turned its head
reproachfully, as if mentally protesting against such foul quarters and
the poor company they offered. Its melancholy whinny upon the
appearance of the woman was a sigh for freedom; a sad suspiration to
the memory of radiant clover fields or poppy-starred meadows.

"Why, here's a holy man worn out by too many paternosters," commented
the duke's fool, standing on the threshold; and then gazed from the
gold piece in the monk's hand to the woman. "I need not ask where you
got the silver, Nanette. 'Tis a chain of evidence leading--where?"

The gipsy replied only with dark looks, regarding his intrusion in this
inner sanctuary as a fresh provocation for her just displeasure. The
jester, however, paid no attention to these signs of new acerbity on
her face.

Crossing to the couch, he shook the monk vigorously, but the latter
only held his piece of money tighter like a miser whose treasure is
threatened, and snored the louder. Again the fool essayed to waken
him, and this time he opened his eyes, felt for his beads and commenced
to mutter a prayer in Latin words, strung together in meaningless
phrases.

"Why," commented the jester, "his learning is as false as his cloak.
Wake up, sirrah! Would you approach Heaven's gate with a feigned
prayer on your lips and a toss-pot in your hand?"

"_Christe tuum_--I absolve you! I absolve you!" muttered the friar.
"Go your way in peace."

"Hear me, thou trumped-up monk; do you want another piece of gold?"

"Gold!" repeated the other, tipsily. "What--what for? To--to help
some fool to paradise--or purgatory? 'Tis for the Church I beg, good
people. The holy Church--Church I say!"

Winking and blinking, seeing nothing before him, he held out a
trembling hand. "The piece of gold--give it to me!" he mumbled.

"Yes; in exchange for your cloak," answered the jester.

"My cloak, thou horse-leech! Sell my skin for--piece of gold! Want my
cloak? Take it!" And the dissembler rolled over, extending his arms.
The jester grasped the garment by the sleeves and with some difficulty
whipped it from him.

"Now hand me--the money and--cover me with rags that--I may sleep,"
continued the beer-bibber. "So"--as he grasped the money the fool gave
him and stretched himself luxuriously beneath a noisome litter of
cast-off clothes and rubbish--"I languish in ecstasies! The
angels--are singing around me."

With growing surprise and ill-humor had the woman observed th