"Have you any reason, knave, why I should spare you?" asked the fool.
"If I had—for want of breath—it would fail me!" answered the miscreant with some difficulty.
The duke's jester arose. "Get up, rogue!" he said, and the man obeyed.
He was a pale, gaunt fellow, with long hair, unshaven face, hollow cheeks, and dark eyes, set deeply in his head and shaded by thick, black brows. His dress consisted of a rough doublet, with lappet sleeves, carried down to a point, tight leggings, broad shoes and the puffed upper hose; the entire raiment frayed and worn; his flesh, or, rather, his bones, showing through the scanty covering for his legs, while his feet were no better protected than those of a trooper who has been long on the march. He displayed no fear or enmity; on the contrary, his manner was rather friendly than otherwise, as though he failed to understand the enormity of his offense and the position in which he was placed. Shifting from one foot to another, he crossed his great, thin hands before him and patiently awaited his captor's pleasure. The latter surveyed him curiously, and, noting his woebegone features and beggarly attire, pity, perhaps, assuaged his just anger toward this starveling.
"Why did you wish to kill me?" asked the jester quietly, if somewhat impatiently.
"It was not my wish, Master Fool," gently replied the other, but even as he spoke the resignation in his manner gave way to a look of apprehension. Lifting his hand, he felt in his breast and glanced about him on the road. Then his face brightened.
"With your permission—I have e'en dropped something—"
And stooping, the scamp-scholar picked up a small, leathern-bound volume from the ground, where it had fallen during the struggle, and held it tightly clutched in his hand. "Ah," he muttered with a glad sigh, "I feared I had lost it—my Horace! And now, Sir Jester, what would you with me?"
"A question I might answer with a question," replied the fool. "Having failed in your enterprise, why should I spare you?"
"You shouldn't," returned the vagabond-student. "The ancients teach but the irrevocable law of retribution."