if you can so arrange it. But whatever the number"--here
his voice rose ominously, and his eye flashed with anger--"you, sirrah,
shall dine at the lowest!" The great question of the "tables" was
crushed. Sometimes--after the fashion of Haroun al Raschid, though not
in disguise--he would steal down quietly and unperceived, through the
out-of-the-way holes and corners of the immense castle, to see with his
own eyes what the inhabitants of the remoter regions were about. Some
dry joke, or some act of benevolence, according to circumstances, was
sure to be the result. As he was one day poking through the passages, he
suddenly encountered an enormously big, fat servant-woman, engaged in
cleaning a stair. She was steaming with perspiration. Eyeing her
curiously for a moment, "Ho, ho!" he cried (his usual introductory
exclamation), "do _you_ bake the bread?" The woman, staring in
astonishment, and, fortunately for her own self-complacency, not
understanding the point of the strange question, replied, "No, your
grace, that is not my department; I am in the laundry, and my business
is"--"Oh, never mind," said the duke, with the look of one greatly
relieved, "I am perfectly satisfied so you don't bake the bread." A
decayed gentleman, who had found harbourage at Fleurs, was staying
rather longer than convenient. It was in the depth of winter, and the
ground was covered with snow. The duke, who was an early riser in all
seasons, had been out for his morning walk; and on his return proceeded
to the gentleman's room, who was still in bed. "You lazy lie-a-bed!"
exclaimed the duke, "there 's a snow-ball for you--and there 's
another--and there 's another," and suiting the action to the word, he
discharged into the bed upon him a shower of white-looking balls; but
they happened to be, not snow-balls, but pound-notes squeezed into the
shape--report said, twenty in number. The gentleman took the practical
but benevolent hint, and departed, carrying with him the snow-balls, not
melted. In his more serious mood, he, one Sabbath, met a girl returning
from church, and inquired what church she had been attending. He then
walked with her a long time, discoursing upon the slight shades of
difference amongst the various religious denominations, and concluded,
"I shall not see it, but I believe that, in course of time, there will
be only one sheepfold under the one Shepherd."

Labour at Fleurs was a twin to mirth. We were always having festivities