CHAPTER XXVI
The hottest horse will oft be cool,
The dullest will show fire;
The friar will often play the fool,
The fool will play the friar.
—Old Song
When the Jester, arrayed in the cowl and frock of the hermit, and having his knotted cord twisted round his middle, stood before the portal of the castle of Front-de-Boeuf, the warder demanded of him his name and errand.
“Pax vobiscum,” answered the Jester, “I am a poor brother of the Order of St Francis, who come hither to do my office to certain unhappy prisoners now secured within this castle.”
“Thou art a bold friar,” said the warder, “to come hither, where, saving our own drunken confessor, a c**k of thy feather hath not crowed these twenty years.”
“Yet I pray thee, do mine errand to the lord of the castle,” answered the pret
