The Court Jester

The ladies accompanied the hunters a little way up the mountain, until the ascent became steep and tiresome, and then they returned to the inn. There the princess, who was very fond of pets, was greatly attracted by a baby chamois, a little kid, which had been adopted by the landlord's children. He was a cunning little fellow, with bright eyes that seemed to sparkle with fun when she stroked his foolish little face and soft velvety ears. When she spoke to him he would turn his head to one side as if reflecting upon what the lady had said, seeming to be thinking very hard with a view of giving a suitable reply, and then he would double himself up and roll about like a kitten.

In the meantime the emperor's party were climbing higher, an ascent which grew more and more difficult as they continued. Le Glorieux, who had hunted the chamois in the company of his late master, was acquainted with the ways of this elusive animal, which is one of the most difficult in the world to hunt. But to Philibert and Antoine the experience was new and strange. These three were a little behind the others when Le Glorieux said, pointing to the right, "There is one!"

"Oh, that," said Philibert, "is nothing but a rock. You are prepared to see a chamois in every distant object."

"I am very much mistaken," said the other, "if that is not a sentinel sent out to watch for danger, while the others may take their breakfast in peace. You have no idea what a very clever animal the chamois is. If a good many kings and emperors were half as keen to scent danger it would be a great deal better for the countries they rule."

"What is the good of a chamois being a sentinel?" asked Antoine. "If that is one he is too far away from the others to call their attention to danger."

"Not a bit of it," was the reply. "He is too clever to get too far away to give the signal; trust him to look out for that. If he should see us he would say in his way, which would be to stamp his forefeet and give a shrill kind of a whistle, 'Here are some of those disgusting human beings with their bows and arrows. Get out of their way as fast as you can, every one of you!'"

One of the huntsmen now said that they would be obliged to go back and come up the other side of the gorge, as they must get above the game in order to shoot it, so they went down a steep ravine, climbing over ledges of rock and up the other side. But in the meantime the sentinel had done his duty and had informed his friends of the presence of the men with their bows and arrows, and the party, which now could see the flock, numbering some twenty animals, saw a scampering that was wonderful to behold. With a series of remarkable leaps they sprang over a gulch and climbed up rocks so steep it seemed as if no living creature could have found a footing.

Round the other way went the hunters after them, rushing pell-mell over rocks and shrubs, but all the animals escaped save one, which seemed doomed eventually to become the prey of Maximilian. Higher and higher climbed the frightened chamois, higher and higher followed the straight athletic figure of the emperor. Once when he was hunting chamois Maximilian had found himself in a position so perilous that it seemed to him that nothing but the suddenly-developed wings of a bird could possibly extricate him, but he did not remember former dangers now, for he thought of nothing but the capture of the frightened creature flying before him.

Finally the hunted animal could go no farther, finding it impossible to climb higher, or to pass its pursuer in a downward flight. So there was nothing to do but to wait in trembling expectancy the death that was sure to come. The emperor seized his knife, and the chamois, as if willing at last to yield to the inevitable, seemed to lean its soft body toward the cruel blade, then fell headlong down the rocks, from where it was afterward taken by the attendants.

And thus the hunt continued, and Philibert, though he watched it with interest, had turned his mind upon the attainment of one object, and that was finding a cluster of edelweiss. Sometimes our thoughts appear to be reflected in the mind of some one besides us, and it now seemed to be the case, for Le Glorieux said, "I am not foolishly squeamish, I should hope, and I have stood up in battle and shot at men who were able to defend themselves, but I can not say that it amuses me in the least to see a chamois killed. They are such gentle things, and they make such a plucky effort to save themselves, and they look at their captor with such piteous eyes when they are stabbed, that I do not see anything enjoyable in it, though, of course, I am nothing but a fool. And, as our little princess wants a sprig of edelweiss, I shall go in pursuit of a flower instead of a chamois."

"Le Glorieux, dear Le Glorieux, let me get the flower for her," pleaded Philibert.

"What matters which of us gets it, so long as she has it?" asked the fool. "Let us both look for it, and then it will be more likely to be found."

"Very well, if you think best, but I like to do things for her, Le Glorieux. I went to the wars with my father when I was so young that I scarcely remember the love of a sister, and when the Lady Marguerite smiled at me the first night that I saw her, with a look of kindness that no one else ever had given me, I felt as if I could give up my life for her."

"She always is kind," said the jester; "she never is haughty, even to her servants. I loved her in the first place because she was her mother's daughter, but now I love her for herself. She never has a harsh word or a sharp tongue for the poor fool, and seems to remember that he has feelings as well as the rest of the world."

The edelweiss is a flower which grows upon dizzy heights, blooming under the snow. The great difficulty sometimes experienced in finding it renders it the more desirable. Philibert had seen the flower and knew that it usually grew in dangerous places; but this fact did not make him hesitate for a moment in his resolve to pluck it. After searching for some time he was at last rewarded by seeing a cluster of the snowy blossoms hanging over the edge of a dark rock some distance below him. There was no way to reach it but to attempt a dangerous descent by climbing down the cliff to where the flowers grew. But the boy, in his eagerness to obtain the flower, did not think of the danger, and forthwith began to climb downward, finding a foothold on rough projections, and clinging to others, sliding cautiously downward, for there was a little level space just above the plant where he knew he could stand while securing it. It was a foolhardy feat, and would not have been undertaken by any but a rash youth, who gave no thought to possible consequences, and who was resolved to accomplish what he had undertaken in spite of everything. A stunted shrub grew out of the rocks some distance above the flower, and Philibert grasped it, thinking to swing himself downward. This act was his undoing, for the treacherous limb broke with a sharp snap, and the youth was precipitated downward, not to the level space beside the flower, but over it and some twenty feet down to another level space, where he lay for some time stunned and unconscious.

When he returned to his senses he was lying flat on his back on a narrow ledge of rock, and dangerously near the edge, with a little stream of blood trickling from his temple. Rising to his feet he moved his legs and arms as vigorously as possible, to see if any bones were broken, but was delighted to find that, with the exception of the cut, which did not seem to be a deep one, he had sustained no serious injury.

But Philibert would have been far more comfortable and easy in his mind on safe ground with a broken arm than he was in this lonely spot, though comparatively uninjured. For the depth below him was so great that it made him dizzy to look over the edge of his resting-place, while above him the rock was so steep that not even a chamois could have climbed it. And there above him, as it had been but a short time ago below him, was the edelweiss, its flowers nodding at him impudently as if defying him to come up and take them. "I will have you yet," said he, though he felt that in the circumstances this sounded a good deal like an empty boast.

Each member of the hunting party had a horn at his side to blow in case of need, but that of Philibert was flattened by his fall, and would not give forth the faintest sound. His friends would miss him and search for him, but he had heard of people who had been lost for ever among these cold, silent mountains, and he could not help thinking that possibly this was to be his own fate, for he knew that, intent upon his search, he had wandered quite a distance from his companions, who might not know in what direction to look for him. And all this for a cluster of starlike blossoms that looked over the edge of the rock above him and nodded in derision! He put his hands to his mouth and called as loudly as he could, but the rocks echoed his call and seemed to throw it back at him disdainfully and mockingly.

He repeated the call until he was tired, then he sat down quietly to think. How long could he remain here before he froze or starved to death? He had heard of life being sustained on roots and herbs, but there was nothing here but rock, and nothing above him but rock, while below him there seemed to be naught save the empty air. After a while, when the excitement caused by his new position had given way to despair, he found that the wound on his temple really did pain him, and turning quite faint he remained for a long while with his eyes closed.

After what seemed to be a very long time the sound of a horn was borne to him on the air, a sound which seemed to the lost one as sweet as the song of an angel. He rose to his feet, and, putting his hands to his mouth once more, he called three times with all his strength. An answering call reassured him, and soon hearing voices, he called again, and was overjoyed to see the faces of his friends looking over the precipice above.

"In the name of all the saints, boy," called Maximilian, "are you hurt?"

"No, your Majesty, only a little bruised."

There was the hurried buzz of conversation, which he could not distinguish, and the looped end of a rope was lowered to him, which he secured about his body. Then he was slowly drawn up, and as he swung opposite the nodding blossoms, Philibert reached out his hands and grasped them, pulling them out by the roots.

"What is the matter with the boy? Is he out of his senses?" asked the emperor, who was anxiously watching the ascent to terra firma.

"No, I do not know that you could call him out of his senses exactly," replied Le Glorieux. "The Lady Marguerite wanted some edelweiss blossoms, and he was trying to find them for her. I have no doubt that he was after that very bunch when he fell. There is one thing that I have noticed about Philibert," went on the jester, "and that is that when he starts out to do a thing he will do it if it threatens every drop of blood in his body."

"He is a foolhardy youth," said the emperor. "I can understand how one could take almost any risk to kill a chamois, but not to pluck a handful of weeds." But he looked pleased, nevertheless, for he was a man who could appreciate perseverance. And he examined Philibert's wound with careful attention, saying that the two boys and the jester should return to the inn in the company of one of the guides. And Philibert de Bresse still clutched the flowers which he had risked so much to obtain.

Behind the mountaineer's hut, where the remainder of the party expected to spend the night, Le Glorieux took from the spot where he carefully had placed them, a cluster of snowy blossoms, which, with great difficulty, a scratched face, and some bruises, he had gathered before he heard of Philibert's mishap. These children of the snow he threw over the cliff unseen by his companions. "Let him have all the praise and the honor of it," said he to himself. "You are nothing but a fool, Le Glorieux, and you must not be selfish."

The princess received the flowers with a little cry of joy, and she thanked the donor with a smile so beaming, inquiring so tenderly about his wound, that Philibert felt repaid a thousandfold for the trouble he had taken to gratify her wish.

"But, my poor Le Glorieux," said the princess sweetly, "you have an ugly scratch across your face, and your hands are bruised. Have you also had a fall?"

"No, little Cousin," he returned gravely, and with a shake of the head. "The scrapings you notice on my handsome countenance and on my slender hands are but the result of a weakness with which I was born."

"You were not born with those scratches, or I should have observed them long ago," she replied, smiling.

"I said the result of a weakness, your Highness. It is my nature to want to climb. Whenever I see the side of a rock I am seized with an uncontrollable desire to scale it, and climb I must if the sky falls. I always have found it the most agreeable sensation in the world to be clinging to the side of a rock with nothing over me but the blue of the heavens, and nothing beneath me but the blue of some mountain lake and with a delightful feeling of uncertainty as to just where I am to find my next foothold."

"That is an odd taste indeed," she returned, laughing, "and I do not think there are many who share it with you."

Antoine, I regret to say, was a mischievous youth, as we have seen from the trick he played on his friend the jester when they first started out on their journey together, and it may have been – though of course he would have scorned the suggestion – that some of the raps given him by the old Duchess of Burgundy were not altogether undeserved.

However that may be, he surely did meddle with something at the inn which did not concern him, as you shall presently see. That "something" was a cunning little bear. The innkeeper conducted the jester and the two boys to a rude cage constructed out of the limbs of trees, which he had placed a little distance from the house and near the edge of the forest. Within the cage was a brown bear cub which had been brought to him by a friend. This wild and woolly pet, he said, he was going to train and sell for a good round sum to a traveling mountebank, who would want to exhibit it in the courtyards of inns and before the nobility.

Young Master Bruin was already learning, and one felt that his education would be completed by the time he was full grown. When his master would say "Come," he would obey, and he could stand on his hind feet in a manner that was quite genteel, and he was greatly admired by the three guests of his master, who watched his performances. When replaced in the cage, he walked round and round it, and every time he came to a corner he would bow, as all bears do when caged, but Le Glorieux remarked, "I see that you have begun by teaching him to be polite, and politeness is a great thing in man or beast. There are a good many things we could learn from animals if we would only think about it, though we are so well satisfied with ourselves that we think we are the only living beings in the world who are worth considering. There are not many of us who are as faithful in our friendship as an ordinary dog, and did you ever watch a cat when she had her mind bent on getting a certain mouse? Talk about patience and perseverance! Why, if a man had as much, he could accomplish almost anything he set out to do!"

"I should like to take that little bear out and play with him," remarked Antoine, as the innkeeper walked on ahead with Philibert.

"Just you take my advice, my young friend, and let that bear alone," said the jester, with emphasis. "The owner of the bear will teach him a number of tricks, no doubt, but there is one that he will not be obliged to learn, having been born with it, and that is the art of hugging."

"Pooh!" said Antoine, "a little thing like that could not hurt me. I have played with dogs a good deal larger than that bear."

"You take my advice and let him alone, or the emperor may be asking for one of his favorite songs and find nobody at hand to sing it."

But even in this twentieth century a boy may be found once in a while who will not take good advice, though experience always teaches the wisdom of listening to older people, and Antoine allowed the good counsel of Le Glorieux to glide from his mind as drops of water roll off a duck's back, so, at the very first opportunity he could find to do so unseen, he returned to the bear's cage.

Taking the rope which the bear's master had used to lead him about, Antoine opened the door and tried to get the loop about the animal's neck. Master Bruin, as if realizing that here was some one who had no business to tamper with him, growled and gazed at the intruder with a sardonic grin, which revealed all his sharp white teeth.

"You need not look so fierce, you woolly little thing," said the boy; "you are no bigger than a ball of knitting yarn. I should be ashamed to be afraid of you." Then he dragged the rope back and held the loop open in his hand, calling, "Come, come," as the innkeeper had done. But young Bruin crouched sulkily in the extreme end of his domicile, without deigning to move.

Then the boy took a long stick and poked him with it, saying, "You obstinate pig of a bear, we shall see whether you will come out or not. You have made me lose all patience with you."

The little bear now made up his mind to accept the invitation, and that, too, very swiftly and suddenly, and before Antoine had time to throw the loop over his head or even to think what to do next, the bear was upon him. Bruin scorned to bite. His talent and taste did not lie in that direction, but in the way of squeezing he was an adept. He hugged Antoine as if the boy had been a lost brother now restored to his arms after a lapse of many years. The boy thought of the dagger he wore in his belt, but in order to reach the weapon it was necessary to have the use of his arms, and both of those members were securely pinned to his side by that inconsiderate little bear, who went on squeezing as if he never meant to leave off. Antoine now was very much frightened. He was at the mercy of his foe and he was afraid that the breath would be pressed out of his body in a very short time.

He gave a shrill and ear-piercing yell which brought the innkeeper and Le Glorieux in haste from the house and opened all the windows on that side, where heads were thrust out to see what was the matter.

What the bear thought when he saw his master never will be known. What he did was to release his hold on the boy as suddenly as if the latter had been a hot potato, and scamper away as rapidly as his clumsy legs could carry him. The two men ran in pursuit, but their efforts were unavailing, for Master Bruin had deserted civilization forevermore.

"I warned you, did I not, to let that bear alone?" asked Le Glorieux indignantly. "Did I not tell you that he was terrible when it came to hugging? Why did you do just what I warned you not to do? People who refuse to take good advice are always sorry for it."

"I only wanted to have a little sport with him," whimpered Antoine. "I did not know that bears could hug so hard."

"You have found it out now," said the jester. "You have played our friend here a fine trick. He was keeping the bear in order to sell him at a good price, and you, in spite of everything I could say to you, must let the animal escape. It would be no more than fair for you to pay whatever he is worth to our good host and consider yourself lucky with getting off without a cuffing in addition – a punishment you deserve!"