Roland
pursued his way with bowed head, as though stricken by the rebuff.
Nearing the bridge, he saw a crowd around an empty cart, standing by
which a man in rough clothing was cursing most vociferously.
At first he thought there had been an accident, but most of the people
were laughing loudly; so, halting in the outskirts, he asked the cause
of the commotion.
"'Tis but a fool farmer," said a man, "who came from the country with
his load of vegetables. 'Tis safer to enter a lion's den unarmed than to
come into Frankfort with food while people are starving. He has been
plundered to the last leaf."
Roland shouldered his way through the crowd, and touched the frantic man
on the shoulder.
"What was the value of your load?" he said.
"A misbegotten liar told me this morning that a market had opened in
Frankfort, and that there was money to be had. No sooner am I in the
town than everything I brought in is stolen."
"Yes, yes; I know all about that. My question is, How much is your
merchandise worth?"
"Worth? Thirty thalers I expected to get, and now--"
"Thirty thalers," interrupted the Prince.
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