on.
"Two rooms, fifty sous; fodder, forty sous"--he went on. "That would
make--"

"Keep the coin," said the _plaisant_, "and have the stable boy make
haste."

With new alacrity, the innkeeper thrust the pistole into a leathern
pouch he carried at his girdle. A guest who paid so well could afford
to be eccentric, and if he and the young lady chose to travel without
breakfast, it was obviously not for the purpose of economy. Therefore,
exclaiming something about "a lazy rascal that needed stirring up," the
now interested landlord was about to go to the barn himself, when, with
a loud clattering, a party of horsemen rode up to the tavern; the door
burst open and Triboulet, followed by a tall, rugged-looking man and a
party of troopers, entered the hall.

Swiftly the jester glanced around him; the room had no other door than
that before which the troopers were crowded; he was fairly caught in a
trap. Remorsefully his thoughts flew to the young girl and the trust
she had imposed in him. How had he rewarded that confidence? By a
temerity which made this treachery on the part of the hunchback
possible. Even now before him stood Triboulet, bowing ironically.

"I trust you are well?" jeered the dwarf, and with a light, dancing
step began to survey the other from side to side. "And the lady--is
she also well this morning? How pleased you both were to see me
yesterday!" assuming an insolent, albeit watchful, pose. "So you
believed I had run away from the duke? As if he could get on without
me. What would be a honeymoon without Triboulet! The maids of honor
would die of ennui. One day they trick me out with true-lovers' knots!
the next, give me a Cupid's head for a wand. Leave the duke!" he
repeated, bombastically. "Triboulet could not be so unkind."

"Enough of this buffoonery!" said a decisive voice, and the dwarf drew
back, not without a grimace, to make room for a person of soldierly
mien, who now pushed his way to the front. Over his doublet this
gentleman wore a somewhat frayed, but embroidered, cloak; his broad hat
was fringed with gold that had lost its luster; his countenance, deeply
burned, seemed that of an old campaigner. He regarded the fool
courteously, yet haughtily.

"Your sword, sir!" he commanded, in the tone of one accustomed to being
obeyed.

"To whom should I give it?" asked the duke's jester.

"To the Vicomte de Gruise, commandant of the town. I have a writ for
your arrest as a he