but there is no occasion here. A wise man does not waste so good
a commodity as lying for nought. But come; sith it is thy humour
to give over begging, wherewithal shall we busy ourselves? With
robbing kitchens?”
The King said, impatiently–
“Have done with this folly–you weary me!”
Hugo replied, with temper–
“Now harkee, mate; you will not beg, you will not rob; so be it.
But I will tell you what you WILL do. You will play decoy whilst
_I_ beg. Refuse, an’ you think you may venture!”
The King was about to reply contemptuously, when Hugo said,
interrupting–
“Peace! Here comes one with a kindly face. Now will I fall down
in a fit. When the stranger runs to me, set you up a wail, and
fall upon your knees, seeming to weep; then cry out as all the
devils of misery were in your belly, and say, ‘Oh, sir, it is my
poor afflicted brother, and we be friendless; o’ God’s name cast
through your merciful eyes one pitiful look upon a sick, forsaken,
and most miserable wretch; bestow one little penny out of thy
riches upon one smitten of God and ready to perish!’–and mind
you, keep you ON wailing, and abate not till we bilk him of his
penny, else shall you rue it.”
Then immediately Hugo began to moan, and groan, and roll his eyes,
and reel and totter about; and when the stranger was close at
hand, down he sprawled before him, with a shriek, and began to
writhe and wallow in the dirt, in seeming agony.
“O, dear, O dear!” cried the benevolent stranger, “O poor soul,
poor soul, how he doth suffer! There–let me help thee up.”
“O noble sir, forbear, and God love you for a princely gentleman–
but it giveth me cruel pain to touch me when I am taken so. My
brother there will tell your worship how I am racked with anguish
when these fits be upon me. A penny, dear sir, a penny, to buy a
little food; then leave me to my sorrows.”
“A penny! thou shalt have three, thou hapless creature”–and he
fumbled in his pocket with nervous haste and got them out.
“There, poor lad, take them and most welcome. Now come hither, my
boy, and help me carry thy stricken brother to yon house, where–”
“I am not his brother,” said the King, interrupting.
“What! not his brother?”
“Oh, hear him!” groaned Hugo, then privately ground his teeth.
“He denies his own brother–and he with one foot in the grave!”
“Boy, thou art indeed hard of heart, if this is thy brother. For
shame!–and he scarce able to move hand or foot. If he is not thy
brother, who is he, then?”
“A beggar and a thief! He has got your money and has picked your
pocket likewise. An’ thou would’st do a healing miracle, lay thy
staff over his shoulders and trust Providence for the rest.”
But Hugo did not tarry for the miracle. In a moment he was up and
off like the wind, the gentleman following after and raising the
hue and cry lustily as he went. The King, breathing deep
gratitude to Heaven for his own release, fled in the opposite
direction, and did not slacken his pace until he was out of harm’s
reach. He took the first road that offered, and soon put the
village behind him. He hurried along, as briskly as he could,
during several hours, keeping a nervous watch over his shoulder
for pursuit; but his fears left him at last, and a grateful sense
of security took their place. He recognised, now, that he was
hungry, and also very tired. So he halted at a farmhouse; but
when he was about to speak, he was cut short and driven rudely
away. His clothes were against him.
He wandered on, wounded and indignant, and was resolved to put
himself in the way of like treatment no more. But hunger is
pride’s master; so, as the evening drew near, he made an attempt
at another farmhouse; but here he fared worse than before; for he
was called hard names and was promised arrest as a vagrant except