“That makes no difference to me,” said Jehan, “‘tis I who have the purse.”

At that moment he heard a powerful and sonorous voice articulate behind him a formidable series of oaths. “Sang Dieu! Ventre-.Dieu! B�dieu! Corps de Dieu! Nombril de Belzebuth! Nom d’un pape! Come et tonnerre.”

“Upon my soul!” exclaimed Jehan, “that can only be my friend, Captain Phoebus!”

This name of Phoebus reached the ears of the archdeacon at the moment when he was explaining to the king’s procurator the dragon which is hiding its tail in a bath, from which issue smoke and the head of a king.

Dom Claude started, interrupted himself and, to the great amazement of