The Surprising Adventures of Baron Munchausen / Приключения барона Мюнхгаузена. Уровень 1. Рудольф Эрих Распе

to break them. That’s why I don’t blow too hard: from one nostril only.”

      “This man will be useful to me,” I thought, and took him into my service, too.

      So, gentlemen, such wonderful men became my servants. And they served me well!

      Chinese Wine

      In Egypt, I soon completed the Sultan’s task. My resourcefulness helped me there, too. A week later, I returned to the Turkish capital with my extraordinary servants.

      The Sultan was glad to see me back.

      “You are cleverer than all my ministers, my dear Munchausen!” he said and shook my hand. “Come and dine with me today!”

      The dinner was very delicious, but – alas! – there was no wine on the table. I was very much distressed, and the Sultan took me to his study after dinner. He opened a secret cupboard, and took out a bottle.

      “This is the most excellent wine in the world, my dear Munchausen!” he said.

      The wine was really good. But after the first sip, I said that in China the wine was better.

      “My dear Munchausen!” the Sultan exclaimed. “I believe every word you say, because you are the most truthful man in the world, but I swear that you are not telling the truth now. This wine is the best!”

      “No. I tasted better wine, indeed.”

      “Munchausen, you are talking nonsense!”

      “No, I am telling you the truth, and I will deliver you a bottle of wine from China in an hour. You will compare the bottles and see yourself.”

      “Munchausen, you play with fire! Now I see that you are a shameless liar!”

      “You can make certain of it[31] yourself. I am telling the truth!”

      “I agree!” the Sultan replied. “If you don’t bring me a bottle of the best wine in the world from China by four o’clock, I’ll have your head cut off[32].”

      “Great!” I exclaimed. “But if you have this wine by four o’clock, you will give me as much gold as one man can carry.”

      The Sultan agreed. I wrote a letter to the Chinese seller and asked him to give me a bottle of his best wine.

      “If you refuse my request,” I wrote, “your friend Munchausen will die.”

      It was five minutes past three.

      I called my runner and sent him to the Chinese capital. He untied the weights from his feet, took the letter, and in was out of sight.

      I went back to the Sultan’s office. It struck a quarter past three, then half past three, then three-quarters past four. My runner didn’t come.