"I started off at once to the largest town," said she, "but the name of
it has escaped me. I have a very bad memory for names. I was carried
from the railway, with some goods on which duties had not been paid, to
the jail, and on arriving I made my escape, running into the house of
the keeper. He was speaking of his prisoners, especially of one who had
uttered thoughtless words. These words had given rise to other words,
and at length they were written down and registered. 'The whole affair
is like making soup of sausage skewers,' said he, 'but the soup may cost
him his neck.'
"Now this raised in me an interest for the prisoner," continued the
little mouse, "and I watched my opportunity and slipped into his
apartment, for there is a mousehole to be found behind every closed
door.
"The prisoner, who had a great beard and large, sparkling eyes, looked
pale. There was a lamp burning, but the walls were so black that they
only looked the blacker for it. The prisoner scratched pictures and
verses with white chalk on the black walls, but I did not read the
verses. I think he found his confinement wearisome, so that I was a
welcome guest. He enticed me with bread crumbs, with whistling, and with
gentle words, and seemed so friendly towards me that by degrees I gained
confidence in him and we became friends. He divided his bread and water
with me and gave me cheese and sausage, and I began to love him.
Altogether, I must own that it was a very pleasant intimacy. He let me
run about on his hand, on his arm, into his sleeve, and even into his
beard. He called me his little friend, and I forgot for what I had come
out into the world; forgot my sausage skewer, which I had laid in a
crack in the floor, where it is still lying. I wished to stay with him
always, for I knew that if I went away, the poor prisoner would have no
one to be his friend, which is a sad thing.
"I stayed, but he did not. He spoke to me so mournfully for the last
time, gave me double as much bread and cheese as usual, and kissed his
hand to me. Then he went away and never came back. I know nothing more
of his history.
"The jailer took possession of me now. He said something about soup from
a sausage skewer, but I could not trust him. He took me in his hand,
certainly, but it was to place me in a cage like a treadmill. Oh, how
dreadful it was! I had to run round and round without getting any
farther, and only to make everybody laugh.
"The jailer's granddaughter was a charming little thing. She had merry
eyes, curly hair like the brightest gold, and such a smiling mouth.
"'You poor little mouse,' said she one day, as she peeped into my cage,
'I will set you free.' She then drew forth the iron fastening, and I
sprang out on the window-sill, and from thence to the roof. Free! free!
that was all I could think of, and not of the object of my journey.
"It grew dark, and as night was coming on I found a lodging in an old
tower, where dwelt a watchman and an owl. I had no confidence in either
of them, least of all in the owl, which is like a cat and has a great
failing, for she eats mice. One may, however, be mistaken sometimes, and
I was now, for this was a respectable and well-educated old owl, who
knew more than the watchman and even as much as I did myself. The young
owls made a great fuss about everything, but the only rough words she
would say to them were, 'You had better go and try to make some soup
from sausage skewers.' She was very indulgent and loving to her own
children. Her conduct gave me such confidence in her that from the crack
where I sat I called out 'Squeak.'
"This confidence pleased her so much that she assured me she would take
me under her own protection and that not a creature should do me harm.
The fact was, she wickedly meant to keep me in reserve for her own
eating in the winter, when food would be scarce. Yet she was a very
clever lady-owl. She explained to me that the watchman could only hoot
with the horn that hung loose at his side and that he was so terribly
proud of it that he imagined himself an owl in the tower, wanted to do
great things, but only succeeded in small--soup from a sausage skewer.
"Then I begged the owl to give me the recipe for this soup. 'Soup from a
sausage skewer,' said she, 'is only a proverb amongst mankind and may be
understood in many ways. Each believes his own way the best, and, after
all, the proverb signifies nothing.' 'Nothing!' I exclaimed. I was quite
struck. Truth is not always agreeable, but truth is above everything
else, as the old owl said. I thought over all this and saw quite plainly
that if truth was really so far above everything else, it must be much
more valuable than soup from a sausage skewer. So I hastened to get
away, that I might be in time and bring what was highest and best and
above everything--namely, the truth.
"The mice are enlightened people, and the mouse-king is above them all.
He is therefore capable of making me queen for the sake of truth."
"Your truth is a falsehood," said the mouse who had not yet spoken. "I
can prepare the soup, and I mean to do so."