the fool, feeling for another tune. "Should conspirators prevail, and
the damnedest be, she hath yet the Manor of Rozel and my larder," urged
Lempriere, with a splutter through the canary.

"That shall be only when the Fifth wind comes--it is so ordained,
Nuncio!" said the fool blinking. Buonespoir set down his flagon.
"And what wind is the Fifth wind?" he asked, scratching his bullethead,
his child-like, widespread eyes smiling the question.

"There be now four winds--the North wind and his sisters, the East, the
West, and South. When God sends a Fifth wind, then conspirators shall
wear crowns. Till then Delicio shall sow and I shall reap, as is
Heaven's will."

Lempriere lay back and roared with laughter. "Before Belial, there never
was such another as thou, fool. Conspirators shall die and not prevail,
for a man may not marry his sister, and the North wind shall have no
progeny. So there shall be no Fifth wind."

"Proved, proved," cried the fool. "The North wind shall go whistle for a
mate--there shall be no Fifth wind. So, Delicio shall still sail by the
compass, and shall still compass all, and yet be compassed by none; for
it is written, Who compasseth Delicio existeth not."

Buonespoir watched a lark soaring, as though its flight might lead him
through the fool's argument clearly. Lempriere closed his eye, and
struggled with it, his lips outpursed, his head sunk on his breast.
Suddenly his eyes opened, he brought the bottle of canary down with a
thud on the turf. "'Fore Michael and all angels, I have it, fool; I
travel, I conceive. De Carteret of St. Ouen's must have gone to the