hath not been seen by any he in all this land, and many whisper that she pines in the dungeons of the castle for that she will not wed with Leonardo, saying her dear lord still liveth and that she will die ere she prove false to him. They whisper likewise that her daughter is a prisoner as well. Nay, good jugglers, seek ye refreshment other wheres. ’Twere better that ye perished in a Christian way than that ye plunged from off yon dizzy tower. Give ye good-day.”
“God keep ye, gentle knave—farewell.”
But heedless of the peasant’s warning, the players moved straightway toward the castle.
Word was brought to Count Leonardo that a company of mountebanks besought his hospitality.
“’Tis well. Dispose of them in the customary manner. Yet stay! I have need of them. Let them come hither. Later, cast them from the battlements—or—how many priests have ye on hand?”
“The day’s results are meagre, good my lord. An abbot and a dozen beggarly friars is all we have.”
“Hell and furies! Is the estate going to seed? Send hither the mountebanks. Afterward, broil them with the priests.”
The robed and close-cowled harlequins entered. The grim Leonardo sate in state at the head of his council board. Ranged up and down the hall on either hand stood near a hundred men-at-arms.
“Ha, villains !” quoth the count, “What can ye do to earn the hospitality ye crave.”
“Dread lord and mighty, crowded audiences have greeted our humble efforts with rapturous applause. Among our body count we the versatile and talented Ugolino; the justly celebrated Rodolpho; the gifted and accomplished Roderigo; the management have spared neither pains nor expense—”
“S’death! what can ye do? Curb thy prating tongue.”
“Good my lord, in acrobatic feats, in practice with the dumb-bells, in balancing and ground and lofty tumbling are we versed—and sith your highness asketh me, I venture here to publish that in the truly marvelous and entertaining Zampillaerostation—”
