upon his words. In many ways they were simple folk, and,
like all simple folk, they loved to be told stories, and AEsop prided
himself upon being something of a man of letters, a philosopher, and an
historian. It was, therefore, no small annoyance to narrator and audience
when the narrative was interrupted, as it was nearing its conclusion, by
the opening of the Inn door. Every face expressed astonishment as it was
pushed sufficiently apart to admit the entry of a slender and graceful
boy in the rich habit of a page. The boy came a little way into the room,
looking cautiously about him. He acted as if at first he took the room in
its dimness to be unoccupied, and he seemed to be somewhat disconcerted
at discovering that it contained so many occupants. He stood still while
his bright eyes ran rapidly, and indeed fearfully, over the somewhat
alarming features of the guests. Failing, apparently, to find among them
the person, whoever it was, whom he had come there to seek, he turned to
leave as quietly as he had entered, but his egress was barred by AEsop,
who had slipped between him and the door, and who now questioned him,
with a grin of malignant intelligence on his face.

"Whom are you looking for, pygmy?"

The page put a bold face on it and answered with a bold voice: "I have a
letter for a gentleman."

AEsop pointed to the group at the table. "We are all gentlemen. Let's have
a look at your letter." Then he added to his companions: "It may be
useful. The imp wears the livery of Nevers."

Instantly the others approved by signs and grunts of AEsop's action, and
the page, now really alarmed, made a desperate effort to escape. "Let me
pass!" he cried, and tried to rush under AEsop's arm. But AEsop caught the
boy in an iron grip, and, though the courageous page drew a dagger and
tried to stab his assailant, he was disarmed in a second and seized by
the others, who sprang from the table and clustered about him, fierce
birds of prey about a helpless quarry. The lad cried for help, hopelessly
enough. Strong, dirty fingers were tearing open his jerkin and fumbling
for the concealed letter, when suddenly it seemed to the astonished
swordsmen that an earthquake and a whirlwind had combined for their
undoing. AEsop rolled to one end of the room, Staupitz to another;
Cocardasse and Passepoil, Saldagno, Pepe, Pinto, Faenza, and Joel were
scattered like sparrows, and the little page found himself liberated and
crouching at the