"Soldier!" she exclaimed, quickly. "When he can not conquer Italy and regain his heritage!"
"Can not?" ventured Triboulet, mindful of the dignity of his royal master. "Why not?"
"Because the women would conquer him!"
"Nay; the king prefers the blue eyes of France," spoke up the cardinal's fool, he of the viola.
"Then do you set our queen of fools, our fair Jacqueline, out of his Majesty's good graces," interposed one of the lesser jesters, a mere baron's hireling, who long had burned with secret admiration for the maid of the coquettish cap.
"I am such a fool as to want the good graces of no man—or monarch!" she replied boldly, without glancing at the speaker.
"An he were in love, you would be two fools!" laughed Caillette, the court poet.
"In love, 'tis only the man is the fool or—the fooled!" she returned pointedly, and Caillette, despite his self-possession, flushed painfully. Since Diane de Poitiers had wedded her ancient lord, the poet had become grave, studious, almost sad.
"And is your mistress, the king's ward, fooling with her betrothed?" he asked quickly, conscious of knowing winks and nudges.
"The Princess Louise and the Duke of Friedwald are to wed for reasons of state," said the young woman, gravely. "There'll be no fools."