Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1905-01-03

and ut the sight of them-the book Of
romance and the jester who brought it
what wonder her patience gave way?
"You have been here now q fortnight,
Monsieur Diplomat" she continued,
bending the eyes which Trib0ulet so
feared upon the other.
Thirteen days, to be exact, sweet
Jacqueliney he answered calmly.
Indeed! Then there is some hope
for you IL you've kept track of time"
she returned polntedly.
what mean you, gentle mistress"
he asked quietly, without even looking
ut her.
"'Sweet Jacquelinev Gentle mis-
tressr You are profuse with soft
wordsw she cried sharply.
"And yet they turn you not from an.
ger"
"Anger!" she said, her eyes flashing.
"Not another man at court would dare
to talk to me as you do.'
II know, Mistress" he returned IRON
ically, you have reputation for sor-
Gerry, but l think 1t lies more In your
eyes than in the moon."
"And yet l can see the future for all
that" she replied persistently, defiant
ly.
"The future" he retorted, and look
ed from the earth to- the sky. What
Is the goal Of yonder tiny cloud? Can
you tell me thatY'
1.-The goal?" she repeated, uplifting
her head. wait! 1t is very small.
The sun is already swallowing 1t up."
"Heighor' yawned the jester, out
stretching his yellow pointed boot. II
catch not the moral to the fable-an
there be oner
1.-The moral" she said quickly. ASK
Marot."
"Why MarotT' balancing the stick
with the fools head in his hand.
Because he dared love Queen Mar
gueriter' she answered impetuously.
''The fool in motley; the lady in purple!
How he jested at her wedding! How
he wept when he thought himself
alone!
He had but himself to blame,
Jacqueline." returned the other, with
composure, although his eyes were now
bent straight before him. "He could
not climb to her; she could not stoop
to him. Yet, dare say, 1t was mad
dream he would not have foregone."
"Not have foregone!' she exclaimed
quickly. What would he not have
given to tear 1t from his breast-aye,
though he tore his heart with 1t! That
day, bright and fair, when Henry
d'Albret. king of Navarro, took her in
his arms and kissed her brow. When
amid gay festivities she became his
bride! Not have foregone? Yes; Marot
would forego that day-and other
days"
Still that inertia; that irritating i'm.
mobility. What tragic tale for
summer day. was his only comment
"And Caillettew she continued
rapidly. distinguished in mien, grace
full In manner. In the house Of his
patron lie dared look up to that noble
mans daughter, Diane de Poitiers. A
dream, q youthful dream! Enter NJ.
de Breze, grand seneschal Of Norman
dy, Shall tell you the rest! How
Caillette stares. moody, knitting his
brows ut his cups! OF what is the
jester thinking"
whether the grand seneschal will
let him sleep with the spaniels, Jacque'
line, or turn him out" laughed the jest
err.
Angrily she clasped her hands before
her. rs it the way your mind would
move" she retorted.
"a jester without a roof to cover him
is like dog without kennel. mis-
tress"
you but seek to fout me from my
tale" she said sweetly. "Caillette Is
none such, as you know. They were
young together. Twas said he con-
fessed his love: that tokens passed be-
tween them. Rhymes he writ to her;
flower, perhaps, she gave him. a tiow-
er he yet cherishes, mayhap. dried.
faded, yet plucked by her."
"a flower for himself, no doubt-not
given him for another!
What mean you?" he asked. mo-
mentarily dropping his unru!lled man
ner.
"Not muchw Lightly she tripped to
O bush, broke or a flower and regard
ell IL mischievously. why should peo-
pie hide that which is so sweet and
fragrant?" she remarked and set the
rose in her hair.
"IIideY he said, looking at the flow
er, but not ut her.
81 trust you kept the rose, Monsieur
Diplomat?' she spoke up suddenly, her
expression most serious.
"What rose?" he asked, now become
restless beneath her cutting tongue.
"What rose? AS II you did not know!
How innocent you look. How many
roses are there in the world? A thou
sand, or only one? What rose? Her