“Our companions will be caught in the storm; they have ridden forth with the captain to the fool’s bower, to destroy the last note of the wonderful tune.”
“Oh, the note, the note, my note! Oh, what shall I do?” cried the minstrel, his heart sinking into depths of despair. “Even now it may be lost to the world—this time forever! I must find the court fool; he shall tell me where the bower lies!” And he looked about in the splendid throng for the fantastic motley of the fool; but he saw only many in rich garments, and the gleam of jewels reflecting many lights.
Suddenly he chanced to recall that the court fool dwelt in the garret of the palace, so up great and little stairs he fled to the fool’s chamber in the eaves. The rain was now falling in torrents on the roof close overhead, and all at once a terrible peal of thunder shook the palace to its depths. Never pausing to knock, the little minstrel burst in at the door.
Candles were burning within the humble chamber, lightning flared at an oval window, and the court fool stood in the centre of the floor, still in his motley clad.
“My friend,” said the court fool, with a low bow and a mocking smile, “allow me to present you with the last note of the wonderful tune.” And with those words he handed the note to the very much astonished youth.
“I feared lest mishap destroy it,” continued the court fool, “so yestereve I took it from my bower. You see, I believe in the wonderful tune; and without my note, this last note, your tune would scarce be worth the playing. And now, your hand, little minstrel, for you must hurry away at once through the wind and rain.”
So the minstrel pressed the hand of the court fool and, hastening down a tiny corner staircase, went forth into the storm. And as he fled, he cried aloud to the thunder and the rain and the wild wind:—
“The wonderful tune, the wonderful tune! I have it, I have it—the wonderful tune!”
And now the storm wore itself away, the summer stars shone forth in the clearest of blue skies, and the only sound to be heard was the rain drip-dripping from the trees. Drenched to the skin, but with a fire of joy in his heart, the minstrel hurried through the night toward the Kingdom of Music far away.
When he arrived there, on a summer’s morning, he found the people of the palace assembled in the hall of state, and the King upon his throne.