'"By my faith, no."'
'"How, then, do you fly so fast?"
'Said Orthon, "That does not concern you."
'"No," he replied; "but I would gladly see of what form you are."
'Said Orthon, "My form does not concern you. Content you with what I tell you and that my news is true."
'"Now, as I live," cried the Sieur de Corasse, "I should love you better if I had but seen you."
'Said Orthon, "Since you have such burning desire to see me, the first thing you behold to-morrow morning on getting out of bed will be I."
'"It is enough," answered the Sieur de Corasse. "Go. I take leave of you for this night."
'"When the day dawned, the Sieur de Corasse arose from his bed, but his wife was filled with such dread of meeting Orthon that she feigned to be ill, and protested she would lie abed all day; for she said, "Suppose I were to see him?"
'"Now," cried the Sieur de Corasse, "see what I do," and he jumped from his bed and sat upon the edge, and looked about for Orthon; but he saw nothing. Then he threw back the windows so that he could note more clearly all that was in the room, but again he saw nought of which he could say, "That is Orthon."
'The day passed and night came. Hardly had the Sieur de Corasse climbed up into his bed than Orthon arrived, and began to talk to him, as his custom was.
'"Go to, go to," said the Sieur de Corasse; "you are but a bungler. You promised to show yourself to me yesterday, and you never appeared."
'"Never appeared," said he. "But I did, by my faith."
'"You did not."
'"And did you see nothing," said Orthon, "when you leapt from your bed? "
'The Sieur de Corasse thought for a little; then he answered. "Yes," he replied; "as I was sitting on my bed and thinking of you, I noticed two long straws on the floor twisting about and playing together."
'"That was I," said Orthon. "That was the form I had taken upon me."
'Said the Sieur de Corasse: "That is not enough. You must take another form, so that I may see you and know you."
'"You ask so much that I shall become weary of you
