Its fine dry fragrance soothed
Louis; he took a deep sip and was mollified; another and he had
forgiven if not forgotten his generosity. He winked at Tristan
amiably over the rim of the goblet. "This is seeing life, friend
Tristan," he murmured, contentedly, stretching his thin legs in
delicious ease. But Tristan was in no holiday humour.
"Let's hope it mayn't be seeing death, friend Louis" he snorted.
"There are a couple of rogues in that covey who would spit you or
split you or slit you for the price of a drink."
Louis laughed affably. "And no such cheap bargain," he commented,
"seeing what wine costs here. But this is an interesting business."
Tristan would concede nothing to the king's good-humour. "Where's
the interest?" he asked. "A few bullies, bawds and bonarobas boozing
together. You can keep the same company at court--only a shade
cleaner--and not be out of pocket for the privilege either."
The king's mouth puckered in appreciation of some memory. He leaned
forward and touched Tristan's sleeve.
"Gossip Tristan, there is at my court a scholar who told me an
Eastern tale."
"Pray God it be a gay one such as your majesty loves,"
"Hush, man; no 'Majesty' here.
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