His song seemed to startle them, for as they came up, and they numbered near to a dozen, their captain asked us roughly what the devil we did there.
“We are pursuing our trade, gracious excellency,” said the Count of Nullepart.
“What the devil is your trade?” said the captain of the soldiers.
“Our trade is the making of baskets, gracious excellency,” said the Count of Nullepart.
“Let us hope then that you make better baskets than you do music, you loud rogues,” said the captain; “and what the devil have you in the bundle there?”
No sooner had the captain of the soldiers made this inquiry than, to our profound alarm, he gave the bag a prod with the point of his sword; but the occupant thereof, upon whom we were seated, being in a very sooth a royal king, kept himself very close.
“Oh, the bag, your excellency!” said the Count of Nullepart, feigning a mighty carelessness. “The bag contains grasses all the way from Esparto for the making of baskets.”
“Soh!” said the captain, laughing at that which he considered to be the Count of Nullepart’s simplicity, “the bag contains grasses all the way from Esparto, does it? I suppose it does not, by any chance,” and the captain winked at his troopers, “contain the person of the King’s majesty?”
“The person of the King’s majesty!” cried the Count of Nullepart, opening his eyes very wide. “Oh no, gracious excellency! it contains grasses all the way from Esparto. Perhaps your excellency would like to see them?”
So finely did the Count of Nullepart feign bewilderment that the soldiers began to laugh heartily at what they took for his simplicity. As if to convince them of the truth of his statement he made a pretence of trying to open the wrong end of the bag.