“In that case you must be against Concini?” “By no means, your Lordship, we are for him also.” “But, man, you don’t seem to understand that they are enemies.” “That may be--but we want both of them to succeed.” “How absurd! You have to be on one side or the other, don’t you know that? Stupid!” “Must I really, my Lord? Can’t I get out of it? Well, if I must, I must, only let me think it over; a man can’t make up his mind like that all in a minute!” “Why, what in the world are you waiting for?” “Only to know which will come out on top!” “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, you rascal! Do you mean that you have not sense enough to know light from darkness, or the King from his enemies?” I explained with an air of perfect simplicity that I was not so blinded but that I could tell day from night, but that when it came to the King or the Princes, if I was forced to choose between them, I could not tell which party drank most, or did the greatest harm to the country. “Far be it from me,” said I, “to speak evil of dignities. I wish them all good health and prosperity. To you too, your noble Lordship! They have fine appetites and I am something of a hearty eater myself, but to make a clean breast of it, if they must eat, I had rather it should be at some one’s else expense!” “Do you respect nothing, fellow?” “I respect and love my own belongings.” “Don’t you know that it is your duty to make sacrifices for the King, your master?” I told him respectfully that I should be only too glad to do so if there was no way of getting out of it, but I asked him to explain to me how it happened that there were the people of France, who loved their fields and their vineyards, and there also was the King who wanted only to devour them;--I said I knew well enough that every one had his place in the world, and some were made to eat and some to be eaten; politics I had heard was the art of filling your own stomach, and that was an art reserved for the noble, and the land for the peasant. But what was a poor man to do, since he was not allowed to have an opinion? And besides, as we are all as ignorant as our father Adam, (they say that he was his Lordship’s father also, but I could not well believe it, maybe he was only a cousin)--our business is to plow and enrich the soil, to sow and reap, to plant vines and gather grapes, make wine and bread, work in wood and stone, in cloth and leather; lay out canals and highways, erect great cathedrals and cities adorned with gardens, and embellish with carving and statues; catch sound and imprison it in the flanks of a fiddle, make ourselves masters, in short, of France, the earth and the air above us;--all to add to the pleasure of our lords. How could the people be expected to go any farther and try to grasp the high designs of kings, the quarrels of princes, with all their politics and metaphysics? No, the stick is made for beasts of burden, but which cudgel is the softest and who is to shake it over our backs,