[34] A variant of this story is found in Le Grand's _Fabliaux et Contes_, ed. 1781, tome iv, p. 119, and it was probably brought from the East during the Crusades: Maimon was a valet to a count. His master, returning home from a tourney, met him on the way, and asked him where he was going. He replied, with great coolness, that he was going to seek a lodging somewhere. "A lodging!" said the count. "What then has happened at home?" "Nothing, my lord. Only your dog, whom you love so much, is dead." "How so?" "Your fine palfrey, while being exercised in the court, became frightened, and in running fell into the well." "Ah, who startled the horse?" "It was your son, Damaiseau, who fell at its feet from the window." "My son!--O Heaven! Where, then, were his servant and his mother? Is he injured?" "Yes, sire, he has been killed by falling. And when they went to tell it to madame, she was so affected that she fell dead also without speaking." "Rascal! in place of flying away, why hast thou not gone to seek assistance, or why didst thou not remain at the chateau?" "There is no more need, sire; for Marotte, in watching madame, fell asleep. A light caused the fire, and there remains nothing now."--Truly a delicate way of "breaking ill news"! The Samradian sect of fire-worshippers, who believe only in the "ideal," anticipated Bishop Berkeley's theory, thus referred to by Lord Byron (_Don Juan_, xi, 1): When Bishop Berkeley said, "there was no matter," And proved it--'twas no matter what he said; They say, his system 'tis in vain to batter, Too subtle for the airiest human head.