"I never desired him to?" he muttered over and over to himself. "What does that mean?" And he stood stock still and looked about for explanation; but none was vouchsafed by the moon, or the bushes, or night itself, the customary adviser of the Fool's doubts and queries.
"How is this?" he said again. "Did the King's Favorite, then, desire him? And will Preferment come if he be wanted? And how does one ask him?"
All this was inexplicable to the Fool and he took courage to return to the cave.
"Tell me," he asked of the Wise Man, "did the King's Favorite want
Preferment more than I? And how does Preferment come if he is wanted?"
The Wise Man nodded gently to himself. "Aye," he muttered, "so it is, so it is." The Fool gazed in amazement at this, but because he thought all Wise Men are somewhat mad, he waited and did not run away, as his heels advised.
"Listen," the Wise Man began again, "this man has so wanted Preferment all his life that he has given up everything that is dear to him. He has crushed underfoot every dream and vision save this alone, to be seen in the company of Preferment." The Wise Man turned and looked about at the Fool. "He has no sod house,—no days afield and by the brook. He never heard the night-song of the wind or the winter-rune of the pine. Nothing of all these things that you love has he had."
The Fool's eyes were round with amazement. "No sod house?" But the other was sunk into a reverie and gave no answer. The Fool stood first on one foot, then on the other, then with his old smile he turned and skipped away. As he returned through the night, walking, hopping, or running, as the need came to him, he crooned to himself a song he had once made up.
"My lips are a-tremble with a grave little song.
I care not if the wide world hear.'
Its words happened forth as I dreamed and trudged along.
I care not if the wide world hear.
"It has not worth nor weight, it is neither sweet nor strong.
I care not if the wide world hear.
For I sing it to myself when the great doubts throng
And I care not if the wide world hear."
That was all, but he hummed it with great content, beating time with one hand; and as for the King's Favorite, for all that Preferment rideth on the pommel of his saddle, I doubt not he never sang such a song to himself, or took such pleasure in the singing.