In the bustle that followed, when old Count Benoît and his Lady Myriel hung upon the necks of their seven daughters in turn, the King tapped the Lord Rector upon the arm.
"You have builded even better than the promise said," whispered his Majesty. "From this blow shall the aggressive intellect of woman not arise."
But the Rector looked gloomily upon him and knelt again, and begged that his Majesty would release him from further service that he might go to the wars.
"Two parts of the Fool have I played for your Majesty," said the man bitterly, "and from both I would be released, for you and I have done a great wrong."
Little Clementine had drawn nearer, and many-colored light of purple and crimson and gold fell on her fair face and parted lips as she looked in wonder at her lover. Then the King saw and understood, and he was ashamed.
"Nay, My Lord Rector," he said, bending low, "what we have done of wrong we will right. You shall even go on with the task set before you, and that that you do lack of a wise man shall this woman's faith make good."