"Nobody! How mean you?" demanded Philip. "You cannot be nobody."
"Yes, I am," answered the juggler. "I have often heard the sage Count Thibalt d'Auvergne say to my master, the valiant Sir Guy de Coucy, that the intellect is the man. Now, I lack intellect; and therefore am I nobody.--Haw, haw! Haw, haw!"
"So thou art but a buffoon," said the king,
"No, not so either," replied Gallon. "I am, indeed. Sir Guy de Coucy's tame juggler; running wild in this forest, for want of instruction."
"And where is now Sir Guy de Coucy," demanded the king, "and the Count Thibalt d'Auvergne you speak of? They were both in the Holy Land when last I heard of them."
"As for the Count d'Auvergne," replied Gallon the fool,--"he parted from us three days since to go to Paris, to make love to the king's wife, who, they say, has a pretty foot. God help me!"
"Ha, villain!" cried the king. "'Tis well the king hears you not, or your ears would be slit!"
"So should his hearing spoil my hearing," cried the juggler; "but I would keep my ears out of his way. I have practice enough, in saving them from my Lord Sir Guy; but no man has reached them yet, and shall not.--Haw, haw!"
"And where is Sir Guy?" demanded the king. "How happen you to have parted from him?"
"He is but now sitting a mile hence, singing very doleful ballads under an oak," replied the juggler. "All about the old man and his daughter.--Haw, haw! Sir Julian of the Mount and the fair Isadore.--Haw, haw, haw!--You know?"