“I shall seek her out at once,” called the hetman over his shoulder.

Several minutes later there was a creaking of the great pulley; the ladder was lowered at the end of the rope which supported it. Looking over the side, Cugel saw that the cushions were about to be raised. The heavy rope supporting the ladder rattled through the pulley, bringing up a light line — hardly more than a stout cord — and on this cord the cushions were raised. Cugel inspected them with disapproval; they were old and dusty, and not at all of the quality he had envisioned. Most certainly he would insist upon furnishings superior to this! Possibly the hetman intended these merely as a stop-gap until cushions of the requisite elegance could be provided. Cugel nodded: this was obviously the situation.

He looked around the horizon. Magnatz was nowhere to be seen. He swung his arms once or twice, paced back and forth, and went to look down at the plaza, where he expected to find artisans assembling the appurtenances he had ordered. But there was no such activity; the townspeople appeared to be going about their usual affairs. Cugel shrugged, and went to make another inspection of the horizon. As before, Magnatz was invisible. Once more he surveyed the plaza. He frowned, squinted: was that his spouse Marlinka walking past in the company of a young man? He focused the optical device upon the supple shape: it was Marlinka indeed, and the young man who clasped her elbow with insolent intimacy was the huntsman to whom she had at one time been affianced. Cugel clamped his jaw in outrage. This sort of behavior could not continue! When Marlinfca presented herself, he would speak emphatically upon the subject.

The sun reached zenith; the cord quivered. Looking over the side Cugel saw that his noon repast was being hoisted in a basket, and he clapped his hands in anticipation. But the basket, when he lifted the cloth, contained only a half-loaf of bread, a chunk of tough meat and a flask of thin wine. Cugel stared at the sorry fare in shock, and decided to descend on the moment to set matters straight. He cleared his throat and called down for the ladder. No one appeared to hear him. He called more loudly. One or two of the folk looked up in mild curiosity, and passed on about their business. Cugel jerked angrily at the cord and hauled it over the pulley, but no heavy rope appeared nor a rope ladder. The light line was an endless loop, capable of supporting approximately the weight of a basket of food.

Thoughtfully Cugel sat back, and assessed the situation. Then, directing the optical device once more upon the plaza, he searched for the hetman, the one man to whom he might turn for satisfaction.