stition, and the red eyes met the dark ones.
But a moment, and the former dropped sullenly; a strange thrill ran
through him. He thought he was bewitched.

"_Non nobis Domine!_" he murmured, striving to recall a hymn. As Latin
was the language of witchcraft, so, also, was it the antidote.
Contemptuously she turned her back and walked slowly to the fire. Upon
her white face and supple figure played the elfish glow, lighting the
little cap and the waving tresses beneath.

Regarding her furtively, Triboulet's courage returned, since she was
looking at the coals, not at him.

"Ho, ho!" he said jocosely. "You all thought I was sincere. Listen,
my children! The art of fooling lies in trumped-up earnestness." He
smiled hideously.

"Bravo, Triboulet!" cried an admiring voice.

"Only time and art can give you such mastery over the passions,"
continued the jester. "Which one of you would depose me? Who so ugly
as I? Poets, philosophers! I snap my fingers at them. Poor moths!
And you dare bait me with a new-comer! Let him look to himself!" From
earnestness to grandiloquence was but a step.

"Let him come!" And Triboulet, imitating the pose of Francis himself,
drew his wooden sword.

"Let him come!" he repeated, fiercely.

"Who?" called out a gay and reckless voice.

Through the doorway leading into the kitchen stepped a young man;
slender, almost boyish in appearance, with light-brown hair and
deep-set eyes that belied the gaiety and mirth of his features. His
costume, that of a Jester, was silk of finest texture and design, upon
which were skilfully fashioned in threads of silver the arms of Charles
V, King of Spain and Emperor of Germany, the powerful rival of Francis,
whose friendship now, for reasons of state, the latter sought.

Smilingly the foreign jester gazed around the room; at the unusual
furnishings, picturesque, yet appropriate; at the inmates, the fools
scattered about the great board or near the mighty fireplace; the
renowned philosopher, Rabelais, sleeping on his arms, with hand
outstretched toward the neglected tankard; at the striking appearance
of the girl who looked with casual, careless interest upon him; at the
grotesque, crook-backed figure before the throne.

And observing the incongruity of his surroundings, he laughed lightly,
while his glance, turning inquiringly if not insolently, from one to
the other, lingered in some surprise upon the young woman. He had
heard that in f