“Why are you talking to yourself, man?” he asked. The man answered:
“Because, soldier, I like to talk to a sensible man, and I like to hear a sensible man talk.”
“Ha, ha!” laughed the king. “Pretty good, pret-ty good! They tell me that all things please you. Is it true?”
“I think I can safely say yes, soldier.”
“But why are you so poorly clad?”
“The care of fine clothes is too much of a burden—I have long ago refused to be fashion’s slave.”
“But where are your friends?”
“Of those that I have had, the good are dead, and happier so than here; the evil ones have left me and are befriending some one else, for which I say, ‘Joy go with them.’”
“And is there nothing that you want?” As the king asked this question he looked at the man in a peculiarly eager way, nor did the answer disappoint him.
“I have all of the necessities of life and many of the luxuries. I am perfectly content. I know I have neither land nor money, but is not the whole world mine? Can even the king himself take from me my delight in the green trees and the greener fields, in that dainty little cloud flecking heaven’s blue up yonder like a bit of foam on a sunlit sea? Oh, no! I am rich enough, for all nature is mine—”