Above the other distinctive features of that tragic night, to the _plaisant_ this question had reiterated itself persistently in the solitude of his cell. True, he had forgotten he was only a jester; but had it not been the memory of her soft glances that had hurried him on to the avowal? She had no fault to be condoned; the fool was the sole culprit. From her height, could she not have spared him the scorn and contempt of her question? Over and over, through the long hours he had asked himself that, and, as he brooded, the idealization with which he had adorned her fell like an enshrouding drapery to the dust; of the vestment of fancy nothing but tatters remained.
A voice without, harsh, abrupt, broke in upon the jester's thoughts. The prisoner started, listened intently, a gleam of fierce satisfaction momentarily creeping into his eyes. If love was dead, a less exalted feeling still remained.
"How does the fool take his imprisonment?" asked the arrogant voice.
"Quietly, my Lord," was the jailer's reply.
A brief command followed; a key was inserted in the lock, and, with a creaking of bolts and groaning of hinges, the warder swung back the iron barrier. Upon the threshold stood the commanding figure of the free baron. A moment he remained thus, and then, with an authoritative gesture to the man, stepped inside. The turnkey withdrew to a discreet distance, where he remained within call, yet beyond the range of ordinary conversation. Immovably the king's guest gazed upon the jester, who, unabashed, calmly endured the scrutiny.
"Well, fool," began the free baron, bluntly, "how like you your quarters? You fought me well; in truth very well. But you labored under a disadvantage, for one thing is certain: a jester in love is doubly--a fool."
"Is that what you have come to say?" asked the plaisant, his bright glance fastened on the other's confident face.
"I came--to return the visit you once made me," easily retorted the master of Hochfels. "By this time you have probably learned I am an opponent to be feared."
"As one fears the assassin's knife, or a treacherous onslaught," said the fool.
"Did I not say, when you left that night, the truce was over?" returned the king's guest, frowning.