ut the latter, realizing the purpose of the
affront, and the actual service the scamp-student had rendered him,
unexpectedly thrust back his blade.

"I'll not fight a puny bookworm," he said, and resumed his seat,
although his cheek was flushed.

"You bear a brave sword, fool, for one so loath to draw," sneered the
master of the boar.

Disappointed at this tame outcome of an affair which had so spirited a
beginning, the company, with derisive scoffing and muttered sarcasm,
resumed their places; all save the morio, who stood glaring upon the
jester.

"Stab! stab!" he muttered through his dry lips, and at that moment the
troubadour played a few chords on his instrument. The passion faded
from the creature's face; quietly he turned and sought the chair
nearest to the minstrel.

"Sing, master," he said.

"_Diable_, thou art an insatiable monster!" grumbled the troubadour.

"Insatiable," smilingly repeated the strange being.

"If you went also, _ma douce miette_!
The joys of heaven I'd forego
To have you with me there below,'--
Said Aucassin to Nicolette."

softly sang the troubadour.

Over the gathering a marked constraint appeared to fall. More soberly
the men shook their dice; the scamp-student took up his book, but even
Horace seemed not to absorb his undivided attention; a mountebank
attempted several tricks, but failed to amuse his spectators. The
candles, burning low, began to drip, and the servant silently replaced
them. Beneath lowering brows the master of the boar moodily regarded
the young girl, whose face seemed cold and disdainful in the flickering
light. The _plaisant_ addressed a remark to her, but she did not
answer, and silently he watched the shadow on the floor, of the
chandelier swinging to and fro, like a waving sword.

"Will you have something more, good fool?" said the insinuating and
unexpected voice of the host at the _plaisant's_ elbow.

"Nothing."

"You were right not to draw," continued the boniface with a sharp look.
"What could a jester do with the blade? I'll warrant you do not know
how to use it?"

"Nay," answered the fool; "I know how to use it not--and save my neck."

Mine host nodded approvingly. "Ha! a merry fellow," he said. "Come;
drink again. 'Twill make you sleep."

"I have better medicine than that," retorted the jester, and yawned.

"Ah, weariness. I'll warrant you'll rest like a log," he added, as he
moved away.

At that some one who had b