The other three men were roused from a state of indifference at these angry words. They sided with the little captain, and gave the general to understand clearly that they thought he was capable of the imputed meanness. He, however, looked big, and full of importance, and swore he had not cheated. "If the holy Peter, my gracious patron, who I carry on my hat, could speak, he would bear me witness, as true as I am a Christian lansquenet, that I have not played false!"
"He played fair," said a strange voice, which appeared to issue from the tree. The men crossed themselves to defend them from an evil spirit, the gallant general even turned pale, and let drop his cards; when a peasant stept forward from behind the tree, armed with a dagger, and having a guitar slung over his shoulder with a leathern strap. He beheld the group with an undaunted eye, and said, "That gentleman did not cheat; I saw all the cards that were dealt to him."
"Ah! you are a fine fellow," said the general, much pleased; "as I am an honest lansquenet, what you say is all right."
"But how is this?" said the little captain, with a sharp look, "how did this peasant get here without being announced by the piquet? He is a spy, and deserves to be hung."
"Don't be astonished, Muckerle, he is no spy; come and sit down by me, my friend, you are a musician, I see, by your instrument hanging over your shoulder, like a Spaniard going to serenade his love."
"Yes, sir! I am a poor musician; your guard allowed me to pass when I came through the wood. I saw you playing, and I ventured to look on."
The commanders of this free corps not being accustomed to hear themselves addressed in such polite terms, took a liking to the peasant, and invited him courteously to seat himself among them; for they had learned in the military service of foreign countries that kings and princes often went about in the guise of minstrels.
The general filled a cup of wine out of a pewter bottle, offered it to the little captain, and said, with a good-natured smile, "Muckerle, what I drink shall be my death, if I don't forget everything that has passed between us! an end to strife and quarrel. We won't play any more, gentlemen: I love a song and the sound of the guitar--what say you to some music?"
The men agreed, and threw the cards aside. The peasant tuned his instrument, and asked what he should sing.
"Give us a song upon card-playing!" cried one of the party.