"There is a vulture that, to me, has a very stupid look," observed the beggar. "Who are you, old fellow?" he added, addressing the vulture.
"I am a vulture, a bird of prey; formerly a turkey, a farmyard bird. I wished to mount in rank and quit the sphere in which I won nothing but disrespect; but I repent—repent the change—for I cannot bring myself to devour them."
"Devour whom?" cried Alméric.
"Alas! those good turkeys who have always been so kind to me."
"Ninny!" exclaimed the old beggar, "why did you get yourself turned into a vulture? Better to be a turkey and liked, than a vulture—and timid."
And again the young man could not refrain from laughing at this reflection.
In one corner of the court there was a bear seated on a bench, his head bowed down upon his chest and plunged in profound meditation.
"There's a fellow, too, who does not seem to know much about the business of a bear," remarked the beggar. "How did he come to be in this palace? What vanity has pushed him into the bear profession? I'd lay a wager he once had a better."
The beggar approached the melancholy animal.
"Bear," he asked, "what were you before you got yourself transformed into your present shape?"