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Seeing the guest, he stealthily made his way to the farmhouse,

for he could not come out to greet the stranger in a homespun

dressing-gown; there he put on as quickly as he might his Sunday

garment, made ready since early morning, for since morning he had

known that at supper he should sit with a multitude of guests.

The Seneschal recognised the traveller from afar, spread out his

arms, and with a cry embraced and kissed him. Then began a

hurried, confused discourse, in which they were eager to tell the

events of many years in a few brief words, mingled, as the tale

went forward, with queries, exclamations, and new greetings. When

the Seneschal had asked his fill of questions, at the very last

he told the story of that day.