ll who send their beasts to graze here."

Pantaloon turned to behold at his side Andre-Louis in his shirt-sleeves,
and without a neckcloth, the towel still trailing over his left
shoulder, a comb in his hand, his hair half dressed.

"God of God!" swore Pantaloon. "But it is an ogre, this Marquis de La
Tour d'Azyr!"

"I have told you already what I think of him," said Andre-Louis. "As for
these fellows you had better let me deal with them. I have experience
of their kind." And without waiting for Pantaloon's consent, Andre-Louis
stepped forward to meet the advancing men of the marechaussee. He had
realized that here boldness alone could save him.

When a moment later the sergeant pulled up his horse alongside of this
half-dressed young man, Andre-Louis combed his hair what time he looked
up with a half smile, intended to be friendly, ingenuous, and disarming.

In spite of it the sergeant hailed him gruffly: "Are you the leader of
this troop of vagabonds?"

"Yes... that is to say, my father, there, is really the leader." And he
jerked a thumb in the direction of M. Pantaloon, who stood at gaze out
of earshot in the background. "What is your pleasure, captain?"

"My pleasure is to tell you that you are very likely to be gaoled for
this, all the pack of you." His voice was loud and bullying. It carried
across the common to the ears of every member of the company, and
brought them all to stricken attention where they stood. The lot of
strolling players was hard enough without the addition of gaolings.

"But how so, my captain? This is communal land free to all."

"It is nothing of the kind."

"Where are the fences?" quoth Andre-Louis, waving the hand that held the
comb, as if to indicate the openness of the place.

"Fences!" snorted the sergeant. "What have fences to do with the matter?
This is terre censive. There is no grazing here save by payment of dues
to the Marquis de La Tour d'Azyr."

"But we are not grazing," quoth the innocent Andre-Louis.

"To the devil with you, zany! You are not grazing! But your beasts are
grazing!"

"They eat so little," Andre-Louis apologized, and again essayed his
ingratiating smile.

The sergeant grew more terrible than ever. "That is not the point. The
point is that you are committing what amounts to a theft, and there's
the gaol for thieves."

"Technically, I suppose you are right," sighed Andre-Louis, and fell to
combing his hair again, still looking up into the sergea