as caught, and a swaying figure
clung to the bridle:

"By the cross, the Fool has him! A fine heritage for my cousin Philip, a
village with its bravest man a simpleton!"

The Fool held on swinging. His arms were very strong, and as is the way
with fools and those that drown, many things went through his mind. The
horse was his. He would go adventuring along the winter roads,
adventuring and singing. The townspeople gathered about him with
sheepish praise. From a dolt he had become a hero. Many have taken the
same step in the same space of moments, the line being but a line and
easy to cross.

The _denouement_ suited the grim mood of the overlord. It pleased him to
see the smug villagers stand by while the Fool mounted his steed. Side
by side from the parapet he and the Bishop looked down into the town.

"The birthday of our Lord, Bishop," he said, "with fools on blooded
horses and the courage of the townspeople in their stomachs."

"The birthday of our Lord," said the Bishop tranquilly, "with a lad
mounted who has heretofore trudged afoot, and with the hungry fed in the
market place."

Now it had been in the mind of the Bishop that the day would soften
Charles' grim humour and that he might speak to him as man to man. But
Charles was not softened.

So the Bishop gathered up his courage. His hand was still on the cross
on the donkey's back.

"You are young, my son, and have been grievously disappointed. I, who am
old, have seen many things, and this I have learned. Two things there
are that, next to the love of God, must be greatest in a man's life--not
war nor slothful peace, nor pride, nor yet a will that would bend all
things to its end."

The overlord scowled. He had found the girl Joan in the Market Square,
and his eyes were on her.

"One," said the Bishop, "is the love of a woman. The other is--a child."

The donkey stood meekly, with hanging head.

"A woman," repeated the Bishop. "You grow rough up here on your
hillside. Only a few months since the lady your wife went away, and
already order has forsaken you. The child, your daughter, runs like a
wild thing, without control. Our Holy Church deplores these things."

"Will Holy Church grant me another wife?"

"Holy Church," replied the Bishop gravely, "would have you take back, my
lord, the wife whom your hardness drove away."

The _seigneur's_ gaze turned to the east, where lay the Castle of
Philip, his cousin. Then he dropped brooding eyes to th