e,
cousin, although your cap has no ears, for your surcoat is nearly as
motley as mine."

"Leave me instantly!" said Adelbert.

"You are willing, then, to leave this poor wretch to Satan."

"Yes, beyond doubt; and you with him! Find a monk, if you can."

"Hey?--Well, I am learning something new every day," said Lanzo,
ironically. "I never thought before, that a monk was worth more than a
prelate; but I'll remember in future.--Ah, I am in luck, here comes a
monk!--two of them.--I may say three, instead of one!" he cried, as
several monks dismounted and approached the tent.

They were dusty and travel-stained, and apparently fatigued with a long
journey; the eldest addressed the prelate, while his companions stood
on one side in an attitude of deep humility.

"Deign to pardon my boldness," said he, after the usual greetings; "we
have just arrived in your camp, and seek a friendly shelter. Our rules
prescribe the greatest discretion; but, in these troublous times, it is
no longer an easy task to hold our pastoral office. Perhaps, your
Excellency will deign to offer us an humble place beneath your tent?"

But the modest request seemed to irritate the prelate. He drew himself
up, proudly, and glanced disdainfully upon the speaker, as he replied,
sharply,--

"The tent of a bishop is not an inn for mendicant friars."

"If you want to keep company with bishops, or priors, or even canons,
holy father," said Lanzo, "you must wear a _pelisse_ of _sables_, and
let the hair grow on your shaven poll."

"Would you be kind enough," said the embarrassed monk, turning to the
jester, "would you be kind enough to use your influence with this noble
gentleman. We are messengers from the Archbishop Everard of Salzburg."

"What!" sneered Adelbert. "Monks acting as the envoys of an archbishop?
Has your master no abbot or canon at the head of his chapter? Your
cowls are out of place amid the splendors of a court! I warn you that
His Majesty has little love for your cloth, and he is right."

"Ah!" exclaimed Lanzo, "if my cousin Barbarossa could only use the
monks as train-bearers and courtiers for his pet Pope, we would soon
have little need for bishops and canons!"

With an angry look at the jester, Adelbert re-entered the tent. The
monks seemed greatly embarrassed. Their scornful reception was the more
mortifying, because it was the first visit which they had ever paid to
the high dignitaries of the Church.

"Be of good cheer,