could not well believe it, maybe he was only a cousin)—our business is to plow and enrich the soil, to sow and reap, to plant vines and gather grapes, make wine and bread, work in wood and stone, in cloth and leather; lay out canals and highways, erect great cathedrals and cities adorned with gardens, and embellish with carving and statues; catch sound and imprison it in the flanks of a fiddle, make ourselves masters, in short, of France, the earth and the air above us;—all to add to the pleasure of our lords. How could the people be expected to go any farther and try to grasp the high designs of kings, the quarrels of princes, with all their politics and metaphysics? No, the stick is made for beasts of burden, but which cudgel is the softest and who is to shake it over our backs, is a question too hard for us to decide; if we had the stick in our own hands for a little while it might be easier, but in the meantime there is nothing for it but patience, and to bear the blows as long as we are the anvil; some day our turn will come at the hammer! While I was talking, the Seigneur of Maillebois stood looking at me, in two minds whether to laugh or be angry; fortunately one of his equerries had seen me one day when I was with the late Duke, and he explained who I was, that I was no minstrel, but a fine sculptor and worker in wood, known far
