early morning with their presents
of poultry and milk, little guessed what sheep's clothing the gray
cowls and gowns of Oyster-le-Main had become in a single night, nor
what impious lips those were which now muttered blessings over their
bent heads.

The following night, hideous sounds were heard in the fields, and
those who dared to open their shutters to see what the matter was,
beheld a huge lizard beast, with fiery breath and accompanied by
rattling thunder, raging over the soil, which he hardly seemed to
touch!

In this manner did the dreaded Dragon of Wantley make his appearance,
and in this manner did Sir Francis Almoign, Knight of the Voracious
Stomach, stand in the shoes of that Father Anselm whom he had put so
comfortably out of the way under the flower-beds in the Monastery
garden,--and never a soul in the world except his companions in orgy
to know the difference. He even came to be welcome at Sir Godfrey's
table; for after the Dragon's appearance, the Baron grew civil to all
members of the Church. By day this versatile sinner, the Grand
Marshal, would walk in the sight of the world with staid step, clothed
in gray, his hood concealing his fierce, unchurchly eyes; by night,
inside the crocodile skin, he visited what places he chose, unhindered
by the terrified dwellers, and after him came his followers of the
Guild to steal the plunder and bear it back inside the walls of
Oyster-le-Main. Never in all their adventures had these superb
miscreants been in better plight; but now the trouble had begun, as
you are going to hear. We return to Hubert and the company.

"Hubert and all of you," said Father Anselm, or rather Sir Francis,
the Grand Marshal, as we know him to be, "they say that whom the gods
desire to destroy, him do they first make drunk with wine."

"The application! the application!" they shouted in hoarse and
mirthful chorus, for they were certainly near that state favourable to
destruction by the gods. One black fellow with a sliding gait ran into
the closet and brought a sheet of thin iron, and a strange torch-like
tube, which he lighted at the fire and blew into from the other end. A
plume of spitting flame immediately shot far into the air.

[Illustration: Hubert Looketh out of ye Window]

"Before thy sermon proceeds, old Dragon," he said, puffing unsteady
but solemn breaths between his words, "wrap up in lightning and
thunder that we may be--may be--lieve what you say." Then he shook the