for his son's wife, for that she seemed a lady of high lineage. And Nicolete heard them, and had no joy of it, so began to say:

Here singeth one:

Thus she spake, the bright of Then am I in such derray,

brow:

"Lord of Torelore and king,
Thy folk deem me a light thing,
When my love doth me embrace,
Fair he finds me, in good case,

Neither harp, nor lyre, nor lay,
Dance nor game, nor rebeck
play,

Were so sweet."

Then speak they, say they, tell they the Tale:

Aucassin dwelt in the castle of Torelore, in great ease and great delight, for that he had with him Nicolete, his sweet love, whom he loved so well.

[The story runs on that three years later the Saracens invade the land and carry off Aucassin and Nicolete. The ships were scattered by a storm, and Aucassin was shipwrecked at Biaucaire, where he became ruler. Nicolete was carried to Carthage, where she recognized the home of her childhood, and was accepted as the King's daughter. But when they wished her to marry she stole away, disguised as a harper. Taken on a ship, she reached Provence, and passed to Biaucaire. Here she sang her own story and was reunited to Aucassin.] When Aucassin heareth now That his lady bright of brow Dwelleth in his own

trie,

coun

Never man was glad as he.
To her castle doth he hie
With the lady speedily,
Passeth to the chamber high,
Findeth Nicolete thereby.
Of her true love found again
Never maid was half so fain.
Straight she leaped upon her
feet:

When his love he saw at last,
Arms about her did he cast,

Kissed her often, kissed her
sweet,

Kissed her lips and brow and

IN the twelfth century the roads of France were so crowded with traveling minstrels that King Philip Augustus limited their number by law. Many then went abroad, wandering in Italy, Spain, Germany and England. A noted member of this class was Ruteboeuf, born in 1230, and educated at the University of Paris, though he took no degree. Up and down the country he wandered, playing his fiddle, singing his songs, and telling his story of alternate gayety and misery. He was robbed on the highway and dreaded a worse fate. Returning to the capital, he assured his hearers that he had traveled in foreign lands, and brought home many wonderful remedies. He settled down in Paris, however, without mending his fortune. He wrote songs to order, a miracle play, and satires on the vices of the times, especially of the monks. The thriftless, gambling poet married a wife as poor as himself, and found new troubles in providing for his large family. He sang for daily bread, all the while telling his story gaily and wittily. He grew old, lost the sight of one eye, yet sang merrily to the last. Paris had its Bohemians even in the thirteenth century.

THE QUACK DOCTOR.

Hola! lords and ladies all,

Gentles great, and villains small,
Hear what luck doth you befall
On this day.

There is no deceit or guile,

You will own it, if a while

You will stay.

Sit down all, 'twill please you well,
While my tale I sing and tell,
Strange and rare.

Sirs, I am a doctor wise,

Many lands have seen these eyes,
Here and there.

Cairo's city knows my face;
There I treated for a space
Man and maid.

Then I sailed across the seas,

Till my ship brought me to Greece,
Where I stayed.

Next to Italy I came,

Laden with my gold and fame,

THE VILLAIN* THAT GAINED PARADISE.

I tell a tale that once I read ;
'Tis of a villain long since dead,
And of his soul. He passed away
One Friday at the close of day.
When it behooved the man to die,

Angel or devil, none was by:

*Villain is here used in its old sense-countryman, peasant.

And so the soul, from body reft,
Stood waiting there unheeded left.
None came to claim it; all in awe,
Yet half rejoiced, the poor soul saw
No devil instant flames command,
No angel's smiling face at hand;
Then, looking curious here and there,
Perceived a distant portal, where
Saint Michael's self was leading straight
A happy soul through Heaven's gate.
The villain followed, till at last
To Paradise itself he passed.

St. Peter, Heaven's porter, who
Had opened gates to let them through,
The soul received by Michael brought,
And then his eyes the villain caught.
"Who art thou?" asked he, when he saw
The soul come in against the law.
"Here is there entrance none, except
For those by judgment strict elect.
Besides, in truth, by Saint Gillain,
We want not here base-born villain."

To whom the villain made reply,
"No worse than you, fair saint, am I;
Harder are you than any stone;
Small honor have the churches won
From your apostleship. 'Twas you
Who did deny your Saviour true."

Ashamed and angry, Peter stayed,
And called Saint Thomas to his aid.
Said Thomas: "Leave the case to me,
Not long in Heaven his soul shall be."
Then to the villain goes, and, “Say
By what authority you stay,

False villain, where no soul may come
Without escort?

This is no home
From Paradise

The villain cries:

For such as you.
Begone at once."
"Ah! Thomas, Thomas, is it well
For thee such measure rude to tell?
Art thou not he who, doubting still,
Would'st not confess thy Lord until,

False and of little faith, I ween,

His very wounds thine eyes had seen?"

Saint Thomas grieved, with answer none, Bent low his head, and next is gone

Straight to Saint Paul. "Now, by my head,"
Cried Paul, "this villain shall be sped."
"Villain," said he, "you enter here,
Regardless of all right-all fear;
Know, villain base, of low degree,

That Paradise is not for thee:

Therefore begone." "What!" cried the soul, "Do I behold the apostle Paul?

That Paul who, cruel past compare,
Stoned Stephen, first of martyrs fair?
Full well I know thy life of old,
How many a man, betray'd and sold,
Was put to death by thee and thine,
Apostle fair, and saint divine.
Ha! have I not thy exploits heard?”
Saint Paul, abashed, with never a word
In answer, with confusion burned,
And to the other two returned.

They laid the case before the Lord;
Peter it was who spoke the word.
Judgment he pleads against the clown.
Who had so rudely cast him down,
That now he dared not take his place
Where one had shamed him to his face.
Then God says, "I must see this man."
Back to the gate the apostle ran.
God calls the clown and says, "Why now
Have you come here? And further, how
Can you expect to stay, if these
Apostles mine, you flout and tease?”

"Sire, they first sought to drive me out. But I told what I knew about

The faults of those that here I found.

My deeds and words on earth were sound.

I ne'er denied you, ne'er lost faith,

I ne'er stoned any one to death.
No one comes here till you decree;
Therefore judge me. A poor man see,