“For myself,” replied Palissy, “I may say matters are now, comparatively speaking, prosperous with me. Much have I suffered, however, since I last saw you. During the space of fifteen or sixteen years in all, I have blundered on at my business. When I had learned to guard against one danger, there came another on which I had not reckoned. I made several furnaces, which caused me great losses, before I understood how to heat them equally. At last I found means to make various vessels of different enamels, intermixed, in the manner of jasper. That fed me several years; and, when at length, I had discovered how to make my rustic pieces, {82} I was in greater trouble and vexation than before, for having made a certain number of them, and put them to bake, my enamels turned out, some beautiful and well melted, and others quite the reverse; because they were composed of different materials, which were fusible in different degrees. Thus, the green of the lizards was burnt long before the colour of the serpents was melted; and the colour of the serpents, lobsters, tortoises, and crabs, was melted before the white had attained any beauty. All these defects caused me such labour and heaviness of spirit, that, before I could render my enamels fusible at the same degree of heat, I verily thought I should be at the door of my sepulchre.” “Nay, my friend, you look tolerably stout, at present, and carry your fifty years as well as most men.” “It may be so,” was the reply, “but you would have thought otherwise, had you seen me some time since, for, from incessant labour and anxiety, in the space of more than ten years, I had so fallen away in my person, that there was no longer any form in my legs or roundness in my arms; insomuch that my limbs were all one thickness, and as soon as I began to walk, the strings with which I fastened the bottom of my hose dropped about my heels, together with my stockings. I frequently used to walk in the meadows of Saintes, considering my vexation and affliction, and above all, that I could meet with no comfort or approval even in my own house. But, indeed, I was despised and scorned by all. Nevertheless, I always contrived to make some ware of divers colours, which afforded me some sort of a living. The hope which supported me, meantime, gave me such manly courage for my work, that oftentimes, to entertain persons who came to see me, I would endeavour to laugh, although within me I felt very sad.” . . . “Who would believe Master Bernard was ever very sad?” said a lively voice, and at the same moment a cavalier entered the workshop, and passing through it, peeped in at the door of the studio where Palissy was seated with his friend. “You are too prosperous a man to speak after that fashion; and your coffers must be filling apace, to judge by the value set on your beautiful designs in pottery.” “The Seigneur de Burie speaks too favourably of my work,” replied Bernard, while his visitor, rapidly