Prince Juan entered. He bent gracefully and pressed Marguerite's fingers to his lips, then he offered his arm, and thus they left the room.
The jester wandered to the garden, where he remained for a long time on the seat vacated by the prince. He plucked a branch of pomegranate blossoms and fastened it to the front of his yellow coat. "Bright colors help to make one cheerful," murmured he, and rising, he went down to the river, and leaning over the old stone bridge, he looked into the dingy waters. "They tell me that the waters of the Tormes River will make one forget all he knows if he drinks of them," thought the fool. "They have a saying here if any one forgets anything, 'He has been drinking of the waters of the Tormes.'" Twilight had closed in around him when he became conscious of some one standing beside him. It was a tall man in a long black cloak, and wearing a tall pointed black hat. He was very thin and his small eyes were like black beads.
"You were gazing into the waters of the Tormes, Señor," said the stranger, in a melancholy voice.
"If you are telling me that as a piece of news you must not mind if I am not surprised at it," replied the fool.
"Do you know the effect produced upon those who drink of this water, Señor?" asked the stranger, ignoring the flippancy of the jester's reply.
"Judging from the color of the water, I should say the effect would be gritty," replied Le Glorieux.
"They are the waters of oblivion," went on the tall man; "those who drink of them forget all they know."
"That would not be a great effort for some people," said Le Glorieux.
"One cup of this water and the past is completely forgotten," repeated the stranger.
"Some people might be glad to forget their past," remarked the fool.