“Your second chance,” said the Guardian of the Gate. “I will leave you to your choice. Be careful how you choose.”
He turned away, and disappeared in the crowd.
“Hear ye! Hear ye!” cried the man on the platform. “A message from the King! Whereas the affliction of the itching palm has now become so grievous that it can no longer be endured, the King now offers, to such person as shall cure him, one-half of all the dead leaves in his treasury! And to him also he promises one-half of all the dead leaves belonging to each person whom he shall cure! The offer is open to all! Be diligent! Thus saith the King!”
The messenger got down, and immediately there arose near the platform a commotion, with much laughter, and those in that neighborhood began to cry out:
“Way for the Lord Buffo! Make way for the wise Lord Buffo!”
A Dwarf Clad in Motley Stands up to Speak
A singular figure now mounted the platform, facing in our direction. He was a dwarf, hunchbacked and thickset, with a very large head set deep in his shoulders, and arms which hung to his knees. His clothing was of squares of yellow and blue and green and orange, and on his head he wore a paper crown, rimmed around at the top with little bells. With his right hand he pulled up by a cord a small monkey, dressed in all respects like himself; and in his other hand he held the long tail feather of a cock.
“The King’s Fool,” said one of the bystanders in my ear.
The Fool waved the feather, and the crowd settled itself to listen.
“Hear ye! Hear ye!” he cried, in a loud, harsh voice.