THE POPE’S MULE 57

he would do no work and made the
apprentices idle too. For six months
he loafed about in all the slums of
Avignon, but mostly in the neighbour-
hood of the papal palace; for the
rascal had long had his designs on
the Pope’s mule, and you will see what
a cunning idea his was. . . . One day
when His Holiness was riding along
the ramparts all alone with his mule,
up came Tistet to him and exclaimed,
holding up his hands in admira-
tion:

‘Oh, my goodness! Holy Father,
what a fine mule yours is! May I
take the liberty of looking at her... .
Ah, my Lord Pope, what a beautiful
creature. The Emperor of Germany
has none to equal her.’

And he stroked her, speaking gently
to her as if she was a lady:

‘Come then, my jewel, my treasure,
my pearl of price.’

And the good Pope, quite touched,
said to himself: