ary morning was drawing
the pattern of my lattice on the ceiling. The stormy night had been
succeeded by a calm and sunlit day. And by its light the place wore a
more loathsome look than it had done last night, so that at the very
sight of it I leapt from my couch and grew eager to be gone. I set
a ducat on the table, and going to the door I called my hostess. The
stairs creaked presently 'neath her portentous weight, and, panting
slightly, she stood before me.

At sight of me, for I was without my cloak, and my motley was revealed
in the cold, morning light, she cried out in amazement first, and then
in rage--deeming me one of those parasites who tramp the world in the
garb of folly, seeking here a dinner, there a bed, in exchange for some
scurvy tumbling or some witless jests.

"Ossa di Cristo!" was her cry. "Have I housed a Fool?"

"If I am the first you have housed, your tumbling ruin of a tavern has
been a singularly choice resort. Woman--"

"Would you 'woman' me?" she stormed.

"Why, no," said I politely. "I was at fault. I'll keep the title for
your husband--God help him!"

She smiled grimly.

"And are these," she asked, with a ferocious sarcasm, "the jests with
which you pay the score?"

"Jests?" quoth I. "Score? Pish! More eyes, less tongue would more befit
a hostess who has never housed a fool." And with a splendid gesture I
pointed to the ducat gleaming on the table. At sight of the gold her
eyes grew big with greed.

"My master--" she began, and coming forward took the piece in her hand,
to assure herself that she was not the dupe of magic. "A fool with
gold!" she marvelled.

"Is a shame to his calling," I acknowledged. Then--"Get me a needle and
a length of thread," said I. She scuttled off to do my bidding, like
nothing so much as one of the rats that tenanted her unclean sty. She
was back in a moment, all servility, and wondering whether there was a
rent about me she might make bold to stitch. What a key to courtesy is
gold, my masters! I drove her out, and eager to conciliate me, she went
at once.

With my own hands I effected in my doublet the slight repair of which it
stood in need. Then I donned my hat, and, cloak on shoulder, made my way
below, calling for my horse as I descended.

I scorned the wine they proffered me ere I departed. That last night's
draught had quenched my thirst for ever of such grape-juice as it was
theirs to tender. I urged the taverner to hasten with my horse, a