"How else? A word added here and there; a post-script, or even a page! As for their highnesses' seals, any fool can break and mend a seal. In a week the duke will wonder at the princess' silence; in a fortnight he will become uneasy; in a month he will learn the cage has been left open and the bird hath flown. Then, too, shall the gates of the dungeon be set ajar, and the true, but tardy, messengers permitted to go their respective ways. Is it not a nice adventure? Am I not a fitter leader than your duke?"
"Undoubtedly," returned the jester. "He sits at home, while you are here in his stead. But what will the princess say when she learns?"
"Nothing. She loves me already."
The fool turned pale; the hand that held his glass, however, was firm, and he set the goblet down without a tremor.
"She may weep a little, but it will pass like a summer shower. Women are weak; women are yielding. Have I not reason to know?" he burst out. "I, a—"
Brusquely he arose from his chair, leaving the sentence uncompleted. Sternly he surveyed the jester.
"Why not take service with me?" he continued, abruptly. "Austria is ripe to revolt against the tyranny of the emperor. With the discontent in the Netherlands, the dissensions in Spain, Europe is like a field, cut up, awaiting new-comers."
He paused to allow the force of his words to appeal to the other's imagination. "What say you?" he continued. "Will you serve me?"
"The matter's worth thinking over," answered the fool, evasively.
"Well, take your time," said the king's guest, regarding him more sharply. "And now, as the candles are low and the flask is empty, you had better take your leave."