"Why, Jehan,
man, I had forgotten you," he said. "Are these men mad, or am
I?"
But Jehan, a simple rustic, was in a state of ludicrous
bewilderment. "Dol, master, I don't know," he stuttered, rubbing
his head.
"But I am myself," the Mayor cried, in a most ridiculous tone of
remonstrance.
"Dol, and I don't know," the man whimpered. "I do believe that
there is a change in you. I never saw you look the like before.
And I never said any PATER either. Holy saints!" the poor fool
continued piteously, "I wish I were at home. And there, for all
I know, my wife has got another man."
He began to blubber at this; which to us was the most ludicrous
thought, so that it was all we could do to restrain our laughter.
But the Mayor saw things in another light. Shaken by our steady
persistence in our story, and astounded by our want of respect,
the defection of his follower utterly cowed him. After staring
wildly about him for a moment, he fairly turned tail, and sat
down on an old box by the door, where with his hands on his
knees, he looked out before him with such an expression of chap-
fallen bewilderment as nearly discovered our plot by throwing us
into fits of laughter.
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