"The idea! The protection of a fool! I see you wear the Court livery, but you have a foreign accent. Who are you?"
"I am a Pole; my name is Raymond Zaklika."
"A Pole, then a nobleman, that's understood," said the fool; "be seated, I respect the nobility, and as I am a burgher, I shall stand."
"Don't joke, Mr. Frölich!"
"I should swallow my own tongue, if I didn't joke. But we have not much time, so tell me what you want."
For a few moments the youth was unable to speak; the good humour of the fool evidently disconcerted him.
"Permit me first to tell you a little about myself," said he at length.
"Only a little? willingly."
"I came to the Court by a mere chance. I am sure you must have heard of me. Unfortunately for me, I can break horseshoes and cups as well as the King does. For that I have been ordered to remain at the Court."
"I remember now," laughed the fool, "and I do not envy you in the least. Who was so simple as to advise you to rival the King?"