“It had in that case been your Majesty's study to have got rid of them as fast as you could,” said Le Glorieux.
“Aha! Sir Wisdom, art thou there?” said Louis, turning round, and instantly changing the pathetic tone in which he had addressed Crevecoeur, and adopting with facility one which had a turn of gaiety in it.—“Hast thou followed us hither?”
“Ay, Sir,” answered Le Glorieux, “Wisdom must follow, in motley, where Folly leads the way in purple.”
“How shall I construe that, Sir Solomon?” answered Louis. “Wouldst thou change conditions with me?”
“Not I, by my halidome,” quoth Le Glorieux, “if you would give me fifty crowns to boot.”
“Why, wherefore so?—Methinks I could be well enough contented, as princes go, to have thee for my king.”
“Ay, Sire,” replied Le Glorieux, “but the question is, whether, judging of your Majesty's wit from its having lodged you here, I should not have cause to be ashamed of having so dull a fool.”
“Peace, sirrah!” said the Count of Crevecoeur, “your tongue runs too fast.”
“Let it take its course,” said the King, “I know of no such fair subject of raillery as the follies of those who should know better.—Here, my sagacious friend, take this purse of gold, and with it the advice never to be so great a fool as to deem yourself wiser than other people. Prithee, do me so much favour as to inquire after my astrologer, Martius Galeotti, and send him hither to me presently.”
“I will, without fail, my Liege,” answered the jester; “and I wot well I shall find him at Jan Dopplethur's, for philosophers, as well as fools, know where the best wine is sold.”