He hurried along, as briskly as he could, during several hours, keeping a nervous watch over his shoulder for pursuit; but his fears left him at last, and a grateful sense of security took their place.

He recognised, now, that he was hungry, and also very tired.

So he halted at a farmhouse; but when he was about to speak, he was cut short and driven rudely away.

His clothes were against him.
He wandered on, wounded and indignant, and was resolved to put himself in the way of like treatment no more.

But hunger is pride's master; so, as the evening drew near, he made an attempt at another farmhouse; but here he fared worse than before; for he was called hard names and was promised arrest as a vagrant except he moved on promptly.
The night came on, chilly and overcast; and still the footsore monarch laboured slowly on.