and of the keeper to the stone
floor. The massive body swayed on the small stool; his eyes stupidly
shut and opened.

"Swine of Epicurus," he repeated. "Swine--" and followed the bottle,
rolling gently from the stool. He made but one motion, to extend his
huge bulk more comfortably, and then was still.

"Why," thought the fool, "if Jacqueline fails me not, all may yet be
well."

But even as he thus reflected the door of the cell opened, and a face
white as a lily, looked in. Her glance passed hastily to the
motionless figure and an expression of satisfaction crossed her
features.

"The keys!" she said, and the jester, bending over the prostrate
jailer, detached them from his girdle.

"Lock the door when we leave," she continued. "The other keeper does
not come to relieve him for six hours."

"It would be an offset for the many times he has locked me in,"
answered the fool. "A scurvy trick; yet, as Master Rabelais says,
Pantagruelians select not their bed."

"Is this a time for jesting?" exclaimed the girl, impatiently.

"He has been treating me to Gargantuan discourse, Jacqueline," said the
fool, humbly. "I was but answering him in kind."

"And by delay increasing our danger!"

"Our danger!" He started.

Since she had first broached the subject of escape but one sweet and
all-absorbing idea had possessed him--retaliation. Liberty was the
means to that end, and every other thought and consideration had given
way to this desire. He had fallen asleep with the free baron's dark
features imaged on his fevered brain; when he had awakened the morbid
fantasy had not left him. But now, at her words, in her presence, a
new light was suddenly shed upon the enterprise, and he paused
abruptly, even as he turned to leave the cell. With growing wonder she
watched his altered features.

"Well," she exclaimed, impatiently, "why do you stand there?"

"Should I escape, you, Jacqueline, would remain to bear the brunt," he
said, reflectively. "The jailer, when he awakes, will tell the story:
who brought the wine; who succored the prisoner. To go, but one course
is open." And he glanced down upon the prostrate man. "To silence him
forever!"

She started and half-shrank from him. "Could you do it?"

He shook his head. "In fair contest, I would have slain him. But
now--it is not he, but I, who am helpless. And yet what is such a
sot's life worth? Nothing. Everything. Farewell, sweet jestress; I
must t