shocked that he fell out of bed. He thought he must have heard wrong. He rubbed his eyes, and said:
‘Alas, Wife, what didst thou say?’
‘Husband,’ she said, ‘if I cannot be Lord of the Universe, and cause the sun and moon to set and rise, I shall not be able to bear it. I shall never have another happy moment.’
She looked at him so wildly that it caused a shudder to run through him.
‘Alas, Wife,’ he said, falling on his knees before her, ‘the Flounder can’t do that. Emperor and Pope he can make, but that is indeed beyond him. I pray thee, control thyself and remain Pope.’
Then she flew into a terrible rage. Her hair stood on end; she kicked him and screamed—
‘I won’t bear it any longer; wilt thou go!’
Then he pulled on his trousers and tore away like a madman. Such a storm was raging that he could hardly keep his feet: houses and trees quivered and swayed, and mountains trembled, and the rocks rolled into the sea. The sky was pitchy black; it thundered and lightened, and the sea ran in black waves mountains high, crested with white foam. He shrieked out, but could hardly make himself heard—
Prythee, hearken unto me:
My Wife, Ilsebil, must have her own will,
And sends me to beg a boon of thee.’
‘Now, what does she want?’ asked the Flounder.
‘Alas,’ he said, ‘she wants to be Lord of the Universe.’
‘Now she must go back to her old hovel; and there she is.’ So there they are to this very day.
