“And do you not believe in the prophetess of Zanah? Have you not faith that she will be the inspired one?”
“Why do you question the village fool?” asked Hans Peter, suddenly, wary lest he should tell something that he wished to conceal. “Thou knowest that to all the colony Walda Kellar is the revered one. Truly, she walketh near to God.”
“Then perhaps some day she will lead you into the full faith of Zanah?” said Everett. But the fool shook his head.
“Hans Peter loveth earth, not heaven. He would not be wise as the men of Zanah are wise, for verily their wisdom bringeth them no joy.”
“Hans Peter, you speak as one who has much knowledge, after all. I am beginning to think that you are the wisest man in the colony.”
“If there is wisdom in knowing one is a fool and being content in his own folly, then am I wise. They say that the fool is often given the power of prophecy; and when I was carving the day of the month upon one of the gourds I keep to help my memory, there came to me the fear that something was coming to Zanah through thee. I ran to seek thee that I might give warning of the trouble thou art bringing to the colony.”
Everett reached into the pocket of his coat, took out a cigar, and lighted it. “Perhaps you will be kind enough to tell me in just what way I am to bring more trouble to Zanah,” he said, with a smile. “I had nothing to do with the loss of the Bible, for I have refused to buy it, and I give you my word now, Hans Peter, that I will never take it away from Gerson Brandt.”
“Thy word is not needed now,” answered the fool. “The Bible is where thou canst not get it.”
“And you know where it is,” said Everett, so quickly that the fool was taken off his guard.
“And if I do, no one shall find it,” the simple one declared, with a gesture of his arm and a stamp of his bare foot.