Architecture of Computing Systems ARCS 2020 33rd International Conference Aachen Germany May 25 28 2020 Proceedings André Brinkmann
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André Brinkmann · Wolfgang Karl ·
Stefan Lankes · Sven Tomforde ·
Thilo Pionteck · Carsten Trinitis (Eds.)
Architecture of
LNCS 12155
Computing Systems –
ARCS 2020
33rd International Conference
Aachen, Germany, May 25–28, 2020
Proceedings
Lecture Notes in Computer Science 12155
Founding Editors
Gerhard Goos
Karlsruhe Institute of Technology, Karlsruhe, Germany
Juris Hartmanis
Cornell University, Ithaca, NY, USA
Architecture of
Computing Systems –
ARCS 2020
33rd International Conference
Aachen, Germany, May 25–28, 2020
Proceedings
123
Editors
André Brinkmann Wolfgang Karl
Johannes Gutenberg University of Mainz Karlsruhe Institute of Technology
Mainz, Germany Karlsruhe, Germany
Stefan Lankes Sven Tomforde
RWTH Aachen University Christian-Albrecht University of Kiel
Aachen, Germany Kiel, Germany
Thilo Pionteck Carsten Trinitis
Otto-von-Guericke University Magdeburg Technical University of Munich
Magdeburg, Germany Garching b. München, Germany
This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
Preface
ARCS has a long tradition of hosting associated workshops. The following three
workshops were organized in conjunction with the main conference this year and we
decided to include the accepted papers within the conference proceedings:
– 14th GI/ITG Workshop on Parallel Systems and Algorithms (PASA 2020)
– 6th FORMUS3IC Workshop
– Third Workshop on Computer Architectures in Space (CompSpace 2020)
We thank the many individuals who contributed to ARCS 2020, in particular the
members of the Program Committee and all the additional external reviewers for their
time and effort in carefully reviewing and judging the submissions. We further thank all
authors for submitting their work to ARCS and presenting accepted papers as video
contributions. The workshops were organized and coordinated by Carsten Trinitis, the
proceedings were compiled by Thilo Pionteck, publicity was managed by Lena Oden,
and the website was maintained by Markus Hoffmann. Thanks to all these individuals
and all the many other people who helped in the organization of ARCS 2020.
General Chairs
Stefan Lankes RWTH Aachen University, Germany
Wolfgang Karl Karlsruhe Institute of Technology, Germany
Program Chairs
Sven Tomforde University of Kiel, Germany
André Brinkmann Johannes Gutenberg University Mainz, Germany
Publicity Chair
Lena Oden FernUniversität in Hagen, Germany
Publication Chair
Thilo Pionteck Otto von Guericke University Magdeburg, Germany
Web Chair
Markus Hoffmann Karlsruhe Institute of Technology, Germany
Program Committee
Mladen Berekovic Universität zu Lübeck, Germany
Jürgen Brehm Leibnitz Universität Hannover, Germany
André Brinkmann Johannes Gutenberg University Mainz, Germany
Uwe Brinkschulte Goethe-Universität Frankfurt am Main, Germany
João M.P. Cardoso Universidade do Porto, Portugal
Thomas Carle Institut de Recherche en Informatique de Toulouse,
France
Ahmed El-Mahdy Egypt-Japan University of Science and Technology,
Egypt
Lukas Esterle Aarhus University, Denmark
Dietmar Fey Friedrich-Alexander-Universität Erlangen-Nürnberg,
Germany
Giorgis Georgakoudis Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, USA
viii Organization
Additional Reviewers
Christoph Borchert Osnabrück University, Germany
Peter Brand Friedrich-Alexander-Universität Erlangen-Nürnberg,
Germany
Hugues Cassé Institut de Recherche en Informatique de Toulouse,
France
Boris Dreyer Technische Universität Darmstadt, Germany
Jorge Echavarria Friedrich-Alexander-Universität Erlangen-Nürnberg,
Germany
Farnam Khalili Maybodi University of Siena, Italy
Kevin Kremer Johannes Gutenberg University Mainz, Germany
Leon Li University of California, San Diego, USA
Diogo Marques Universidade de Lisboa, Portugal
Rolf Meyer Universität zu Lübeck, Germany
Nuno Neves INESC-ID Lisboa, Portugal
Elbruz Ozen University of California, San Diego, USA
Marco Procaccini University of Siena, Italy
Oskar Pusz Leibnitz Universität Hannover, Germany
Paul Renaud-Goud Institut de Recherche en Informatique de Toulouse,
France
Amin Sahebi University of Siena, Italy
Frederic Schimmelpfennig Johannes Gutenberg University Mainz, Germany
Ladislav Steffko University of California, San Diego, USA
Ramon Wirsch Technische Universität Darmstadt, Germany
Mahdi Zahedi Delft University of Technology, The Netherlands
Main Concerence
FORMUS3IC Workshop
1 Introduction
Data dependence profiling is an essential step towards deciding on parallelis-
ing loops, especially for heterogeneous parallel platforms, where the cost of re-
engineering originally serial programs is high. However, obtaining the profiles
is generally a costly operation as it requires instrumenting all memory access
instructions; hence it suffers from significant memory consumption and runtime
overhead (i.e., separate records for every accessed memory address). Therefore,
profilers rely on approximation methods, trading-off accuracy with analysis over-
head. One typical method is sampling the execution trace, where only a portion
of the trace is analysed [5,23]. However, sampling is prone to missing some depen-
dence arcs and losing the most recent relationships. Other profilers tackle the
runtime overhead by parallelising runtime analysis [10,17,24].
This paper considers performing a form of abstract analysis for all memory
references over the whole program. The analysis borrows from the well-known
abstract interpretation static analysis method, which is used to generate an
abstract collective program state for all possible execution traces [1,6,18]. Here,
we specialise the method to analyse only one execution trace (profiling trace).
Moreover, we do not perform abstract computations or interpretations over the
abstract state; instead, we rely on the underlying execution system to generate
the current state and use a corresponding abstract operation (Union) to gather
and approximate the state. In other words, the main aim is to generate an
abstract single-trace semantics, from the current execution trace.
The advantage of this approach is that we dramatically reduce the memory
size required for the analysis, as there is no need to have a shadow memory,
which is typical in profilers. Moreover, we only perform pair-wise operations on
the static memory access instructions after gathering their trace state, to identify
data-dependence, thus also significantly reducing profiling time. The trade-off
here is precision or false dependencies, while the sensitivity or true dependencies
are never missed.
In this paper, for each dynamic memory access operation, we use a corre-
sponding abstract operation that joins the current memory access address with
the current abstracted set of seen addresses for the corresponding memory access
instruction, thus generating an abstract single-trace semantic for all static mem-
ory instructions. The abstraction uses a composite abstract domain, consisting
of interval and congruent domains. The former provides an approximation of the
covered range, and the latter provides information about the access pattern. We
partition the memory address space into blocks and associate a value from the
composite domain for each block, to further improve precision.
This paper has the following contributions:
2 Related Work
Li et al. [13] introduce a profiler for the sequential and parallel program based
on LLVM. They tackle the runtime overhead by parallelising the profiler. The
profiler records memory accesses using signatures to achieve efficiency in space,
(as an approximate representation, concept from transactional memory [21])
rather than instrument every memory access. The serial profiler has a 190×
slowdown on average for NAS benchmarks and a 191× slowdown on average
for Starbench programs and consumed memory up to 7.856 GB. By using lock-
free parallel design, the runtime overhead reduces to 78× for NAS and 93× for
Starbench. By using a signature with 100 million slots, the memory consumption
reduces to 649 MB (NAS) and 1390 MB (Starbench), with accuracy less than
0.4% false-positive rate and less than 0.1% false-negative rate.
Chen et al. [5] implement a data dependence profiling tool on top of the Intel’s
Open Research Compiler (ORC) to provide information about the dynamic
behaviour of data dependence in programs, mainly for nested loops.
They study two approximation methods: shadow memory and sampling tech-
niques, as a trade-off to mitigate both space and runtime overhead. The tool
speculatively ignores dependence edges (between the source and the sink) that
have low probability. The threshold value of this low probability can be deter-
mined by the overhead of a data mis-speculation process according to the target
machine. The slowdown ranges from 16% to 167% on SPEC CPU2000 bench-
marks compared to the original execution time by using a sampling rate of 0.0001
to 0.1, respectively, and with a precision ranging from 30% to 10% in missing
dependence edges.
Vanka et al. [23] implement a set-based profiling approach coupled with
software signatures. The key insight is that set-level tracking provides a bet-
ter trade-off between accuracy and performance. At compile time, they identify
the essential dependence relationships according to a specific optimisation (i.e.
speculative code motion) for profiling at runtime. The profiling analysis working
on sets, figuring out set’s relationships dependence, rather than working with
pair-wise dependence relationships. The set-based profiler is implemented as an
IR level pass in LLVM and applied to SPEC2000 benchmarks for presenting
results. They achieved a slowdown 2.97× with the accuracy range from 0.15 and
0.17, measured by normalised average Euclidean distance.
Norouzi et al. [19] implement an extension of DiscoPoP data dependence pro-
filer that uses a hybrid (static and dynamic) approach in reporting the existence
of data dependence in the polyhedral loops. The static dependence analysis part
excludes the detected dependent memory access instructions in the annotated
area by PLUTO (an auto-parallelising compiler for polyhedral loops) and hence
excludes them in the dynamic analysis. Finally, static and dynamic dependencies
are merged in an appropriate way to be used later in suitable parallelisation dis-
covery tools. It is clear that if no polyhedral loops are detected in a program, the
hybrid approach turns into purely dynamic. By conducting experiments on Poly-
bench and NAS Parallel Benchmarks suits, they achieved a median profiling-time
reduction by 62% compared to DiscoPoP profiler framework.
Approximate Data Dependence Profiling 7
Σi = Σi ∪ α({a}) (1)
[max(a, a ), min(b, b )] if max(a, a ) ≤ min(b, b )
[a, b] ∩ [a , b ] = (4)
φ otherwise
lcm{a, a }Z + b if b ≡ b
mod gcd{a, a }
(aZ + b) ∩ (a Z + b ) = (7)
φ otherwise
4 Profiling Framework
4.1 Pin Framework
Pin [14] is a framework for dynamic binary instrumentation framework. Simi-
lar to other frameworks, users can observe the running code, detect intensive
functions and loops, monitor parameters, and modify the code while it runs.
Pin framework provides an API to let users build custom tools called Pintools,
which in turn dynamically instruments the compiled binary files in the user space
application. By inserting an appropriate runtime analysis routine for a kind of
instructions, we can understand the behaviour of a given binary program.
Our profiler inserts instrumentation code dynamically into the binary code
for each memory read/write operation; which is mainly callbacks to the corre-
sponding runtime analysis routines. The profiler can operate on three different
modes. The first one performs conventional profiling, where the second one per-
forms a comprehensive (i.e. pairwise method) profiling. Both the first and second
modes can be considered as a different perspective of ground truth for the under-
lying data dependence, as it provides an exhaustive, accurate data dependence
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that meritorious nation, the French?”
“Surely, Sir Count, your name is your guarantee,” I rejoined. “At least
I have always understood it to be so.”
“In that particular you are doubtless correct, my dear Don Miguel,”
said the Count of Nullepart, “at least that is when I travel in Spain.
But now we are over the French border I rejoice in a better.”
I inquired his further title with some surprise.
“Upon the curious soil of France,” said the Count of Nullepart, “I go
by the name of Señor Fulano or Mr. What-you-will.”
“I protest, Sir Count, I do not understand this matter at all.”
“I pray you seek not to do so, my dear,” said the Count of Nullepart.
“It is only that I choose to have it so as becomes a free born citizen
of the world.”
I could get no further enlightenment from the Count of Nullepart,
and no sooner had we crossed into France than my mystification was
increased. At the inn at the first town we came to, of which I forget
the name, the Count of Nullepart declared solemnly that we must
speak for him on all occasions, for by a singular mischance he had
entirely mislaid the use of the French tongue. And, further, he
assured us that this grave calamity had had the unprecedented
consequence of stimulating in the highest degree the growth of his
chin hairs. Indeed, this growth was so remarkable that even upon
our first day in France he had acquired quite a large beard.
Instead, then, of the gay, sprightly, and handsome Count of
Nullepart, an admired member of the French nobility, with whom we
had come upon our journey from Toledo, we had for a companion
upon French soil one Señor Fulano, a staid, sober, and bearded
citizen, who claimed cousinship with the burgomaster of the town of
El Dorado, a place of which I had never heard the name.
“I protest, Sir Count,” said I, “there is no such place as El Dorado in
the length and breadth of our peninsula.”
This caused the Count of Nullepart and Sir Richard Pendragon a vast
amount of mirth, and I heard the latter declare that even his
preposterous horse Melanto was chuckling furiously.
“The truth is, good Master Fulano,” said the Englishman, “these
youthful Spaniardoes have so little fantasy as a trussed fowl.
Personally I ascribe their heaviness to the dryness of their climate
and the rough quality of their wines.”
“That is the root of the matter, doubtless,” said the Count of
Nullepart in a most execrable and rustic Spanish which you would
think a gentleman would be careful not to use.
Be this as it may, from the moment we crossed into France, and
during the whole time of our sojourn in that unprofitable country,
the Count of Nullepart, or Señor Fulano as he would have us call
him, had no French at all. Whenever he had occasion to speak he
used Spanish of a most rustic and barbarous sort.
Much as I disliked the country of France, I disliked the people, their
cookery, their manner of speaking, and their extremely foreign ways
even more. As I had small skill in their language, and the Count of
Nullepart had so mysteriously laid aside that which he could claim,
we had greatly to depend upon Sir Richard Pendragon’s knowledge
and adroitness for the least of our necessities. And to allow a due to
the devil—as my countrymen express it—it must be said that the
well-being of three travellers in a foreign country could not have
been in worthier hands.
Sir Richard Pendragon’s use of the French tongue, which I doubt not
to polite ears must have been as unseemly as his use of Castilian,
was so vigorous and his eyes rolled so freely, the name of God and
his Evil Adversary were so constantly upon his lips, and his hand was
so seldom off the hilt of his sword, that the French innkeepers vied
with each other in doing his behests, almost before he had been put
to the inconvenience of making them known. I cannot remember—
although on several occasions he has informed me of the number—
how many temporal kings of whom Sir Richard Pendragon claimed
kinship and acquaintancy, but at least he wore their manners in such
wise as to know how to be obeyed. Full many an innkeeper have I
seen turn pale at his utterance of the word “Sapristi!” And so
surprised were some of them to find themselves alive by the time he
quitted their houses that they forgot to ask him for the score, or
perhaps it was that they feared to do so. At least I know that in
several instances they must have gone unpaid had not the Señor
Fulano thrown them a silver dollar.
I had no favourable impression of this country of France. I suppose
it is a pleasant country; at least I have met those who allow it to be
so; but to the eye of a true Iberian it seemed to lack colour,
politeness, and originality. Besides, as soon as we came to the first
place out of Spain, of which, as I have said, I forget the name, it
came on to rain; and during the whole time we were in this
unfortunate land, which could not have been less than thirty days, it
continued to do so. I know not whether the inhabitants of the
country subsist upon frogs, as was said of them by Sir Richard
Pendragon, but if he spoke truly it was doubtless in obedience to the
dispensation of the good God, for their favourite food was
continually to be seen swimming in the pools that lay in the middle
of their roads.
I suppose it was about the thirty-sixth day of our long and arduous
journey that we came into Paris. It was nightfall when we reached
the capital of madam’s nephew, the famous King Louis. It had been
raining all that day, and the day before that, and it was still raining,
and we were covered with mud as high as our cheek bones. Our
cloaks were soaked through and through and were running over
with water. Further we were hungry and fatigued and in a
desperately evil humour; yet instead of entering the first inn we
came to within the precincts of the city, Sir Richard Pendragon would
have us repair to the auberge of the Compas d’Or, hard by to what is
called the Sorbonne, which Sir Richard pronounced “Sawbones” and
said was the same that in London was called the College of
Surgeons.
This auberge of the Compas d’Or—I have no curiosity to learn what
the name would mean in pure Castilian, but they would tell you
perhaps at Salamanca—was, according to Sir Richard Pendragon, the
best inn at Paris. Indeed, it was a trait I had observed in him that no
matter how hungry or weary or out of humour he might be,
whenever he came to a town or city where there was more than one
inn from which to choose, and some places through which we
passed kept quite a number, he would select the one which had the
best food, the best wine, the best corner in which to sup, and the
best chamber in which to sleep. It was due, he said, to the blood of
kings that its board and bed should be princely.
Thus when we came in this pouring wet night to the auberge of the
Compas d’Or, and we had seen to it that our honest horses were
cared for worthily by the ostlers of this great inn, we entered a large
and comfortable room. And no sooner had we made our appearance
in it than Sir Richard Pendragon’s mode of address occasioned some
surprise to the company we found there.
CHAPTER XXIV
OF SIR RICHARD PENDRAGON’S PASSAGES
WITH THE GENTLEMEN OF THE KING’S GUARD
The large room was half full of a distinguished company. Many of the
persons there assembled wore a handsome and imposing livery;
others wore an equally handsome and imposing garb of peace.
These gentlemen were engaged in playing at the cards and throwing
the dice, and all were men whose air was lofty. Immediately we had
come into their midst, the proprietor of the auberge—I can see him
at this moment, a little round fellow with a great belly—came
forward half nervously, half uncivilly, crying that we must withdraw
at once, as the apartment was reserved for the gentlemen and the
friends of the gentlemen of the King’s guard.
“Oho!” said Sir Richard Pendragon, in a voice that rose like a
trumpet, “these honest Parley-voos will not look askance on the
hereditary overlord of the Russ, his court chamberlain, and his
second minister. Do you assure them, good Beer-barrel, with our
compliments, that they will find us pleasant good fellows when we
have dried our doublets; but for this present we are cold and
fatigued and most infernally hungry.”
I know not whether the manner of this address, the matter of which
was communicated to me at my own request by the Count of
Nullepart, was an offence to the proud feelings of the gentlemen of
the King’s Guard, but one and all turned glances upon us of the
greatest amazement and austerity.
Sir Richard Pendragon, however, paid them not the slightest heed.
Observing a vacant chair beside a small table, he flung himself into
it, and ordered the keeper of the auberge, in the voice he was
accustomed to use to persons of that condition, to bring us wine and
victual.
“But, sir,” said the innkeeper—I am indebted to my worshipful friend
the Count of Nullepart for all that follows—“you and your friends
cannot remain in this apartment. As I have informed you already, it
is only for the use of the gentlemen and the friends of the
gentlemen of the King’s Guard.”
“Well, you French monkey,” said the English giant, rolling his eyes
fearfully, “you may choose for yourself. Either you obey me this
minute, or, as I am a Christian gentleman, I will cut off your ears.”
Swearing an oath that blenched the cheek of the innkeeper, and
scowling with the ferocity that never failed to cow all of this kidney,
Sir Richard Pendragon drew his sword with a flourish, made a
magnificent pass at the air, and stuck it at one pace from him in the
wooden floor.
I think I have never seen more amazement in the human
countenance than this action excited in all who witnessed it. At first
the onlookers seemed unwilling to believe their eyes. That any
human being should enter their presence and thus bear himself was
a thing they could not grasp. And then, when they came to realize
that the Englishman regarded their presence no more than he did
that of the innkeeper, a kind of pitying contempt came into their
faces.
Nevertheless, some little time went by ere they addressed Sir
Richard Pendragon. Conversing together in low tones, they appeared
to wait upon the good pleasure of one among them. Then they
called the landlord, who stood awaiting their commands, and gave
him certain instructions.
Upon receipt of these the keeper of the auberge approached Sir
Richard Pendragon, yet with a good deal of wariness, and said,
“Monsieur, I am instructed by the gentlemen of the King’s Guard to
inform you that, whoever you may be, your behaviour is intolerable.
But as you and your companions are clearly of a foreign nation, they
are loth to admonish you. Yet I am to inform you that if you do not
immediately put up your sword and withdraw from this apartment,
you will compel them to visit you according to your merit.”
Now, although the keeper of the auberge, having both right and
might at his elbow, had spoken with a well-considered civility which
is rare in his class, and the words that he had been instructed to use
were those of an admirable moderation, which in the circumstances
did honour to his patrons, they were not accepted by Sir Richard
Pendragon in a spirit of forbearance.
“Do you presume to outface a Pendragon, you French dog?” he
roared. “For a pint of sherris I would pull your neck.”
Speaking thus, the Englishman took up a cup half full of the wine
that was near to him, and flung it full at the head of the innkeeper.
In spite, however, of this new affront to their ambassador, the
gentlemen of the King’s Guard showed no disposition to hurry their
measures. Again they conversed among themselves; and then a
thin, tall man, with a visage exceeding melancholy, not, however, in
the king’s livery, yet attired in a dress of sober richness, rose slowly
from the table at which he had been playing at the cards. There was
something of majesty in his movements, and as he approached the
Count of Nullepart and myself with a cold air, his mien was worthy of
a cardinal.
“I would speak with you, my friends,” he said in a deep and musical
voice, yet the tone was such as he would have used to his lackeys.
The Count of Nullepart shook his head solemnly, as though he
understood not a word, and said in a rude Spanish, “I have not your
language, Señor Soldado.”
I had to make a similar confession, but, as I hope, in a purer idiom.
“Muy bien,” said this distinguished French gentleman, speaking in a
very tolerable Spanish that put the Count of Nullepart’s to shame
and compared not unfavourably with my own, “Very well, my
friends, a word in your ears. Your conduct is worthy of the highest
censure, but the gentlemen of the King’s Guard are not accustomed
to turn their hands against the canaille. All the same, they pray you
to have a care.”
Thus having spoken with a degree of insolent contempt that few
could have equalled, this Frenchman, and I am sure among his own
nation he must have taken rank as a great lord, turned his back
upon us with a high degree of disdain, and proceeded to regard Sir
Richard Pendragon. The English giant met him with a sleepy
indifference. Thereupon the Frenchman lowered his gaze to an
amused contempt, and withdrew Sir Richard Pendragon’s sword from
the floor.
After examining this weapon with a care that was only half curious
he gave his shoulders a shrug, after the foreign manner, and then
presented it to the Englishman by the hilt, saying, “Put up your
butter-cutter, Monsieur l’Epicier, and when you return into your
peninsula give an additional alms to the Virgin that you find yourself
with as whole a skin as that with which you went.”
Being addressed in this fashion, an odd change fell upon the
Englishman. As in the affair in the inn at Madrid, a kind of sinister
softness overtook him. Immediately he abated his voice into a
modest and humble accent which was quite unlike his previous
immoderation.
“I thank you, good Frenchman, for my poor tuck. It is an ancient
arm, I might say an heirloom; yet once on a day it held the rank of a
sword. At least, in that capacity was it given to an elderly forebear
by Edward the Black Prince, who in his day did some pretty work
among the French. And now, as you say, although it is an old thing,
it still serves to cut butter.”
Thereupon, in the presence of the whole room, which had
suspended its affairs entirely, Sir Richard Pendragon quietly laid the
flat part of the sword against one side of the Frenchman’s cheek and
then against the other.
CHAPTER XXV
OF SIR RICHARD PENDRAGON’S DUELLO
WITH THE GALLANT FRENCHMAN
At noon the next day we set out upon our embassy to the King of
France. However, before so doing, at the instance of Sir Richard
Pendragon we repaired to a furrier’s shop in a little narrow street
behind the church called Notre Dame, which the Count of Nullepart
informed us was the first in the city. Here we purchased three
baldricks of an extraordinary brilliancy, trimmed with ermine.
To our surprise, Sir Richard Pendragon disbursed the sum necessary
to this magnificence, for his winnings of the previous night had been
considerable. Besides, as he declared, it was due to our mistress
“that the plenipotentiary-extraordinaire of the young queen’s majesty
should appear at Paris like a man of condition, and that the retinue
by whom he was accompanied should appear in the same guise,
because they had worldly minds at the French court, and it would be
easier to conduct state business if they went upon terms of
familiarity with the current mode.”
To this piece of wisdom the Count of Nullepart assented laughingly.
And when our leader came to put on his baldrick this mirth bubbled
up to a point, for Sir Richard Pendragon was fain to add to it a pair
of new shoes with large silver buckles and a handsome collar of lace.
I confess that in this I approved of the Englishman’s conduct. And I
think we both felt the Count of Nullepart’s laughter to be somewhat
ill judged and out of place. Because in a city like Paris, which in the
light of day is not unpleasing, and among such a people as the
French, whom travellers allow to have a savour of the civilized arts,
we deemed that a certain richness among men of birth was not only
expedient but necessary.
Therefore I put on my new baldrick trimmed with ermine, also my
new shoes with silver buckles and my fine collar of lace which also
had been given to us. And let me tell you, reader, that never in my
life have I felt myself to be attired more worthily, a little the plain
side of splendour. Even then I felt that I did not compare with the
leader of our embassy, who, as he said, “to remove any lingering
traces of the provinces,” added to the bedizenments of his person a
number of jewels which his good fortune of the previous night
enabled him to obtain; and, further, as a crown to the whole, a sort
of jewelled cockado that is worn by the potentates of Eastern climes.
To obtain a field for the display of our magnificence, of which I
believe the three of us were proudly and justly conscious, we
proceeded slowly, arm-in-arm, down the centre of the streets of
Paris; and of almost every second person that passed us Sir Richard
Pendragon inquired in a haughty voice of the way to the palace of
the King of France.
I suppose it was our high and martial looks in company of our
resplendent attire—I may say that Sir Richard Pendragon had chosen
scarlet for the colour of our baldricks, that they might contrast
elegantly with the bright yellow of his own—that soon began to
attract the notice of the Parisians. Ere long a number of these
curious persons were following in our wake. By the time we had
traversed the length of two streets something of a crowd had
collected upon our heels; and this circumstance appeared to afford
Sir Richard Pendragon a great deal of pleasure.
“These good souls can see we are on the way to King Lewie,” said
he. “I am perfectly sure they mistake me for the Emperor
Maximilian, although I have five inches the better of my old crony in
the matter of perpendicularity, and at least six in the matter of
circumference. Still they cannot be expected to be informed of it.
And prithee, good Don Miguel Jesus Maria de Sarda y Boegas, do
you observe how all eyes are for my Persian cockado? I doubt not it
looks very brave with court livery; and it will afford me not the least
surprise if King Lewie, who is a good fellow, comes to adopt it at the
court of France.”
Just as the English giant had concluded this speech, a little old
woman came up behind him and plucked him eagerly by the cloak.
“Good Master Tumbler,” said she, “if you will stand on your head I
will give you a groat; and if you will swallow your sword you shall
have a new franc piece.”
Sir Richard Pendragon plucked his cloak away fiercely from the old
creature and walked on with his head in the air, as though he had
not heard her. During the next moment, however, an unmannerly
urchin had thrown a cake of mud at the Persian cockado.
By the time we had come to the gates of the Louvre, the press was
so great that it had become difficult to proceed in it. Indeed,
according to the Count of Nullepart’s computation, and he seemed to
derive much pleasure from assessing it, it could not have been less
than a thousand persons.
To the astonishment of our leader, when we came before the gates
of the palace, the soldiers of the King’s Guard, who kept the royal
entrance, declined to allow us to pass. And when Sir Richard
Pendragon threatened peremptorily to cut off the ears of their
captain, the prospect of our gaining admittance did not seem to
improve. For some reason, which I cannot explain, the attitude of
the King’s Guard seemed greatly to please the mob that was
pressing around us.
Sir Richard Pendragon was fain to produce the cartel of our mistress
duly sealed and inscribed: “To Lewis Our Nephew in His Court at
Paris, by the hands of Our Good Servants.” Yet even this document
went without effect, if only for the reason, as the Count of Nullepart
assured us, that the captain of the King’s Guard was unable so much
as to decipher the superscription.
In the next minute there was almost a riot in the open street. The
English giant, seeming to detect cries of derision arising about him,
turned to the ever-increasing multitude and observing a low fellow
that was near him in the act of making an insulting grimace, he
made no more to do, but lifted him up bodily, and flung him like a
sack of flour upon the heads of the people.
Upon this, mud and stones began to fly past us. And a missile
having struck Sir Richard Pendragon upon the cheek, he drew his
sword and began to lay about him lustily with the flat of it.
Our situation was now one of great peril. Three persons, whatever
their valour, were powerless to defend themselves from a press of
this magnitude. I incline to think our fate would have been a sorry
one had not the mother-wit of the Count of Nullepart arranged our
deliverance. While the mob were surging angrily around us and
stones were flying about our ears, our companion spoke some words
in a low voice to the captain of the King’s Guard, and this time he
used the French tongue. The effect was like magic. The captain
instantly removed his plumed hat, and bowing very low, led us
through the gate and into the precincts of the palace, leaving his
company to deal in what sort it suited them with a mob that by now
was in no gentle humour.
Once within the walls of the palace, the Count of Nullepart dismissed
the King’s officer with a word of thanks; and then, under the count’s
own direction, we entered an exceeding large antechamber, which
was thronged with as fine a company as I have ever beheld. There
were priests of high learning and dignity, wearing their soutanes;
there were soldiers in bright doublets and shining armour; there
were austere and sombre-coated ministers; there were gay and
handsome courtiers in very modish and brilliant attire; and beyond
all else there was a number of beautiful ladies.
This fine company was talking very loudly and laughing very gaily at
the time we came into the room. But our entrance being a public
one, mainly owing to the manner in which Sir Richard Pendragon
clanked his spurs on the marble floor and the great voice in which
he conversed with the Count of Nullepart, the attention of all present
was immediately drawn upon us. Now I know not whether it was
due to the magnificence of our apparel or the pride of our bearing,
yet the lively talk and the gay mirth subsided in the most sudden
manner. Each person in the room seemed to turn to regard us with a
wonderment that scorned disguise; and then the silence was broken
by a titter from one of the fine ladies.
The court gallants who surrounded them were not slow to follow
their example.
The leader of our embassy, however, was not disconcerted in the
least by this public rudeness. Sir Richard Pendragon stroked his chin
with a disdain that appeared to amuse these courtiers the more; and
then, turning at his leisure to the richly attired gallant that was
nearest to him, he said in a voice like thunder, “Hi, you, sirrah, you
with a face like a monkey, do you go to the King your master, and do
you inform him that an embassy is come from Spain upon an affair
of delicacy.”
The youthful courtier placed his jewelled fingers on the hilt of his
sword. His unseasonable mirth was now changed to a look of
ferocious anger.
“Do you hear me, good jackanapes?” said the English giant in his
great insolent voice that surmounted everything and re-echoed to
the high ceiling upon which was a painting of Venus and Cupid.
“Mon Dieu!” cried the courtier, livid with passion, “I have a mind to
run you through the body, you canary-coloured barbarian!”
“A mind, did you say, good jackanapes?” said the Englishman, with a
roar of laughter. “Why, a thousand such poor dogs could not muster
a mind among you.”
By now all the persons in the room were gathered around us. The
grave among them were amazed; the young, and particularly those
that were female, shaken with mirth; and the rest in all degrees of
anger, incredulity, excitement, and a desire for diversion. Yet so
sorely incensed was this youthful gallant that I verily believe, the
place and the company notwithstanding, he would have been moved
to an act of open violence to avenge the insult that had been set
upon him, had there not stepped forth from the throng one who
bore every mark of dignity and high consideration.
“I ask your pardon, Monsieur Ambassador,” said he with a courtesy
that was very grave, “but if it is your desire to have an audience of
his majesty the King, will you have the good kindness to accompany
me into another room.”
“I am at your service, mounseer,” said the Englishman. “I will go
with you willingly. It will give one who carries the blood of kings
under his doublet a great deal of pleasure to escape out of this
kennel in which his cousin of France keeps his puppy dogs.”
Speaking thus, our leader threw a glance around him of great
effrontery, which ministered further to the amazement of those who
were present. He then followed this high officer of the court into
another room. The Count of Nullepart and myself accompanied him.
Here we found ourselves alone, which, considering Sir Richard
Pendragon’s present humour, I cannot help thinking was a fortunate
circumstance. The chamberlain withdrew in order to convey our
business to his royal master. No sooner had he done so than the
Count of Nullepart broke forth into an outburst of inextinguishable
laughter.
Sir Richard Pendragon viewed the Count of Nullepart’s demeanour
with a grave disdain. Further, he assured me privily, that “a man’s
nation could not hide itself when his foot was on his native soil.
Mounseer Nullepart was a good fellow enough, but there was no
mistaking his nationality.”
In so far as the Englishman deplored the Count of Nullepart’s levity I
was in accord with him. Yet, for my own part, having the sangre azul
of Spain in my veins, which is apt to insist that a courtly bearing is
beyond all things essential to him who would converse with the
great of the earth, I could not help but regret the manner in which
our leader had invaded the palace of the most Christian prince.
As we remained thus to await an audience of the King of France, I
began to fear dreadfully lest the leader of our embassy should
mislay his manners before the Sovereign. The walls of the room
were covered by mirrors; and as Sir Richard Pendragon stood before
each of them in turn, preening himself like a bird of bright plumage,
now with his bonnet on his head to judge the appearance of his
Persian cockado, now with it off to see how he seemed without it, I
grew sensible of a concern for the affronts our singular leader was
like to put upon the Father of his People.
Six times Sir Richard Pendragon put his bonnet on before the
mirrors, and six times he took it off again. He then sighed deeply,
and said, “Prithee, good Miguel, in how far would you consider that
Spain is a civilized nation?”
“Good Sir Richard Pendragon,” I said, “surely your question asks not
an answer. From the time of the Cid, as all the world knows, Spain
has been the most civilized country on the face of the earth.”
“I understand that perfectly, good Don,” said Sir Richard Pendragon.
“But making abatement for your native peninsularity, which in its
due place and season is commendable, I would ask you whether, in
my capacity of plenipotentiary-extraordinaire to a Spanish princess, I
might come before the King of France wearing my bonnet, because I
find this Persian cockado sets off my countenance in a very proper,
majestical, modish, yet not foppish manner.”
“Good Sir Richard Pendragon,” answered I, “I do conceive that one
who has the sangre azul of Spain in his veins may be allowed to
answer your question judicially. Nothing could less beseem a
representative of Spanish nobility than that wearing his bonnet he
should enter the presence of a Christian sovereign.”
This opinion caused Sir Richard’s face to fall.
“It could be done by the ambassador of the Ottoman Empire,” said
he, “and the Turks are religious-men. The representatives of
Morocco could do it also, and the Moors are a very ancient people.
And of course at Teheran it is the mode. And if this Louis, this frog-
eating French fellow, were mine old gossip Maximilian, whose
kingdom is four times the size of France, the thing could be done so
easily as you might count nine.”
“Good Sir Richard Pendragon,” I said gravely, “this act which you
contemplate would be a blot upon the fair fame of Spain, of which
these many years we have been so jealous.”
Now I think my demeanour must have convinced Sir Richard
Pendragon that my opinion was a just one, had not the Count of
Nullepart, who had laid aside his mirth to listen to our conversation,
interposed an opinion of his own. And that opinion, as I grieve to
inform the gentle reader, was far from agreeing with the one I
myself had given.
“Good Sir Richard Pendragon,” said the Count of Nullepart in his
most subtle and melodious accent, “it seems to my mind that these
parallels you have been learned enough to adduce from
Constantinople, Tangier, Teheran, and other centres of light are
extremely pregnant to this embassy. If the measure of civilization in
such places—and as you say, in those countries religion is not
unknown—would permit the diplomatic body to appear bonneted à
la Persie before a crowned Christian prince, it seems to me that you
have furnished the clearest reason why you should conform to their
usage.”
“You speak well, mounseer, you speak well,” said Sir Richard
Pendragon with a complacent air.
“My good friends,” said I, “I deplore the fact that these are not my
views. Let me assure you that the act you contemplate would be far
from the dignity of Spain.”
The Count of Nullepart, observing that I was exercised upon the
subject, was good enough to make a proviso.
“Perchance, good Sir Richard,” said he, “there is one formality we
should observe if we would enter the presence of majesty bonneted
à la Persie. We owe it to the dignity of France, I think, that we follow
the practice of Mohammedan countries. If we wear our bonnets, it
seems to me that we must remove our shoes.”
To this proposal Sir Richard Pendragon seemed loth to assent. The
Count of Nullepart, with great courtesy, appealed to my judgment.
Now I, although extremely reluctant to appear in my bonnet before
a great Christian sovereign, yet felt that if such a course was
imperative, the Count of Nullepart’s suggestion came from a quarter
where breeding was admired. So familiar was he with the temper of
courts, and so firmly did he adhere to the opinion that the removal
of our shoes was necessary if the leader of our embassy was
determined to wear his bonnet, that I gave my sanction to this
proposal. But it was not until we had had further controversy upon
the subject that Sir Richard Pendragon, still declining to remove his
bonnet, at last consented to take off his shoes.
“Perhaps,” said he, as he reluctantly removed them, “it will give
France a better notion of our breeding.”
However, when he had discarded them and he came to survey their
buckles, he grew discomposed in his mind. He had purchased them
expressly that morning, and very handsome and imposing did they
look.
“By my good soul,” he said, “I am not at all clear that silver buckles
do not make a better appearance than Persian cockadoes in the
palaces of the West.”
“It is a mere matter of taste, my dear Sir Richard,” said the Count of
Nullepart, smiling.
Yet the count had already followed the example of his leader, having
put on his bonnet and having doffed his shoes. I also had deemed it
necessary to do the same.
Therefore, when the grave French nobleman presently returned to
say that the most Christian King would see us in audience, he found
us seated in somewhat remarkable case.
CHAPTER XXVII
OF OUR AUDIENCE OF THE MOST CHRISTIAN
KING