“How so?” replied the king.
“The company that rode by the bye-path are slain, every one of them save this little page, who is here to tell the sad tale.”
“Is this so, good youth?”
“Alas, my lord, it is too true; from behind the trees they rushed upon our company as we rode lightly and merrily, and no one, save your poor page, lives to tell the tale.”
“For a second time is my life saved by thy maxim; let it be inscribed in gold: ‘Never leave a highway for a bye-way.’”
“For a year and a day, O king, fare thee well.”
“A murrain on the old fool’s maxims,” grumbled the chief of the conspirators, when they discovered that the king had escaped their design; “we are beaten out of every plot, and had best submit to his dominion.”
“Nay,” exclaimed a young and licentious noble, “there is luck in odd numbers, let us have one more trial, a sink or a swim.”
“I care not if we try once more,” said the old rebel; “but come, who suggests a scheme?”