As he sat there, presently through the arched gateway there entered a man dressed in a frayed waistcoat of ragged satin, knee breeches of blue plush much the worse for wear, and leather leggings from which half the buckles were gone. Slung around his neck by a gay green ribbon hung a viol, and in one hand he grasped a slender little chain that held in leash a small monkey wearing a tiny red cap. This motley figure was one of the strolling jongleurs, half juggler, half troubadour, who flourished at that time in all parts of France, and managed to eke out a living from the pranks of their monkeys and the practice of the “gay science,” as it was called; that is, by the singing of songs which they themselves usually made up and set to music. As this particular jongleur entered the courtyard, he spied Geoffrey, and strolling over to the bench amiably seated himself beside the boy with a friendly “Good morrow, my lad!” “Good morrow, sir,” answered Geoffrey, rather absently. The jongleur then caught sight of the coach drawn up by the inn wall. “Ah,” he said, “small wonder none came forth to welcome us. Other guests are ahead of me, I perceive.” And, as the monkey climbed upon his knee, he added: “Had thou and I fared hither in yonder yellow cart, Pippo, we should have had the whole inn at our feet. And monsieur, the landlord, would have been down on his knees humbly beseeching to know when my Lord Pippo would be pleased to dine! Hey! Pippo! is’t not true?” But Pippo, paying no attention to him, began mischievously to finger the strings of the viol with his little brown claws, and the jongleur, with a gay laugh, turning to Geoffrey, inquired: “To whom does yonder gaud belong?” “It is the coach of Count Hugo,” said Geoffrey; “he came to-day, and is to fight a duel with Count Boni, of Château Beauvias, to-morrow morning.” “So!” said the jongleur with a short whistle; “well, then, their countships had better let no grass grow under their noble feet, for the king hath but just issued an edict forbidding all such dueling from now on, henceforth and forever.” “What, sir?” said Geoffrey, suddenly rousing up excitedly; “what is that thou sayest?” “Well, well, little man! thou seemest to take this matter somewhat to heart! I was merely mentioning the new edict of our blessed King Louis Ninth, God save his soul, which forbids dueling! It seems our sovereign lord hath grown weary of the foolish practice whereby he hath lost so many noble subjects, and moreover, being a wise monarch, hath become convinced that all disputes should be settled in the courts of law, which he hath been studying much since his return from Constantinople, where the law is held in high esteem—in short, he will have no more ‘judicial duels’; and yesterday when I and Pippo were in Rouen, we heard the king’s heralds as they solemnly proclaimed the new edict to the people.”