stand before the door, and with
a rueful voice, exchanged the following dialogue with the hemp-dresser,
who was stationed above the same door:

_The Grave-digger_: "Ah, my good people, my fellow-townsmen, for the
love of Heaven, open the door."

_The Hemp-dresser_: "Who are you, and what right have you to call us
your dear fellow-townsmen? We don't know you."

_The Grave-digger_: "We are worthy folk in great distress. Don't be
afraid of us, my friends. Extend us your hospitality. Sleet is falling;
our poor feet are frozen, and our journey home has been so long that our
sabots are split."

_The Hemp-dresser_: "If your sabots are split, you can look on
the ground; you will find very soon a sprig of willow to make some
_arcelets_ [small curved blades of iron which are fastened on split
sabots to hold them together]."

_The Grave-digger_: "Willow _arcelets_ are scarcely strong enough. You
are making fun of us, good people, and you would do better to open your
doors. We can see a splendid fire blazing in your dwelling. The spit
must be turning, and we can make merry with you, heart and belly. So
open your doors to poor pilgrims who will die on the threshold if you
are not merciful."

_The Hemp-dresser_: "Ah ha! so you are pilgrims? You never told us that.
And what pilgrimage do you come from, may I ask?"

_The Grave-digger_: "We shall tell you that when you open the door, for
we come from so far that you would never believe it."

_The Hemp-dresser_: "Open the door to you? I rather think not. We can't
trust you. Tell us, is it from Saint Sylvain of Pouligny that you come?"

_The Grave-digger_: "We have been at Saint Sylvain of Pouligny, but we
have been farther still."

_The Hemp-dresser_: "Then you have been as far as Saint Solange?"

_The Grave-digger_: "At Saint Solange we have been, sure enough, but we
have been farther yet."

_The Hemp-dresser_: "You are lying. You have never been as far as Saint
Solange."

_The Grave-digger_: "We have been farther, for now we are come from
Saint Jacques of Compostelle."

_The Hemp-dresser_: "What absurdity are you telling us? We don't know
that parish. We can easily see that you are bad people, brigands,
nobodies, and liars. Go away with your nonsense. We are on our guard.
You can't come in."

_The Grave-digger_: "Ah, my poor fellow, take pity on us. We are not
pilgrims, as you have guessed, but we are unlucky poachers pursued by
the keepers. Even the police are aft