The next day he put on a false beard and the dress of a date merchant, and, taking a little table, he placed himself before the door of the church.
He spread carefully out on a fine white cloth his Mirabelle plums, which looked for all the world as if they had been freshly gathered, and when he saw the Princess coming out of church he began to call out in a feigned voice: ‘Fine plums! lovely plums!’
‘How much are they?’ said the Princess.
‘Fifty crowns each.’
‘Fifty crowns! But what is there so very precious about them? Do they give one wit, or will they increase one’s beauty?’
‘They could not increase what is perfect already, fair Princess, but still they might add something.’
Rolling stones gather no moss, but they sometimes gain polish; and the months which John had spent in roaming about the world had not been wasted. Such a neatly turned compliment flattered Ludovine.
‘What will they add?’ she smilingly asked.
‘You will see, fair Princess, when you taste them. It will be a surprise for you.’
Ludovine’s curiosity was roused. She drew out the purse and shook out as many little heaps of fifty crowns as there were plums in the basket. The little soldier was seized with a wild desire to snatch the purse from her and proclaim her a thief, but he managed to control himself.