Knitting his brow, the noble stood motionless, deeply pondering, his headlong passion evidently at combat with his judgment; then his face cleared, a hard, brusque laugh burst from his lips and he brought his fist violently down on the massive oak table near the door.
"So be it!" he assented, with a more open look.
"A truce—without any rushes from the boar?"
"Fool! Does not my word suffice?" contemptuously retorted the duke.
"Yes; for although you are—what you are—you have been a soldier, and would not break a truce."
"Such commendation from—my jester is, indeed, flattering!" satirically remarked the king's guest, seating himself in a great chair which brought him face to face with the fool and yet commanded the door, the intruder's only means of retreat.
"Pardon me, the duke's jester, you mean?"
"Yes; mine!"
"A distinction with a difference!" retorted the fool. "It is quite true I am the duke's jester; it is equally untrue I am yours. Therefore, we reach the conclusion that you and the duke are two different persons. Plainly, not being the duke, you are an impostor. Have you any fault to find with my reasoning?"
"On the contrary," answered the other, with no sign of anger or surprise, "your reasoning is all that could be desired. Why should I deny what you already know? I was aware, of course, that you knew, when I first learned his jester was in the castle. Frankly, I am not the duke—to you!"