Herrick laughed, but there was no mirth in his laughter.
"You have changed a good deal, friend Roger," said the dwarf after a pause.
"Is that wonderful? Does a man become a duke without changing? To be nobody particular is the happiest condition, Jean. When you climb up into the seats of the mighty, you get a wider view of the world and the men and women in it. The sight is not pleasant, and the heart and head grow quickly sick of it all."
"Why climb then?" asked Jean.
"We are children of circumstances, and our own inclinations count for little," Herrick returned.
"Twice, at least, you might have ridden to the frontier and left Montvilliers to settle its own quarrels. Why didn't you?"
"Ah! Why didn't I?" said Herrick, asking himself a question rather than making a reply to the dwarf.
There was a long silence, and presently Jean rose to his feet, and going to Herrick, touched him on the arm with his fool's bauble sharply enough to make the bells jingle.
"I alone wear the uniform, friend Roger, but maybe I am not the only fool. There are different kinds of fools. Dukes may be of the brotherhood, and perchance women like Mademoiselle de Liancourt. You might find the world a less disagreeable place if you deigned to explain yourself and tried to understand others. Men have become wise before now by following the advice of a fool."
Herrick laughed again, still mirthlessly, as he passed out of the room. His days were full of arduous business. A few stanch friends he had, but mostly enemies surrounded him, enemies who were silent because they feared him. Was it a marvel that he had changed? A man forced to hold his position by inspiring fear must necessarily live apart and take care to show no weaknesses. Sentiment is not for him, and any kindness he may do must be begged for, not given freely. Such a man must own to no mistakes, cannot confess to an ill-judged action, theoretically he must be incapable of doing wrong.