since he governs his own home so ill; and
Villot, admiral of the fleet, that he might sail away and leave his
pretty wife behind him."

"I'll warrant me the story is known to the entire court ere this,"
laughed the lady. "Won't Madame d'Etaille be in a temper! And the
admiral when he hears of it--on the high seas! The king was
eavesdropping, you say, and yet spared the jester? He must bear a
charmed life."

"He dubbed himself the duke's gift, Madam, and boldly claimed privilege
under the poor cloak of hospitality."

"Surely," murmured the princess, "there will be no lack of entertainment
with this knave under the same roof. Too much entertainment, I fear me.
Well, admit the bold fellow."

Crossing to the door, the maid pushed it back and the figure of the
jester passed the threshold:--a figure so graceful and well-built, the
lady's eyes, turning toward him with mild inquiry, lingered with
approval; lingered, and were upraised to a fair, handsome face, when
approval gave way to wonder.

Was this the imprudent, hot-brained rogue who had swaggered in Fools'
hall, and made a farce of the affairs of the nation? His countenance
seemed that of a courtier rather than a low-born scape-grace; his bearing
in consonance, as, approaching the princess, he knelt near the edge of
her sweeping crimson garment. Quietly the maid withdrew to a corner of
the apartment where she seated herself on a low stool, her fingers idly
playing with the delicate carvings of a vase of silver, containing water
that had been blessed and standing conveniently near the aspersorium.

"You come from the Duke of Friedwald, fool?" said the mistress,
recovering from her surprise.

"Yes, Princess."

Louise smiled, and looked toward the maid as if to say: "Why, he's a
model of decorum!" but the girl continued regarding the figures on the
vase, seemingly indifferent to the scene before her.

"I hear, sirrah, but a poor account of your behavior last night,"
continued the princess. "You must have a care, or I shall send you back
to the duke and command him to have you whipped. You have been here but
overnight, yet how many enemies have you made? The king; the admiral,
and--last but not least--a certain lady. Poor fool! you may have saved
your neck, but for how long? Fie! what an account must I give of you to
your master!"

"Ah, Madam," he answered quickly, "you show me now the folly of it all."

"Let me see," she went on more gently, "what