_Helmaar_ (_kneels and kisses her hand_). Speak on, excellent fool.

_Christina and ladies_. Speak on, excellent fool--In came the Lady Eleonora, all in tears.

_Fool_. In comes the Lady Eleonora, all in tears--(_pauses and looks round_). Why now, what makes you all so curious about these tears?--Tears are but salt water, let them come from what eyes they will--my tears are as good as hers--in came John Aleftson, all in tears, just now, and n.o.body kneels to me--n.o.body kisses my hands--n.o.body cares half a straw for my tears--(_folds his arms and looks melancholy_). I am not one of those--I know the cause of my tears too well.

_Helm_. Perhaps they were caused by my unexpected return--hey?

_Fool_ (_scornfully_). No--I am not such a fool as that comes to. Don't I know that, when you are at home, the poor may hold up their heads, and no journeyman-gentleman of an agent dares then to go about plaguing those who live in cottages? No, no,--I am not such a fool as to cry because Count Helmaar is come back; but the truth is, I cried because I am tired and ashamed of wearing this thing--(_throwing down his fool's cap upon the floor, changes his tone entirely_)--_I!_--who am brother to the man who saved Count Helmaar's life--I to wear a fool's cap and bells--Oh shame! shame!

[_The ladies look at one another with signs of astonishment._]

_Christina_ (_aside_). A lucid interval--poor fool!--I will torment him no more--he has feeling--'twere better he had none.

_Eleon_. Hush!--hear him!

_Aleft_. (_throwing himself at the counts feet_). n.o.ble count, I have submitted to be thought a fool; I have worn this fool's cap in your absence, that I might indulge my humour, and enjoy the liberty of speaking my mind freely to the people of all conditions. Now that you are returned, I have no need of such a disguise--I may now speak the truth without fear, and without a cap and bells.--I resign my salary, and give back the ensign of my office--(_presents the fool's cap_).

[_Exit_.]

_Christina_. He might well say, that none but fools should pay compliments--this is the best compliment that has been paid you, brother.

_Eleon_. And observe, he has resigned his salary.

_Helm_. From this moment let it be doubled:--he made an excellent use of money when he was a fool--may he make half as good a use of it now he is a wise man.

_Christina_. Amen--and now I hope we are to have some more dancing.

[_Exeunt_.]

ACT II.

SCENE--_By moonlight--a forest--a castle illuminated at a distance.--A group of peasants seated on the ground, each with a knapsack beside him.--One peasant lies stretched on the ground_.

_1st Peasant_. Why, what I say is, that the wheel of the cart being broken, and the horse dead lame, and Charles there in that plight--(_points to the sleeping peasant_)--it is a folly to think of getting on further this evening.

_2nd Peasant_. And what I say is, it's folly to sleep here, seeing I know the country, and am certain sure we have not above one mile at furthest to go, before we get to the end of our journey.

_1st Peasant_ (_pointing to the sleeper_). He can't walk a mile--he's done for--dog tired--

_3rd Peasant_. Are you _certain_ sure we have only one mile further to go?

_2nd Peasant_. Certain sure--

_All, except the sleeper and the 1st Peasant_. Oh, let us go on, then, and we can carry the knapsacks on our backs for this one mile.

_1st Peasant_. You must carry him, then, knapsack and all.

_All together_. So we will.

_2nd Peasant_. But first, do you see, let's waken him; for a sleeping man's twice as heavy as one that's awake--Hollo, friend! waken!

waken!--(_he shakes the sleeper, who snores loudly_)--Good Lord, he snores loud enough to waken all the birds in the wood.

[_All the peasants shout in the sleeper's ear, and he starts up, shaking himself._]

_Charles_. Am I awake?--(_stretching_.)

_2nd Peasant_. No, not yet, man--Why, don't you know where you are? Ay; here's the moon--and these be trees; and--I be a man, and what do you call this? (_holding up a knapsack_.)

_Charles_. A knapsack, I say, to be sure:--I'm as broad awake as the best of you.

_2nd Peasant_. Come on, then; we've a great way further to go before you sleep again.

_Charles_. A great way further! further to-night!--No, no.

_2nd Peasant_. Yes, yes; we settled it all while you were fast asleep--You are to be carried, you and your knapsack.

[_They prepare to carry him_.]

_Charles_ (_starting up, and struggling with them_). I've legs to walk--I won't be carried!--I, a Swede, and be carried!--No! No!--

_All together_. Yes! Yes!

_Charles_. No! No!--(_he struggles for his knapsack, which comes untied in the struggle, and all the things fall out_.)--There, this comes of playing the fool.

[_They help him to pick up the things, and exclaim,_]

_All_. There's no harm done--(_throwing the knapsack over his shoulder_).

_Charles_. I'm the first to march, after all.

_Peasants_. Ay, in your sleep!

[_Exeunt, laughing._]

_Enter_ CATHERINE'S _two little Children_.

_Little Girl_. I am sure I heard some voices this way--suppose it was the fairies!

_Little Boy_. It was only the rustling of the leaves. There are no such things as fairies; but if there were any such, we have no need to fear them.

_Little Boy sings_.

I.

Nor elves, nor fays, nor magic charm, Have pow'r, or will, to work us harm; For those who dare the truth to tell, Fays, elves, and fairies, wish them well.