“If you have travelled so much,” continued the Venetian, “you must be a learned man.”

“I have learned,” replied the Frenchman, “to give no heed to those who do not trouble about me.  I have learnt that however high a man’s head was, his feet were always level with my own; more than that, I have learnt to have no confidence in the warm days of winter, in the sleep of my enemies, or the words of my friends.”

“You are, then, richer than I am,” said the Venetian, astonished, “since you tell me things of which I never thought.”

“Everyone must think for himself,” said the Frenchman; “and as you have interrogated me, I can request from you the kindness of pointing to me the road to Palermo or some inn, for the night is closing in.”

“Are you then, acquainted with no French or Sicilian gentlemen at Palermo?”

“No.”

“Then you are not certain of being received?”

“I am disposed to forgive those who reject me.  The road, sir, if you please.”

“I am lost like yourself,” said the Venetian.  “Let us look for it in company.”

“To do that we must go together; but you are on horseback, I am on foot.”

The Venetian took the French knight on his saddle behind him, and said—­

“Do you know with whom you are?”

“With a man, apparently.”

“Do you think you are in safety?”

“If you were a robber, you would have to take care of yourself,” said the Frenchman, putting the point of his dagger to the Venetian’s heart.

“Well, now, my noble Frenchman, you appear to be a man of great learning and sound sense; know that I am a noble, established at the Court of Sicily, but alone, and I seek a friend.  You seem to be in the same plight, and, judging from appearances, you do not seem friendly with your lot, and have apparently need of everybody.”

“Should I be happier if everybody wanted me?”

“You are a devil, who turns every one of my words against me.  By St. Mark! my lord knight, can one trust you?”

“More than yourself, who commenced our federal friendship by deceiving me, since you guide your horse like a man who knows his way, and you said you were lost.”

“And did not you deceive me?” said the Venetian, “by making a sage of your years walk, and giving a noble knight the appearance of a vagabond?  Here is my abode; my servants have prepared supper for us.”

The Frenchman jumped off the horse, and entered the house with the Venetian cavalier, accepting his supper.  They both seated themselves at the table.  The Frenchman fought so well with his jaws, he twisted the morsels with so much agility, that he showed herself equally learned in suppers, and showed it again in dexterously draining the wine flasks without his eye becoming dimmed or his understanding affected.  Then you may be sure that the Venetian thought to himself he had fallen in with a fine son of Adam, sprung from