burgh the watchmen do thunder at each door that is
dark, and make the weary wight rise and light. 'Tis my son tells me. He
is a great voyager, my son Nicholas."

In further explanation he assured them that previously to that ordinance
no city had been worse infested with wolves than Paris; a troop had
boldly assaulted the town in 1420, and in 1438 they had eaten fourteen
persons in a single month between Montmartre and the gate St. Antoine,
and that not a winter month even, but September: and as for the
dead, which nightly lay in the streets slain in midnight brawls, or
assassinated, the wolves had used to devour them, and to grub up the
fresh graves in the churchyards and tear out the bodies.

Here a thoughtful citizen suggested that probably the wolves had been
bridled of late in Paris, not by candle-lights, but owing to the English
having been driven out of the kingdom of France. "For those English be
very wolves themselves for fierceness and greediness. What marvel then
that under their rule our neighbours of France should be wolf-eaten?"
This logic was too suited to the time and place not to be received
with acclamation. But the old man stood his ground. "I grant ye those
islanders are wolves; but two-legged ones, and little apt to favour
their four-footed cousins. One greedy thing loveth it another? I trow
not. By the same token, and this too I have from my boy Nicole, Sir Wolf
dare not show his nose in London city; though 'tis smaller than Paris,
and thick woods hard by the north wall, and therein great store of deer,
and wild boars as rife as flies at midsummer."

"Sir," said Gerard, "you seem conversant with wild beasts, prithee
advise my comrade here and me: we would not waste time on the road, an
if we may go forward to the next town with reasonable safety.'

"Young man, I trow 'twere an idle risk. It lacks but an hour of dusk,
and you must pass nigh a wood where lurk some thousands of these
half-starved vermin, rank cowards single; but in great bands bold as
lions. Wherefore I rede you sojourn here the night; and journey on
betimes. By the dawn the vermin will be tired out with roaring and
rampaging; and mayhap will have filled their lank bellies with flesh of
my good neighbours here, the unteachable fools."

Gerard hoped not; and asked could he recommend them to a good inn.

"Humph! there is the 'Tete d'Or.' My grandaughter keeps it. She is
a mijauree, but not so knavish as most hotel-keepers, and her