would take nothing when Jesus Christ
and His disciples dined there, but really would never take anything;
nor was it that by any miracle he had received advantages of another
sort, but out of the respect and affection he bore the Master he
deemed himself sufficiently paid by the honour of being allowed to
minister to Him.
One day when Jesus Christ and His disciples were going away on a
journey, St. Peter went to this host and said, 'You have been very
liberal to us all this time: if you were to ask for some gift, now,
you would be sure to get it.'
'I don't know that there is anything that I want,' said the host. 'I
have a thriving trade, which you see not only supplies all my wants,
but leaves me the means of being liberal also; I have no wife to
provide for, and no children to leave an inheritance to: so what
should I ask for? There is one thing, to be sure, I should like. My
only amusement is playing at cards: if He would give me the faculty
of always winning, I should like that; it isn't that I care for what
one wins, it is that it is nice to win. Do you think I might ask that?'
'I don't know,' said St. Peter, gravely. 'Still you might ask; He is
very kind.'
The host did ask, and Jesus Christ granted his desire. When St. Peter
saw how easily He granted it, he said, 'If I were you, I should ask
something more.'
'I really don't know what else I have to ask,' replied the host,
'unless it be that I have a fig-tree which bears excellent figs, but
I never can get one of them for myself; they are always stolen before
I get them. I wish He would order that whoever goes up to steal them
might get stuck to the tree till I tell him he may come down.'
'Well,' said St. Peter, 'it is an odd sort of thing to ask, but you
might try; He is very kind.'
The host did ask, and Jesus Christ granted his request. When St. Peter
saw that He granted it so easily, he said, 'If I were you I should
ask something more.'
'Do you really think I might?' answered the host. 'There is one thing
I have wanted to ask all along, only I didn't dare. But you encourage
me, and He seems to take a pleasure in giving. I have always had a
great wish to live four hundred years.'
'That is certainly a great deal to ask,' said St. Peter, 'but you
might try; He is very kind.'
The host did ask, and Jesus Christ granted his petition, and then
went His way with His disciples. St. Peter remained last, and said
to the host, 'Now run after him, and ask for the salvation of your
soul.' ('St. Peter always told them all to ask that,' added the
narrator in a confidential tone.)
'Oh, I can't ask anything more, I have asked so much,' said the host.
'But that is just the best thing of all, and what He grants the most
willingly,' insisted St. Peter. 'Really?' said the host; and he ran
after Jesus Christ, and said, 'Lord! who hast so largely shown me
Thy bounty, grant me further the salvation of my soul.'
'Let it be granted!' said Jesus Christ; and continued His journey.
All the things the host had asked he received, and life passed away
very pleasantly, but still even four hundred years come to an end at
last, and with the end of it came Death.
'What! is that you, Mrs. Death, [148] come already?' said the host.
'Why, it's time I should come, I think; it's not often I leave people
in peace for four hundred years.'
'All right, but don't be in a hurry. I have such a fancy for the
figs of that fig-tree of mine there. I wish you would just have the
kindness to go up and pluck a good provision of them to take with me,
and by that time I'll be ready to go with you.'
'I've no objection to oblige you so far,' said Mrs. Death; 'only you
must mind and be quite ready by the time I do come back.'
'Never fear,' said the host; and Mrs. Death climbed up the fig-tree.
'Now stick there!' said the host, and for all her struggling Mrs. Death
could by no means extricate herself any more.
'I can't stay here, so take off your spell; I have my business to
attend to,' said she.
'So have I,' answered the host; 'and if you want to go about your
business, you must promise me, on your honour, you will leave me to
attend to mine.'
'I can't do it, my man! What are you asking? It's more than my place
is worth. Every man alive has to pass through my hands. I can't let
any of them off.'
'Well, at all events, leave me alone another four hundred years,
and then I'll come with you. If you'll promise that, I'll let you
out of the fig-tree.'
'I don't mind another four hundred years, if you so particularly wish
for them; but mind you give me your word of honour you come then,
without giving me all this trouble again.'
'Yes! and here's my hand upon it,' said the host, as he handed
Mrs. Death down from the fig-tree.
And so he went on to live another four hundred years. ('For you know
in those times men lived to a very great age,' was the running gloss
of the narrator.)
The end of the second four hundred years came too, and then Mrs. Death
appeared again. 'Remember your promise,' she said, 'and don't try
any trick on me this time.'
'Oh, yes! I always keep my word,' said the host, and without more
ado he went along with her.
As she was carrying him up to Paradise, they passed the way which led
down to Hell, and at the opening sat the Devil, receiving souls which
his ministers brought to him from all parts. He was marshalling them
into ranks, and ticketing them ready to send off in batches to the
distinct place for each.
'You seem to have got plenty of souls there, Mr. Devil,' said the
host. 'Suppose we sit down and play for them?'
'I've no objection,' said the Devil. 'Your soul against one of
these. If I win, you go with them; if you win, one of them goes
with you.'
'That's it,' said the host, and picking out a nice-looking soul,
he set him for the Devil's stake.
Of course the host won, and the nice-looking soul was passed round
to his side of the table.
'Shall we have another game?' said the host, quite cock-a-hoop.
The Devil hesitated for a moment, but finally he yielded. The host
picked out a soul that took his fancy, for the Devil's stake, and
they sat down to play again, with the same result.
So they went on and on till the host had won fifteen thousand souls
of the Devil. 'Come,' said Death when they had got as far as this,
'I really can't wait any longer. I never had to do with anyone who
took up so much time as you. Come along!'
So the host bowed excuses to the Devil for having had all the luck, and
went cheerfully the way Mrs. Death led, with all his fifteen thousand
souls behind him. Thus they arrived at the gate of Paradise. There
wasn't so much business going on there as at the other place, and
they had to ring before anyone appeared to open the door.
'Who's there?' said St. Peter.
'He of the four hundred years!'
'And what is all that rabble behind?' asked St. Peter.
'Souls that I have won of the Devil for Paradise,' answered the host.
'Oh, that won't do at all, here!' said St. Peter.
'Be kind enough to carry the message up to your Master,' responded
the host.
St. Peter went up to Jesus Christ. 'Here is he to whom you gave four
hundred years of life,' he said; 'and he has brought fifteen thousand
other souls, who have no title at all to Paradise, with him.'
'Tell him he may come in himself,' said Jesus Christ, 'but he has
nothing to do to meddle with the others.'
'Tell Him to be pleased to remember that when He came to my eating-shop
I never made any difficulty how many soever He brought with Him,
and if He had brought an army I should have said nothing,' answered
the host; and St. Peter took up that message too.
'That is true! that is right!' answered Jesus Christ. 'Let them all
in! let them all in!'
7