One day, while the King was still absent from Paris, I had a mind to play tennis, and for that purpose summoned La Trape, who had the charge of my balls, and sometimes, in the absence of better company, played with me. Of late the balls he bought had given me small satisfaction, and I bade him bring me the bag, that I might choose the best. He did so, and I had not handled half-a-dozen before I found one, and later three others, so much more neatly sewn than the rest, and in all points so superior, that even an untrained eye could not fail to detect the difference. "Look, man!" I said, holding out one of these for his inspection. "These are balls; the rest are rubbish. Cannot you see the difference? Where did you buy these? At Constant's?" He muttered, "No, my lord," and looked confused. This roused my curiosity. "Where, then?" I said sharply. "Of a man who was at the gate yesterday." "Oh!" I said. "Selling tennis balls?" "Yes, my lord." "Some rogue of a marker," I exclaimed, "from whom you bought filched goods! Who was it, man?" "I don't know his name," La Trape answered. "He was a Spaniard." "Well?" "Who wanted to have an audience of your excellency." "Ho!" I said drily. "Now I understand. Bring me your book. Or, tell me, what have you charged me for these balls?" "Two francs," he muttered reluctantly. "And never gave a sou, I'll swear!" I retorted. "You took the poor devil's balls, and left him at the gate! Ay, it is rogues like you get me a bad name!" I continued, affecting more anger than I felt--for, in truth, I was rather pleased with my quickness in discovering the cheat. "You steal and I bear the blame, and pay to boot! Off with you and find the fellow, and bring him to me, or it will be the worse for you!" Glad to escape so easily, La Trape ran to the gate; but he failed to find his friend, and two or three days elapsed before I thought again of the matter, such petty rogueries being ingrained in a great man's VALETAILLE, and being no more to be removed than the hairs from a man's arm. At the end of that time La Trape came to me, bringing the Spaniard; who had appeared again at the gate. The stranger proved to be a small, slight man, pale and yet brown, with quick-glancing eyes. His dress was decent, but very poor, with more than one rent neatly darned. He made me a profound reverence, and stood waiting, with his cap in his hand, to be addressed; but, with all his humility, I did not fail to detect an easiness of deportment and a propriety that did not seem absolutely strange since he was a Spaniard, but which struck me, nevertheless, as requiring some explanation. I asked him, civilly, who he was. He answered that his name was Diego. "You speak French?" "I am of Guipuzcoa, my lord," he answered, "where we sometimes speak three tongues." "That is true," I said. "And it is your trade to make tennis balls?" "No, my lord; to use them," he answered with a certain dignity.