We have not forgotten the Bohemian, who, arriving in the train of the recorder, had, upon the baron’s invitation, scaled the balcony in so agile and surprising a manner.
To make use of a particular and modern expression, the vagabond Bohemian had become quite the fashion in the rustic and warlike habitation of Raimond V.
In the first place, he had mended numerous household utensils with remarkable skill.
Then Eclair, the favourite greyhound of the baron, put her paw out of joint, whereupon the Bohemian went up on the mountain and gathered certain herbs by the light of the moon, and carefully wrapped the sick member in them, and the next day Eclair was able to stretch her legs on the rosy heather of the baronial plains and valleys.
That was not all. Mistraon, the favourite horse of Raimond V., was wounded in the frush of his foot by a sharp stone; by means of a thin layer of iron deftly inserted in the slope of the shoe, the Bohemian made a sort of Turkish horseshoe, which ever after preserved the invalid foot of Mistraon from all injury.
The baron doted on the Bohemian. Dame Dulceline herself, notwithstanding her holy horror of this unbeliever, who, never having been baptised, could not bear the name of Christian, relented somewhat when the unbeliever gave her marvellous recipes for colouring pieces of glass, stuffing birds, and making excellent cordials.
The good Abbé Mascarolus was not less under the charm, thanks to some pharmaceutic specifics of which the Bohemian had given him the secret. The only regret of the worthy chaplain was to find the vagabond so obstinate and shy upon the subject of his conversion.
Such was the serious side of the Bohemian’s qualifications. To that he united the most versatile and agreeable accomplishments. He had in a little cage two beautiful pigeons, which showed an almost superhuman intelligence; his ass astonished the household of Maison-Forte by the grace with which he walked on his hind legs; besides, the Bohemian played with iron balls and daggers as well as the best juggler from India; he was as good a marksman as the most accomplished carabineer; and, finally, to conclude the enumeration of this vagabond’s wonderful attractions, he sang charmingly, as he accompanied himself on a sort of Moorish guitar with three strings.
It was doubtless to this talent that he owed the nickname of the “Singer,” by which he was known among his comrades.
Stephanette was the first to inform her mistress of the new troubadour; in fact, although he was rather ugly than handsome, the flexible and expressive features of the Bohemian seemed almost charming when he sang his soft and melancholy songs.