"Far be it from me to assert that it does," replied Drost Peter; "but I have observed that even the most upright of our commoners take a singular pleasure, whilst jesting, in striving to tack something on a person's sleeve, as they term it, strictly, however, without telling an untruth. In this consists a great portion of the craft and wit of our common people. It may be highly good-natured and innocent; but, in times like these, it is still a dangerous quality, which renders it extremely difficult to distinguish the true friends of the crown from its secret enemies." "Nay, nay," exclaimed Jomfru Ingé, gladly; "in this you greatly err, Drost Peter. You know our brave and trusty countrymen better. I often see and converse with the poorest and humblest of them. They speak openly and impatiently of their burdens, and, in their language, do not spare the great and powerful. They are not afraid to utter the boldest truths, even as regards the king and his favourites; but, when I speak to them of the crown and kingdom, with the view of ascertaining their opinions respecting an illegally imposed king, you should see how readily they forget their own grievances, and how uprightly they express their devoted attachment to the ancient, legitimate, royal family. It is true that, when jesting, they often find great amusement in figurative language, and in befooling each other with old proverbs, and suchlike; but this good-natured sort of waggishness I rather admire, and certainly think there is nothing wrong in it." "I do not blame that which is so natural to the people, and, in a manner, born with them," replied Drost Peter. "None of us are entirely free from it," he added. "We have both, perhaps, to-day, noble Jomfru Ingé, and even at this very hour, concealed what we know, and avoided the truth, to spare ourselves or others, without having said an untrue word." Lady Ingé blushed. "Every one has a right to do so," she said, earnestly. "What I will not and ought not to say, no power on earth shall compel me to speak. If we could not be veracious and upright, without telling everything we know, there would be few honest men in existence. You shall judge between us, good Cecilia," she continued, turning playfully to her relation, who had hitherto been a silent listener. "Think you Drost Peter himself is so upright, that he would tell us truly, were we to ask him, which colour he esteems most highly?" "We need not ask him that," replied Cecilia: "the colour you now wear in your hairband, is that worn by the drost--last year, at least."