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hoofs and an impatient neigh that I recognized as belonging to my
waiting horse。
Came steps and movementssteps openly advertised as suppressed with
the intent of silence and that yet were deliberately noisy with the
secret intent of rousing me if I still slept。 I smiled inwardly at
the rascal's trick。
〃Pons；〃 I ordered； without opening my eyes； 〃water； cold water；
quick； a deluge。 I drank over long last night； and now my gullet
scorches。〃
〃And slept over long to…day；〃 he scolded； as he passed me the water；
ready in his hand。
I sat up； opened my eyes； and carried the tankard to my lips with
both my hands。 And as I drank I looked at Pons。
Now note two things。 I spoke in French； I was not conscious that I
spoke in French。 Not until afterward； back in solitary； when I
remembered what I am narrating； did I know that I had spoken in
Frenchay； and spoken well。 As for me； Darrell Standing； at
present writing these lines in Murderers' Row of Folsom Prison； why；
I know only high school French sufficient to enable me to read the
language。 As for my speaking itimpossible。 I can scarcely
intelligibly pronounce my way through a menu。
But to return。 Pons was a little withered old man。 He was born in
our houseI know； for it chanced that mention was made of it this
very day I am describing。 Pons was all of sixty years。 He was
mostly toothless； and； despite a pronounced limp that compelled him
to go slippity…hop； he was very alert and spry in all his movements。
Also； he was impudently familiar。 This was because he had been in
my house sixty years。 He had been my father's servant before I
could toddle； and after my father's death （Pons and I talked of it
this day） he became my servant。 The limp he had acquired on a
stricken field in Italy； when the horsemen charged across。 He had
just dragged my father clear of the hoofs when he was lanced through
the thigh； overthrown； and trampled。 My father； conscious but
helpless from his own wounds； witnessed it all。 And so； as I say；
Pons had earned such a right to impudent familiarity that at least
there was no gainsaying him by my father's son。
Pons shook his head as I drained the huge draught。
〃Did you hear it boil？〃 I laughed； as I handed back the empty
tankard。
〃Like your father；〃 he said hopelessly。 〃But your father lived to
learn better； which I doubt you will do。〃
〃He got a stomach affliction；〃 I devilled； 〃so that one mouthful of
spirits turned it outside in。 It were wisdom not to drink when
one's tank will not hold the drink。〃
While we talked Pons was gathering to my bedside my clothes for the
day。
〃Drink on； my master；〃 he answered。 〃It won't hurt you。 You'll die
with a sound stomach。〃
〃You mean mine is an iron…lined stomach？〃 I wilfully misunderstood
him。
〃I mean〃 he began with a quick peevishness； then broke off as he
realized my teasing and with a pout of his withered lips draped my
new sable cloak upon a chair…back。 〃Eight hundred ducats；〃 he
sneered。 〃A thousand goats and a hundred fat oxen in a coat to keep
you warm。 A score of farms on my gentleman's fine back。〃
〃And in that a hundred fine farms； with a castle or two thrown in；
to say nothing； perhaps； of a palace；〃 I said； reaching out my hand
and touching the rapier which he was just in the act of depositing
on the chair。
〃So your father won with his good right arm；〃 Pons retorted。 〃But
what your father won he held。〃
Here Pons paused to hold up to scorn my new scarlet satin doubleta
wondrous thing of which I had been extravagant。
〃Sixty ducats for that；〃 Pons indicted。 〃Your father'd have seen
all the tailors and Jews of Christendom roasting in hell before he'd
a…paid such a price。〃
And while we dressedthat is； while Pons helped me to dressI
continued to quip with him。
〃It is quite clear； Pons； that you have not heard the news；〃 I said
slyly。
Whereat up pricked his ears like the old gossip he was。
〃Late news？〃 he queried。 〃Mayhap from the English Court？〃
〃Nay；〃 I shook my head。 〃But news perhaps to you； but old news for
all of that。 Have you not heard？ The philosophers of Greece were
whispering it nigh two thousand years ago。 It is because of that
news that I put twenty fat farms on my back； live at Court； and am
become a dandy。 You see； Pons； the world is a most evil place； life
is most sad； all men die； and； being dead 。 。 。 well； are dead。
Wherefore； to escape the evil and the sadness； men in these days；
like me； seek amazement； insensibility； and the madnesses of
dalliance。〃
〃But the news； master？ What did the philosophers whisper about so
long ago？〃
〃That God was dead； Pons；〃 I replied solemnly。 〃Didn't you know
that？ God is dead； and I soon shall be； and I wear twenty fat farms
on my back。〃
〃God lives；〃 Pons asserted fervently。 〃God lives； and his kingdom
is at hand。 I tell you； master； it is at hand。 It may be no later
than to…morrow that the earth shall pass away。〃
〃So said they in old Rome； Pons； when Nero made torches of them to
light his sports。〃
Pons regarded me pityingly。
〃Too much learning is a sickness；〃 he complained。 〃I was always
opposed to it。 But you must have your will and drag my old body
about with youa…studying astronomy and numbers in Venice； poetry
and all the Italian FOL…DE…ROLS in Florence； and astrology in Pisa；
and God knows what in that madman country of Germany。 Pish for the
philosophers！ I tell you； master； I； Pons； your servant； a poor old
man who knows not a letter from a pike…staffI tell you God lives；
and the time you shall appear before him is short。〃 He paused with
sudden recollection； and added： 〃He is here； the priest you spoke
of。〃
On the instant I remembered my engagement。
〃Why did you not tell me before？〃 I demanded angrily。
〃What did it matter？〃 Pons shrugged his shoulders。 〃Has he not been
waiting two hours as it is？〃
〃Why didn't you call me？〃
He regarded me with a thoughtful； censorious eye。
〃And you rolling to bed and shouting like chanticleer； 'Sing cucu；
sing cucu； cucu nu nu cucu； sing cucu； sing cucu； sing cucu； sing
cucu。'〃
He mocked me with the senseless refrain in an ear…jangling falsetto。
Without doubt I had bawled the nonsense out on my way to bed。
〃You have a good memory；〃 I commented drily； as I essayed a moment
to drape my shoulders with the new sable cloak ere I tossed it to
Pons to put aside。 He shook his head sourly。
〃No need of memory when you roared it over and over for the
thousandth time till half the inn was a…knock at the door to spit
you for the sleep…killer you were。 And when I had you decently in
the bed； did you not call me to you and command； if the devil
called； to tell him my lady slept？ And did you not call me back
again； and； with a grip on my arm that leaves it bruised and black
this day； command me； as I loved life； fat meat； and the warm fire；
to call you not of the morning save for one thing？〃
〃Which was？〃 I prompted； unable for the life of me to guess what I
could have said。
〃Which was the heart of one； a black buzzard； you said； by name
Martinelliwhoever he may befor the heart of Martinelli smoking
on a gold platter。 The platter must be gold； you said； and you said
I must call you by singing； 'Sing cucu； sing cucu； sing cucu。'
Whereat you began to teach me how to sing； 'Sing cucu； sing cucu；
sing cucu。'〃
And when Pons had said the name； I knew it at once for the priest；
Martinelli； who had been knocking his heels two mortal hours in the
room without。
When Martinelli was permitted to enter and as he saluted me by title
and name； I knew at once my name and all of it。 I was Count
Guillaume de Sainte…Maure。 （You see； only could I know then； and
remember afterward； what was in my conscious mind。）
The priest was Italian； dark and small； lean as with fasting or with
a wasting hunger not of this world； and his hands were as small and
slender as a woman's。 But his eyes！ They were cunning and
trustless； narrow…slitted and heavy…lidded； at one and the same time
as sharp as a ferret's and as indolent as a basking lizard's。
〃There has been much delay； Count de Sainte…Maure；〃 he began
promptly； when Pons had left the room at a glance from me。 〃He whom
I serve grows impatient。〃
〃Change your tune； priest；〃 I broke in angrily。 〃Remember； you are
not now in Rome。〃
〃My august master〃 he began。
〃Rules augustly in Rome； mayhap；〃 I again interrupted。 〃This is
France。〃
Martinelli shrugged his shoulders meekly and patiently； but his
eyes； gleaming like a basilisk's； gave his shoulders the lie。
〃My august master has some concern with the doings of France；〃 he
said quietly。 〃The lady is not for you。 My master has other plans。
。 。〃 He moistened his thin lips with his tongue。 〃Oth