land’s companions had so insignificant and unsuspicious an appearance, that they did not even deign to catalogue these magic treasures. The valuable napkin only served the unconscious secretary of justice as a cloth with which to wipe up the black stream from an overthrown inkstand; the miraculous thumb stall,—the noble vehicle of invisibility,—and the rich-making copper penny, were thrown aside as useless rubbish. What became of the fair Urraca, in the dismal cloister in which she was immured, if she was sentenced to a life-long penitence, or has ever again seen the light of day, as well as if the three magic secrets were destroyed by mould, rust, and decay, or were snatched by some fortunate hand from the rubbish and heaps of sweepings to which all the goods of the earth fall for preservation, on this subject the old legend preserves a profound silence. Fate ought properly to have caused the fruitful napkin, or the augmenting penny to fall into the hands of a starving virtuous man, languishing with a ravenous family on the profits of his hard labour, and having only tears when the young ravens cried for bread. And the gift of invisibility might well have been the portion of a pining grieving lover, whose maiden a father’s tyranny, or a mother’s despotism, had shut up in some strong castle, that he might deliver his beloved from her strait confinement, and unite himself inseparably with her. But such things, in the common course of this lower world, are not always to be expected.
After the loss of all the gifts of the generous Mother Druid, the plundered owners quietly departed from Astorga. Amarin, who, without his table-napkin, could not properly fill the office of head master of the kitchen, was the first to depart; Andiol followed him on foot. Since the great facility of acquiring his money had taught him the usual aversion to work of rich gluttons, he was too lazy to turn his penny in proportion to his expenses, but lived on credit, and was accustomed only to fill his coffers when the weather was bad, or when he had no party of pleasure. Now he was without the means of satisfying his creditors. He, however, changed his dress without delay, and disappeared from their sight. As soon as Sarron awoke from his death-like sleep, and perceived that he had ceased to play the Fairy King, he crept home despondingly, collected his old equipments, and took immediately the first straight road to the gate.
Chance so contrived it, that all Roland’s squires again met in the high-road to Castile. Instead of annoying each other with useless reproaches, which could now in no wise better their condition, they bore their lot with resignation. Its similarity, and the unexpected meeting, immediately revived the old bond of companionship; and the wise Sarron made the remark, that the lot of friendship falls only to the golden mean, and is with difficulty united with great talents, or fortune.
