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rhythm out with his biretta. This shocked his cardinals,
but not so the people, who were delighted by it, and said, "What a good
prince! What a great pope!"
    * * * * *
    After his Château-Neuf vineyard, the pope loved his mule more than
anything else on earth. The old man was quite simply besotted with the
creature. Every night before going to bed, he made sure that the stable
was locked and that there was plenty for her to eat. Also, he never
rose from the table without a large bowl of wine, à la française ,
made with sugar, herbs, and spices, and prepared under his own watchful
eye. He then took it, personally, to the mule, ignoring the cardinals'
reproaches. Certainly, the beast was well worth the trouble, for she
was a handsome, red-dappled, black mule, sure footed, glossy coated,
with a large full rump and proudly carrying her small, slim head fully
got up in pompoms, knots, silver bells and ribbons. She also showed an
honest eye, as sweet as an angel's, and her ever-twitching long ears
gave her a child-like, innocent appearance. Everybody in Avignon loved
her, and when she was trotting through the streets, they all looked
approvingly at her and made a great fuss of her; for everybody knew
that this was the best way to gain the pope's favour. In all innocence,
she had led many a one to good fortune, the proof of which lay in the
person of Tistet Védène and his wonderful venture.
    This Tistet Védène was, in truth, a mischief-maker, to the point where
his father Guy Védène, the renowned goldsmith, had to run him out of
the house, because he refused to do anything and coaxed the apprentices
away from their work. For six months, he was seen hanging around every
low place in Avignon. He was mainly to be seen near the Papal house,
though, because this ne'er-do-well had something in mind for the Pope's
mule, and, as you will see, it was something malicious…. One day, as
His Holiness was out with his mule under the ramparts, along came
Tistet and accosted him, clasping his hands together in feigned
admiration:
    —Oh, my lord, most Holy Father, what a splendid mule you have
there!… Let me feast my eyes on her…. Oh, my dear Pope, she's a
real beauty. I'll warrant the German Emperor doesn't have one like her.
    Then he stroked her, and spoke gently to her as if she were a young
lady:
    —Come here, my jewel, my treasure, my priceless pearl….
    The kind Pope was truly moved and thought to himself:
    —What a fine young boy!… And how kind he is to my mule.
    And the result? The very next day, Tistet Védène exchanged his old
yellow coat for a beautiful lace cassock, a purple silk cape, and
buckled shoes ready for his entry into the Pope's choir school. An
establishment which, previously, had only taken in sons of the nobility
or cardinals' nephews. That's how intrigue was done. But Tistet didn't
stop at that.
    Once he was in the Pope's service, the monkey did exactly the same
tricks he had mastered before. He was insolent to everybody, having
neither time nor consideration for anyone but the mule, and was to be
seen for ever in the palace courtyard with handfuls of oats or bundles
of sainfoin, gently shaking the pink bunches, as he looked at the Holy
Father's balcony, with a look as if to say,
    "Who's this lovely food for, then?" So much so, indeed, that finally
the good Pope, who was beginning to feel his age, decided to leave the
care of looking after the stable and taking the mule her bowl of wine, à la française , to none other than Tistet Védène. This did not amuse
the cardinals.
    * * * * *
    As for the mule; it didn't amuse her at all…. From now on, at the
time for her wine, she would witness five or six clerics from the choir
school, with their lace and capes, get in amongst her straw. Then,
shortly afterwards, a fine warm smell of caramel and aromatic herbs
filled the stable, and Tistet Védène appeared carefully carrying the
bowl of wine à la française . But the mule's agony was only