wars of the Romans.

"My good friend," Rhodolph replied, "be contented that men of learning
praise our actions, and thereby inspire us with additional courage in
war. I wish I could employ more time in reading, and could expend some
of that money on learned men which I must throw away on so many
illiterate knights."

One cold morning at Metz, in the year 1288, he walked out dressed as
usual in the plainest garb. He strolled into a baker's shop, as if to
warm himself. The baker's termagant wife said to him, all unconscious
who he was,

"Soldiers have no business to come into poor women's houses."

"True," the emperor replied, "but do not be angry, my good woman; I am
an old soldier who have spent all my fortune in the service of that
rascal Rhodolph, and he suffers me to want, notwithstanding all his fine
promises."

"Good enough for you," said the woman; "a man who will serve such a
fellow, who is laying waste the whole earth, deserves nothing better."

She then, in her spite, threw a pail of water on the fire, which,
filling the room with smoke and ashes, drove the emperor into the
street.

Rhodolph, having returned to his lodgings, sent a rich present to the
old woman, from the emperor who had warmed himself at her fire that
morning, and at the dinner-table told the story with great glee to his