She promised more than she really thought she could do, but she was afraid of her husband, who was on fire to sell his fish above its price and would beat her if she proved incapable.
‘Ten florins,’ cried the grasping man, ‘and it’s a bargain! You travelling nobilities will have a dish for supper such as has hardly been offered to you in your travels. Now let me just wash and gut it so the cook can get to work on it.’
The fisherman’s wife remained standing by the guests, her hands crossed on her breast, while her husband busied himself at the hearth. Bread and wine the servant set before them and they partook, pouring out some of the red wine in a travelling-cup for the woman to taste. She drank with relish and a by-your-leave, and it was probably so that the fire of the wine emboldened
