So the Fool was usually well content to be alone. But when, as
now, he was perplexed by any problem that disturbed his simple
cheerfulness, he had to seek some other and wiser man for counsel, not
being one of those men, more mind than heart, who unravel problems
with as much accuracy and equanimity as a skilful weaver plies his
loom.
So that evening, with the moon sending his shadow out ahead of him,
the Fool walked overfield to the cave of the Wise Man. Timidly
approaching, he peered through the entrance and found the Wise Man
sitting still and alone, gazing into the ashes of a flickering fire.
"Please," said the Fool anxiously, "why does Preferment ride with the
King's Favorite and never with me?"
The other did not stir for a long while, but after the Fool had
shifted several times from one foot to the other, beginning to despair
of an answer, the Wise Man spoke.
"Because," he said slowly, still looking into the fire, "thou hast
never desired him to." And, having spoken, he kept silent, and after a
little the Fool turned away.
"I never desired him to?" he muttered over and over to himself.
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