"He must be very wise."
"Am I wise, little one?" asked the Rector.
"Wisest of all," answered the maiden, whispering.
Then he took her white hand in his and said softly, "Amo. Amas?" but Clementine did not understand a word of Latin. Looking up, however, she saw something she did understand, and then My Lord Rector bent and kissed her hand, wisely using the old, old way of wooing that was found before words, Latin or other, were invented.
Then Clementine drew back trembling and looked, and behold, he who had been but a wonderful voice was changed, and she saw that he was a man, and young, and comely, with merry eyes touched with sadness, and a mouth whose curves were both cynical and sweet.
"Why, why should you choose me?" asked the maiden, in a voice that shook for reverence.
"Because you are so adorably foolish!" cried the lover, forgetting, and that was a mistaken speech, which mere words could not explain away.
It was agreed between them that none should know what had befallen until the day when old Count Benoît and his Lady Myriel came up to the city to take home their seven daughters, for their work was counted done. So the two lived a glad life, though they spoke but seldom; often a glance of the eyes made food for both day and night. All the time My Lord Rector's conscience pricked him more and more, until he could no longer bear it, and one day, coming upon Clementine where she passed the path by the rippling river, near three willow trees that were freshly leaved out, for it was spring, he told her the tale of how he and the King had deceived womankind, and, with torture of spirit, confessed himself the King's Fool. Then Clementine looked up at him with eyes where the gray and the brown seemed flecked with green, perchance from the shadow of the willows, and said firmly:—
"I have always seen that they who call themselves fools are the least so," nor could he ever after by any words of confession shake her steadfast faith in his wisdom.
At last came the day when Count Benoît arrived, and with him cousins and other kin from far and near, for all would know something of the strange new ways in the city. At lecture hour all crowded together in the great hall, and again the King was there upon the dais, solemn of look, but merry of heart, for his eyes twinkled under his heavy eyebrows as he looked at the fair, fresh faces before him, innocent of thought as any other maidens' faces, and he chuckled to think how he and his dear Fool had outwitted them all. Then he looked with affection at his trusty philosophers who stood near in silk robes with slashes of velvet and hoods of rainbow colors, and he thanked heaven that had given him strong supporters in the crisis that had threatened his kingdom. Gazing upon the assembled audience of friends and kinsfolk, he rejoiced to think that for them, as for him, the country had been saved.