"Well, they came like most folk, because they had to come," smiled the Paduan. "The English weavers are inclined to be jealous folk, and they took the view that these Flemings were foreigners and had no right within London Wall--or outside it either, for they were in a lane somewhere about Mile End. Jealousy fed also on their success in their work--it was far superior to anything London looms can do. And certain dealers in fine cloth saw their profits threatened, and so did the Florentine importers. What with one thing and another Cornelys Bat and his people had to leave the city, or lose all that they possessed. The reasons were as mixed as the threads of a tapestry, but that is the way with life." "And why are you wasting time on them?" the Queen demanded. "My motives are also mixed," answered the old man. "Being myself an alien in a strange land, I had sympathy for them--especially Cimarron, the imp. Also it is interesting to work in a new field, and I have never done much with dyestuffs. I sometimes feel like a child gathering bright pebbles on the shore; each one seems brighter than the last. But really, I think I work because I dislike to spend my time in things which will not live after me. It seemed to me that if these Flemish weavers come here in colonies, teaching their art to such English as can learn, it will bring this land independence and wealth in years to come. There is plenty of pasturage for sheep, and wool needs much labor to make it fit for human use. Edrupt, the merchant--his wife is one of your women, by the way--says that this one craft of weaving will make cities stronger than anything else. And that will disturb some people." The Queen's eyes flashed with wicked amusement. She had heard the King rail to his barons upon the impudence of London. She knew that those who invaded London privilege came poorly out of it. "Barbara's husband," she said thoughtfully. "I did not know that he was a merchant--I thought he was one of these clod-hopping farmers." Tomaso did not enlighten her. Curiosity is the mother of knowledge. He peered out at his fast-filling cisterns. "This rain-water," he observed, "will be excellent for my dyestuffs." The Queen gave a little light laugh. "The heavens roar anathema maranatha," she cried, "and the philosopher says, 'I will fill my tubs.' You seem to be assured that the powers above are devoted to your service." "It is as well," smiled the physician, "to have them to your aid if possible. Some men have a--positive genius--for being on the wrong side. The growth of a people is like the growth of a vine. It will not twine contrary to nature." "But these are not your people," the Queen persisted. "No one will know who did the work you are doing." "Cornelys Bat the tapissier told me," Tomaso answered, "that no one knows now who it was who set the foot at work by tipping the loom over, and separated the warp threads by two treadles. Yet that changed the whole rule of weaving."