aise_ returned, and with them came
contentment, long siestas, and even the chance to do her own little
gavotte once again, when she went _sur le pont d'Avignon_. And yet,
since her adventure, she felt a certain coolness towards her in the
town. Whispers followed her on her way, old folks shook their heads,
and youngsters laughed and pointed at the bell tower. Even the good
Pope himself hadn't as much confidence in his furry friend and when he
wanted a nap mounted on the mule, coming back from the vineyard on
Sundays, he feared that he would wake up on top of the bell tower! The
mule felt all this, but suffered it in silence, except when the name
Tistet Vedene was mentioned in front of her, when her ears would twitch
and she would snort briefly as she whetted her iron shoes on the paving
stones.

Seven years passed before Tistet Vedene returned from the court at
Naples. His time over there wasn't finished, but he had heard that the
Pope's Head Mustard-Maker had suddenly died in Avignon, and he thought
the position was a good one, so he rushed to join the line of
applicants.

When the scheming Vedene came into the palace, he had grown and
broadened out so much, that the Holy Father hardly recognised him. It
has to be admitted though that the Pope himself had aged and couldn't
see too well without his spectacles.

Tistet wasn't one to be intimidated.

--Most Holy Father, can you not recognise me? It is I, Tistet Vedene....

--Vedene?...

--Yes, you know me well.... I once served the wine, _a la francaise_,
to your mule.

--Oh, yes, yes.... I remember.... A good little boy, Tistet Vedene....
And now, what can we do for him?

--Oh, not a lot, most Holy Father.... I came to ask you something....
By the way, have you still got your mule? Is she keeping well?... Oh,
that's good.... I came to ask you for the position of your Head
Mustard-Maker, who has just died.

--Head Mustard-Maker, you! You're far too young. How old are you, now?

--Twenty years and two months, great pontiff, exactly five years older
than your mule.... Oh, what a prize of God, a fine beast! If you only
knew how much I loved that mule and how much I longed for her in Italy.
Please may I see her?

--Yes, my child, you may see her, said the good, and by now, very moved
Pope, and, as you care so much for the dear thing, I don't want you to
live too far away. From this day forward, I am appointing you into my
presence in the office of Head Mustard-