Fool. In comes the Lady Eleonora, all in tears—(pauses and looks round). Why now, what makes you all so curious about these tears?—Tears are but salt water, let them come from what eyes they will—my tears are as good as hers—in came John Aleftson, all in tears, just now, and nobody kneels to me—nobody kisses my hands—nobody cares half a straw for my tears—(folds his arms and looks melancholy). I am not one of those—I know the cause of my tears too well.
Helm. Perhaps they were caused by my unexpected return—hey?
Fool (scornfully). No—I am not such a fool as that comes to. Don’t I know that, when you are at home, the poor may hold up their heads, and no journeyman-gentleman of an agent dares then to go about plaguing those who live in cottages? No, no,—I am not such a fool as to cry because Count Helmaar is come back; but the truth is, I cried because I am tired and ashamed of wearing this thing—(throwing down his fool’s cap upon the floor, changes his tone entirely)—I!—who am brother to the man who saved Count Helmaar’s life—I to wear a fool’s cap and bells—Oh shame! shame!
{The ladies look at one another with signs of astonishment.}
Christina (aside). A lucid interval—poor fool!—I will torment him no more—he has feeling—‘twere better he had none.
Eleon. Hush!—hear him!
Aleft. (throwing himself at the counts feet). Noble count, I have submitted to be thought a fool; I have worn this fool’s cap in your absence, that I might indulge my humour, and enjoy the liberty of speaking my mind freely to the people of all conditions. Now that you are returned, I have no need of such a disguise—I may now speak the truth without fear, and without a cap and bells.—I resign my salary, and give back the ensign of my office—(presents the fool’s cap).
{Exit.}
Christina. He might well say, that none but fools should pay compliments—this is the best compliment that has been paid you, brother.
Eleon. And observe, he has resigned his salary.