"Do not, oh, do not!" cried the princess. "Let us not talk of my father, or any of the people at home! I am going to weep; I shall be as tearful as poor Cunegunda," she went on, half-laughing, as she brushed the tears from her eyes. "What would her Majesty, Queen Isabella, say were she to see me weeping with my jester—she who always is so careful never to betray her emotions, and who, even when she is ill, never utters a moan? The prince will come soon and we are to give an audience to some persons of distinction, and it will not do for me to be seen with swollen eyes."
"There, there," said the jester, taking her handkerchief and wiping her eyes as if she had been a little child. "Your lashes are long and thick, you see, and the tears hang to them and make them seem like more tears than they really are. They will spoil your pretty eyes. And you are not really sad, you know, for why should you be, when you will one day be queen of one of the great nations of the earth?"
"Somehow I do not care about that part of it, Le Glorieux, and I hope King Ferdinand and dear Queen Isabella will live to be very, very old. But I can be dignified when I like, can I not, Le Glorieux?"
"Most certainly you can, my little lady. That night when you were brought a prisoner before Anne of Brittany you were as dignified as a woman of forty."
"And as I grow older it will be easier for me to be silent and cold. I am only sixteen now."
"Of course it will be. The older people grow, the more silent and cold they are. That is to say, as a rule. Clotilde, now, is old and cold, but she is not always silent. There you are smiling, and your tears are all gone; do not get into the habit of weeping. As I understand it, you are expected neither to smile nor weep, but get into a humor half-way between the two and you will be just right."
"Le Glorieux," said the princess, "if you are not happy in Spain, there is no reason why you should stay here. I will send you home to my father, who will be glad to have you with him. You have plenty of friends there and you will be contented."
"And you would be willing to have me go, you could spare me, little Cousin?" asked the fool sadly.
"I am not thinking of myself. I should miss you sorely. But I want you to live where you will be happiest."
"Then that will be where you are, little Princess. No matter if Ferdinand commands me to be as sour and grave as one of the dried-up professors in the university, here do I remain."