Alboin alluded to his kingly power and glory, which the fool mocked mightily. He pointed to the glittering crowds of nobles who stood around his throne. “Oh yes,” was the comment of Bertoldo, “they stand round your throne; so do hungry ants round a crab-apple, and with the same purpose,--to devour it.” And therewith he so satirized the condition of a King, that Alboin threatened to have him whipped out of court. Some rather sorry jests followed; but as they were rewarded with unaccountable peals of laughter, the Lombard lords and ladies may be supposed to have been more merry, or much wiser, than we are. The riotous fun was checked for awhile, by the entrance of two women in search of the King and his royal justice. The subject in dispute was a crystal mirror, which was claimed by both, but which had been stolen by one from the other. Alboin, being a most religious as well as gracious King, was, of course, reminded of the Judgment of Solomon, and thought he could not do better than imitate it. He first ordered the mirror to be broken into powder, and divided equally between the rival claimants; and then he commanded it to be delivered whole to the woman who had expressed regret that so splendid a mirror should be destroyed. The entire court was in ecstasy at this rather second-hand wisdom of the King, who, with more conceit than might have been expected in such a stern personage, looked at Bertoldo and asked something tantamount to whether he was not a second Daniel come to judgment? “Your excellent mightiness,” observed the fool, “can only be said to be an ass.” Nevertheless, the King seems to have had the best of it, for Bertoldo simply confined himself to abusing ladies generally, and the two who were lately plaintiff and defendant, in particular,--as impostors, whose wickedness was past imagining. Thereupon the gallant monarch burst forth into a passionate panegyric on the entire female sex, dealing in warm terms and honeyed phrases, like those in a grand _scena_, by some enamoured _tenore robusto_, and which, set to music by a fashionable _maestro_, and trilled by the darling of the season, would make the fortune of Mr. Chappell, were he only lucky enough to secure the copyright. “If I don’t make you change your tune before tomorrow night’s sleep,” said Bertoldo, “gibbet me as high as Haman.” “Be it so!” cried Alboin; “by the bones of the Wise Kings, I will keep thee to thy bargain, Sir Wisdom. Look to it.” Bertoldo flung himself on some straw in the royal stable: he was resolved not to go to sleep till he had provided for his triumph; and in five minutes a chuckle of satisfaction was suddenly succeeded by the loudest snore that had ever startled the affrighted ears of the steeds of Alboin the King.