Our cobbler saw the occurrence. "Take care, my masters," as he watched the arrogant noble who had just reached his palace gates; "take care, or you will discover, when too late to remedy your faults, that your days of prosperity have passed away." No sooner did the duke enter the lofty gateway of his palace, than the major-domo rushed down stairs to hold his stirrup while he alighted, his young kinsman throwing himself from his steed, without waiting for assistance, and the attendants bustling about and creating more noise and confusion than was at all necessary. "Why has the duke so suddenly returned to the city?" thought the Cobbler. "I must watch and learn, for 'tis about no good, I am certain." It has just occurred to us, that we have never given our cobbler's name. By diligent search through the vast pile of manuscripts before us, we have discovered the important piece of information that he was called Antonio, generally with _O Memendab_, or the Mender, added thereto. No dignified title, certainly! but he was contented with it, and so must we be; for we cannot anywhere discover what was his other name, if he ever had one, which we deem problematical. Several days passed before Antonio became much wiser as to the cause of the duke's movements than on the first day of his arrival, though he narrowly watched all his outgoings, and incomings, and also most diligently questioned the servants who stepped across the street to have five minutes' chat with him. The duke had just driven out, when one of the lackeys, rejoicing in the name of Joze, was sauntering about the hall, and having nothing to do, bethought him that he would honour the cobbler with his society. "Good day, Senhor Joze," said the Cobbler, as he saw him approach; "you have pleasant times of it, with nothing to do, and plenty to eat, while I must hammer, hammer, and stitch, stitch, all day long, to earn a few _vintems_ to supply my food." "You are right, Senhor Antonio, you are right," answered Joze, as he leaned, with his hands in his pockets, a toothpick in his mouth, and his legs crossed, against the wall; "we have a tolerable life of it; for, except that the duke sits inside, while we stand outside, what difference is there between us? and when the people take off their hats, it is as much to our fine coats as to him. Then we eat the same food, and drink the same wines as he does, only a good deal more of each than he can, in which we have the advantage of him, and as for knowledge, between ourselves, there is not much difference either." "Ah! the duke is a good master, and blessed with good servants," returned Antonio. "Why, as to his servants, I must not speak, as I am one of them," answered Joze, pulling out his ruffles; "but his Excellency himself-- whom God preserve--would be all the better if he did not beat us so confoundedly when he is angered; but that is a trifle--it is his privilege, and we must be content."