measured with a straight yard stick, but there's trouble in other
places. So your father's name was Adam, and he really bore no other?"

"No, certainly not."

"That's too little by half. From this day we'll call you in earnest
Navarrete: Ulrich Navarrete. That will be something complete. The name is
only a dress, but if half of it is taken from your body, you are left
half-bare and exposed to mockery. The garment must be becoming too, so we
adorn it as we choose. My father was called Kurschner, but at the Latin
school Olearius and Faber and Luscinius sat beside me, so I raised myself
to the rank of a Roman citizen, and turned Kurschner into
Pellicanus. . . ."

The jester coughed violently, and continued One thing more. To expect
gratitude is folly, nine times out of ten none is reaped, and he who is
wise thinks only of himself, and usually omits to seek thanks; but every
one ought to be grateful, for it is burdensome to have enemies, and there
is no one we learn to hate more easily, than the benefactor we repay with
ingratitude. You ought and must tell the artist your history, for he has
deserved your confidence.

The jester's worldly-wise sayings, in which selfishness was always
praised as the highest virtue, often seemed very puzzling to the boy, yet
many of them were impressed on his young soul. He followed the sick man's
advice the very next morning, and he had no cause to regret it, for Moor
treated him even more kindly than before.

Pellicanus intended to part from the travellers at Avignon, to go to
Marseilles, and from there by ship to Savona, but before he reached the
old city of the popes, he grew so feeble, that Moor scarcely hoped to
bring him alive to the goal of his journey.

The little man's body seemed to continually grow smaller, and his head
larger, while his hollow, livid cheeks looked as if a rose-leaf adorned
the centre of each.

He often told his travelling-companions about his former life.

He had originally been destined for the ecclesiastical profession, but
though he surpassed all the other pupils in the school, he was deprived
of the hope of ever becoming a priest, for the Church wants no cripples.
He was the child of poor people, and had been obliged to fight his way
through his career as a student, with great difficulty.

"How shabby the broad top of my cap often was!" he said. "I was so much
ashamed of it. I am so small. Dear me, anybody could see my head, and
could not help noti