“Henry dreams, but he will awake,” said the Emperor curtly. “Hark you--you seem to be a clever mountebank, and I know what power fellows of your sort have over the mob--add to your play lines to be spoken by your puppet King. They should convey this meaning--that although he is a King he is but a puppet incapable of independent action. Puppets that go wrong are broken up and burned in the fire. My will is the law for my realm. Saxony shall be taught that law as Milan was taught, if Henry dares disobey.” Writing a brief sentence or two on his tablets, the Emperor affixed his signet and gave the missive to Giovanni. “That shall be your proof that you come from me. Stefano tells me that you go on into Lombardy. Forget not the meaning of your puppet-show when you reach those rebellious states. They have been chastised once or twice before.” Giovanni was left alone. On the morrow he took his departure for Saxony and did his errand. The Duke of Saxony remained at home, and Barbarossa went on without his aid to meet defeat at Legnano. Giovanni met Stefano by chance in Venice when the Emperor went there to sign the peace treaty. “His armies were doomed from the first,” the jester said in his hoarse guttural sing-song. “They were weighted with the souls of the martyred hostages of Crema. I have lived to see that siege avenged,--and now I must go on livin--and never see Milan again.” Marveling much at the heights and depths in the soul of a traitor Giovanni went on his way to England. There he discussed with Tomaso the Paduan physician, Ranulph the troubadour and Brother Basil of the Irish Benedictines the astonishing destruction of the Emperor's army. But he said no word of Stefano. “It is all in the formula on which his power was based,” said the alchemist thoughtfully. “No man--be he duke, prince or kaiser--can pose as the master of humanity. Men are not puppets; they are free souls in a free world. You cannot make even a puppet-player move contrary to its nature.” “That is true,” said Giovanni. “And I have never had two that behaved exactly alike. Fantoccini have their own ways of acting--and when you pull the strings yourself, you know.” THE ABBOT'S LESSON There were twelve good monks and an Abbot who came To found the Abbey and give the name In the early days when the stones were laid, And each of them knew a craft or a trade. Sebastian the shepherd and Peter the smith, James who made leather, and sandals therewith, Hilarius the cook, of great skill in his art, Anselm whose herbal lay close to his heart, Gildas the fisherman, Paul of the plough, Arnold who looked to the bins and the mow, Matthew the vintner and Mark the librarian, Clement the joiner and John apiarian, Each wise in his calling as craftsmen are made,-- And each deep in love with his own special trade. But the Abbot was canny, and never would raise One above other by blame or by praise.