forward and touched Tristan's sleeve.

"Gossip Tristan, there is at my court a scholar who told me an
Eastern tale."

"Pray God it be a gay one such as your majesty loves,"

"Hush, man; no 'Majesty' here. 'Tis of an Eastern King, one Haroun,
surnamed, as I shall be surnamed, The Just."

Tristan grunted sceptically, but Louis, ignoring the ejaculation,
went on.

"It was his pastime to go about Bagdad of nights in disguise, and
mingling with his people learn much to the advantage of the realm. I
am following his example, and I expect to learn much in my turn."

Tristan looked pityingly at the complacent king. "You are likely to
learn how unpopular you are, which I could have told you without
this trouble; and you will be lucky if you do not get your throat
cut into the bargain."

Something almost like a smile disturbed the familiar composure of
the king's wrinkles. He took another sip of the wine and his
affability expanded. "You are always a bird of evil omen," he
chirped. "Be bright, man; look at me. The Burgundian Leaguer is at
my gates; my throne sways like a rocking-chair, yet I don't pull a
sad face."

"It's a good thing that somebody is pleased," Tristan commented.