dy could tell where it all
went to.

"How can you say that," said Randolphe, "when you think of the numbers
of idle people that are feeding upon those who work?--I hear you, wife,"
he said, in answer to a warning cough from his wife within. "It is no
treason to say that in this land there are swarms of idle folk, living
upon the toil of us who work."

The guests declared that they were men of honour, who would be ashamed
to repay hospitality by reporting the conversation of their host.
Besides, nobody in France could question the feet. To say nothing of
the old king, languishing in the midst of costly pleasures, so vicious
that by every indulgence he purchased the curses of virtuous families,
and the hatred of the poor,--besides all the extravagances in that
quarter, there were the nobility, sitting heavy upon the people
throughout the land, like the nightmare upon the sleep of a wearied man.
These nobles must all be rich,--must all be pampered in luxury, though
not one of them would work with his head or hands. If a nobleman had
five sons, they must all be pampered alike; and the sons of five hundred
peasants must be oppressed, to supply the means.

Randolphe said he had little thought to see the day when he should hear
soldiers say these things openly at his own door. His face brightened
as he declared this, though his wife again coughed more than once.

Jerome replied that it was a common thing now to hear these things told;
for the oppressed do get to speak out, sooner or later. The story of
the king's meeting a coffin was in everybody's mouth. No one here had
heard it: so Jerome told that the king was fond of asking questions of
strangers, and particularly about disease, death, and churchyards;
because he thought his gay attendants did not like to hear of such
things. One day, he was hunting in the forest of Senard, when he met a
man on horseback, carrying a coffin.

"Where are you carrying that coffin?" asked the king.

"To the village yonder."

"Is it for a man or a woman?"

"For a man."

"What did he die of?"

"Of hunger."

The king clapped spurs to his horse, and rode away.

"He might find the same thing happening in many other villages," said
Randolphe, stroking the thin cheeks of his boy Robin. "Look here!"
showing the boy's arm. "Is this an arm that can work or fight as a
Frenchman's should do, when my boy is a man?"

"Things may be different when that boy is a man," said the smoker