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During the time when knights courteously offered to each other both help and assistance in seeking their fortune, it happened that in Sicily–which, as you are probably aware, is an island situated in the corner of the Mediterranean Sea, and formerly celebrated–one knight met in a wood another knight, who had the appearance of a Frenchman. Presumably, this Frenchman was by some chance stripped of everything, and was so wretchedly attired that but for his princely air he might have been taken for a blackguard. It was possible that his horse had died of hunger or fatigue, on disembarking from the foreign shore for which he came, on the faith of the good luck which happened to the French in Sicily, which was true in every respect.

The Sicilian knight, whose name was Pezare, was a Venetian long absent from the Venetian Republic, and with no desire to return there, since he had obtained a footing in the Court of the King of Sicily. Being short of funds in Venice, because he was a younger son, he had no fancy for commerce, and was for that reason eventually abandoned by his family, a most illustrious one. He therefore remained at this Court, where he was much liked by the king.

This gentleman was riding a splendid Spanish horse, and thinking to himself how lonely he was in this strange court, without trusty friends, and how in such cases fortune was harsh to helpless people and became a traitress, when he met the poor French knight, who appeared far worse off that he, who had good weapons, a fine horse, and a mansion where servants were then preparing a sumptuous supper.

“You must have come a long way to have so much dust on your feet,” said the Venetian.

“My feet have not as much dust as the road was long,” answered the Frenchman.

“If you have travelled so much,” continued the Venetian, “you must be a learned man.”

“I have learned,” replied the Frenchman, “to give no heed to those who do not trouble about me. I have learnt that however high a man’s head was, his feet were always level with my own; more than that, I have learnt to have no confidence in the warm days of winter, in the sleep of my enemies, or the words of my friends.”

“You are, then, richer than I am,” said the Venetian, astonished, “since you tell me things of which I never thought.”

“Everyone must think for himself,” said the Frenchman; “and as you have interrogated me, I can request from you the kindness of pointing to me the road to Palermo or some inn, for the night is closing in.”

“Are you then, acquainted with no French or Sicilian gentlemen at Palermo?”

“No.”

“Then you are not certain of being received?”

“I am disposed to forgive those who reject me. The road, sir, if you please.”

“I am lost like yourself,” said the Venetian. “Let us look for it in company.”

“To do that we must go together; but you are on horseback, I am on foot.”

The Venetian took the French knight on his saddle behind him, and said–

“Do you know with whom you are?”

“With a man, apparently.”

“Do you think you are in safety?”

“If you were a robber, you would have to take care of yourself,” said the Frenchman, putting the point of his dagger to the Venetian’s heart.

“Well, now, my noble Frenchman, you appear to be a man of great learning and sound sense; know that I am a noble, established at the Court of Sicily, but alone, and I seek a friend. You seem to be in the same plight, and, judging from appearances, you do not seem friendly with your lot, and have apparently need of everybody.”

“Should I be happier if everybody wanted me?”

“You are a devil, who turns every one of my words against me. By St. Mark! my lord knight, can one trust you?”