"Tristan, I had a strange dream last night I dreamed that I was a
swine rooting in the streets of Paris, and that I found a pearl of
great price in the kennel. I picked it up and set it in my crown--"

"A crowned pig," Tristan interrupted. "'Tis like a tavern sign."
Louis did not seem to resent the interruption.

"My good gossip, in a dream nothing seems strange. Well, as I said,
I set this pearl in my crown and the light of it seemed to fill all
my good city of Paris with glory so that I could see every street
and alley, every tower and pinnacle, more clearly than in a summer's
noon. And then memought that the pearl weighed so heavy upon my
forehead that I plucked it from its place and cast it to the ground,
and would have trodden it under foot when a star shot swiftly from
Heaven and stayed me."

The king looked eagerly at his companion, who seemed wholly
uninterested in the narrative of the royal vision. "Dreams and
stars, stars and dreams," he sneered. "Leave dreams to weaklings,
sire." Louis frowned. "Don't sneer, gossip, but instruct, who are
these people?" and the sharp, lean face of the king thrust itself
forward a little, bird-like from the nest of its hood, in the
direction of the gamblers. His companion shrugged his shoulders.

"Some of the worst cats and rats in all Paris," he answered. "The
men belong to a fellowship that is called the Company of the
Cockleshells, and babble a cant of their own that baffles the
thief-takers. If your majesty--" but here a warning kick from Louis
made him wince and change his words-"if you wished to savour