hat I must have the horse, Nanette," said the duke's jester, standing
motionless and firm before the fireplace.

"Are you the fool?" she asked, more to herself than him. "Why does he
wish to ride away?"

"Will you sell me the horse?" he demanded.

She hesitated. Around them danced the shadows of the kettle-gourmands:

"A kern and a drole, a varlet and a blade
A drab and a rep, a skit and a jade--"

sang the street poet; the dwarf and the morio (a lilliputian and
Gulliver) fought a mimic combat; the juggler and the clown, who could
eat no more, were keeping time to a chorus by beating with their empty
trenchers on the table.

"Sell you the horse? For what?" asked the gipsy.

"For five gold pieces."

"A fool with five gold pieces!" she exclaimed, incredulously.

"Here! You may see them." And he opened a purse he carried at his
girdle.

"Do not let them know," she said, hurriedly. "They would kill you
and--"

"You would not get the money," he added, significantly. "If you act
quickly, find me a horse and let me go; it is you, not they, who will
profit."

Abruptly she rose. "It is fate," she remarked, her eyes greedy.

His glance, as he stood there, proud and stern, cut her sharply. "Say
cupidity, Nanette!" he laughed softly. "It is more profitable not to
betray me. In the one case you get much; in the other, little."

"Stay here," she replied, hastily. "I'll fetch the horse." And
vanished.

A moment he remained, then resolutely turning to the door through which
she had disappeared, opened it, and found himself in a combined
sleeping-room and stable; a dark apartment, with floor of hardened
earth and a single window, open to wind and weather. The atmosphere in
this chamber for man and beast was impregnated with the smell of mold
and dry-rot, mingled with the livelier effluvium of dirt and grime of
years; but amid the malodor and mustiness, on a couch under the window,
slumbered and snored the false Franciscan monk. By his side was a
tankard, half-filled with stale sack, and in his hand he clutched a
gold piece as though he had had an intimation it would be safer there
than elsewhere on his person during the pot-valiant sleep he had
deliberately courted. His hood had fallen back, displaying a bullet
head, red cheeks and purple nose, while the wooden beads of this
sottish counterfeit of a friar trailed from his girdle on the ground.
From a stall in a far corner a large, bony-looking nag