aunty plume of white ostrich
feathers waving above the jetty mane. The costume of the king's
stalwart figure displayed a splendid suit of plate armor, enriched with
chased work and ornament in gold, his appearance in keeping with his
character of monarch and knight who sought to revive the spirit of
chivalry at a period when the practical modern tendencies seriously
threatened to undermine the practices and traditions of a once-exalted,
but now fast-failing, institution for the regulation of morals and
conduct.

By his side, less radiant only in comparison with the august monarch,
rode the rank and quality of the realm, with silver and spangles, and
fluttering plumes, scabbards gleaming with jewels, and girdles adorned
with rich settings. Furiously galloping behind came an attenuated
snow-white charger, bearing the hunchback. A bladder dangling over his
shoulder, his bagpipe hanging from his waist, Triboulet bobbed
frantically up and down, clinging desperately to the saddle or winding
his legs about the charger's neck to preserve his equilibrium.

"You would better jog along more quietly, fool," observed a courtier,
warningly, "or you will suffer for it."

"Alas, sir," replied Triboulet, "I stick my spurs into my horse to keep
him quiet, but the more I prick him the more unruly I find the
obstinate beast."

The king, who heard, laughed, and the dwarf's heart immediately
expanded, auguring he should soon be restored to the monarch's favor;
for since the night the buffoon had failed to answer the duke's jester
in Fools' hall Francis had received Triboulet's advances and small
pleasantries with terrifying coldness. In fact, the dwarf had never
passed such an uncomfortable period during his career, save on one
memorable occasion when a band of mischievous pages had set upon him,
carried him to the scaffold and nailed his enormous ears to the beam.
Now, reassured, burning with delight, the jester spurred presumptuously
forward, no longer feeling bound to lag in the rear.

"Go back!" cried an angry knight. "I can not bear a fool on my right."

Triboulet reined in his horse, but pushed ahead on the other side of
the rider who had spoken.

"I can bear it very well," he retorted and found his proud reward in
the company's laughter. The remark, moreover, passed from lip to lip
to the king, and the misshapen jester felt his little cup of happiness
filled once more to the brim; his old prestige seemed coming back to