yellow glitter of gold.
The waiter's eyes were sharp and he had his own ideas about this
unprecedented liberality.

The travelling companions of the aristocratic burgomaster and
ambassadors of the proud city of Nuremberg had also noticed this
incident.

After they had taken their seats at the handsomely ornamented table,
Wilibald Pirckheimer bent toward the ear of his young friend and
companion in office, whispering:

"The lovely wife at home whom you toiled so hard to win, might, I know,
rest quietly, secure in the possession of all the charms of foam-born
Aphrodite, yet I warn you. Whoever is as sure of himself as you
cares little for the opinion of others. And yet we stand high, friend
Lienhard, and therefore are seen by all; but the old Argus who watches
for his neighbour's faults has a hundred sharp eyes, while among the
gods three are blind--Justice, Happiness, and Love. Besides, you flung
gold to yonder worthless rabble. I would rather have given it to the
travelling musicians. They, like us humanists, are allied to the Muses
and, moreover, are harmless, happy folk."

Lienhard Groland listened till his older friend had finished. Then,
after thanking him for his well-meant counsel, he answered, turning to
the others also:

"In better days rope-dancing was the profession of yonder poor, coughing
creature. Now, after a severe accident, she is dragging herself through
life on one foot. I once knew her, for I succeeded in saving her from
terrible disgrace."

"And," replied Wilibald Pirckheimer, "we would rather show kindness a
second and a third time to any one on whom we have be stowed a favour
than to render it once to a person from whom we have received one. This
is my own experience. But the wise man must guard against nothing more
carefully than to exceed moderation in his charity. How easily, when
Caius sees Cnejus lavish gold where silver or copper would serve, he
thinks of Martial's apt words: 'Who gives great gifts, expects great
gifts again.'--[Martial, Epigram 5, 59, 3.]--Do not misunderstand me.
What could yonder poor thing bestow that would please even a groom? But
the eyes of suspicion scan even the past. I have often seen you open
your purse, friend Lienhard, and this is right. Whoever hath ought to
give, and my dead mother used to say that: 'No one ever became a beggar
by giving at the proper time.'"

"And life is gladdened by what one gives to another," remarked Conrad
Peutinger, the learned