“How lady, how,” quoth he, “no pledge, no troth, quotha—”
“Neither one nor other, messire, nor shall there ever be—”
“Here is madness, lady, madness—”
“Here is truth, messire, truth; I may not pledge my troth with Duke Jocelyn since I have this day pledged myself unto Duke Jocelyn's jester—”
“Jester, lady, jester? Venus aid us—Cupid shield us! A jester, a Fool, a motley mountebank, a—”
“Aye!” cried Yolande. “All this is he, my lords. Very humble and lowly—yet do I love him! Oh, 'tis joy—'tis joy to thus confess my love—his cap and bells and motley livery are fairer to me than velvet mantle or knightly armour; he is but humble jester, a Fool for men's scorn or laughter, yet is he a man, so do I love him and so am I his—unto the end. My lords, I have no more to say save this—give me my jester—this man I love—and suffer us to go forth hand in hand together, even as we came.”
The Duchess Benedicta uttered a soft, glad cry, and seizing her husband's arm, shook it for very joy. But now, as Yolande fronted them all, pale and proudly defiant, was the ring of a mailed foot, and turning, she shrank trembling to see Duke Jocelyn hasting toward her, his black armour glinting, his embroidered surcoat fluttering, his long arms outstretched to her; thus quick-striding he came but, even as she put out shaking hands to stay him, he fell upon his knee before her.
“Most brave and noble lady—beloved Yolande,” he cried, and lifted his vizor. Now beholding the scarred face of him, the tender, smiling lips, the adoration in his grey eyes, she trembled amain and, swaying to him, rested her hands on his mailed shoulders.
“Joconde,” she whispered, “ah, Joconde—what dream is this?”
“Nay, beloved, the dream is ended and findeth me here at thy feet. The dream is past and we do wake at last, for thy motley Fool, thy Duke and lover am I, yet lover most of all. And thou who in thy divine mercy stooped to love the Fool, by that same love shalt thou lift Duke Jocelyn up to thee and heaven at last. And Oh, methinks the memory of thy so great and noble love shall be a memory fragrant everlastingly.”