'Tis of an Eastern King, one Haroun,
surnamed, as I shall be surnamed, The Just."
Tristan grunted sceptically, but Louis, ignoring the ejaculation,
went on.
"It was his pastime to go about Bagdad of nights in disguise, and
mingling with his people learn much to the advantage of the realm. I
am following his example, and I expect to learn much in my turn."
Tristan looked pityingly at the complacent king. "You are likely to
learn how unpopular you are, which I could have told you without
this trouble; and you will be lucky if you do not get your throat
cut into the bargain."
Something almost like a smile disturbed the familiar composure of
the king's wrinkles. He took another sip of the wine and his
affability expanded. "You are always a bird of evil omen," he
chirped. "Be bright, man; look at me. The Burgundian Leaguer is at
my gates; my throne sways like a rocking-chair, yet I don't pull a
sad face."
"It's a good thing that somebody is pleased," Tristan commented.
"Yes," said Louis, opening out his thin hands and studying their
palms attentively, "I am pleased--" Tristan interrupted him roughly.
"Pleased that the Burgundians threaten you outside the walls of
Paris; pleased that Thibaut d'Aussigny bullies you inside the walls
of Paris; pleased that your soldiers are mutinous; pleased that your
citizens are sullen; by my faith, here are four royal reasons for a
royal pleasure.
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