"Then you will be hung too, cousin," said the jester. "Would you really dare to execute a man without confession? I came here to witness the death of a bandit, but not to see the devil steal his soul! If you have any respect for your own life, cousin, you will put off the business until I bring here a monk, or a bishop, or if needs, the Pope himself!" This said, he rushed toward the encampment.
Hesso bit his lips sullenly, but he knew the positive order which existed, that no one was to be put to death, without first receiving the succors of religion.
"Lead the prisoner back to his dungeon," said he, "until the fool and the priest have finished their task."
The jester stopped before a tent whose splendid appearance denoted the princely rank of its occupant. In front of the entrance floated a banner on which were blazoned the arms and bearings of episcopal dignity. Upon the threshold stood a man, evidently of high rank, gazing idly at the busy movement of the camp. He wore a long tunic, magnificently embroidered on the cuffs and collar; his hands sparkled with rings of gold and precious stones; his expression was engaging, and he smiled cordially as the fool approached.
"I'm in luck!" cried the jester; "I was only looking for a monk, and I've stumbled on a prelate in all his glory."
"What do you want, rascal?"
"To save a soul from Satan, cousin Adelbert! There is a poor fellow near here who is going to be hanged; he is still in the bonds of sin, and I want you to come out and cut them, so that he can spring from the gallows straight into Abraham's bosom!"
"But, Lanzo," replied Adelbert, "don't you perceive that I have neither sword nor dagger in my belt."
"Oh! cousin, your tongue is sharp enough of itself. Come with me!"
"What! a prelate follow a fool! Rogue, you ought to be flogged."