“’Tis more than flesh can well endure!” he cried.  “All day the thought of what I’ve lost was like a constant sword-thrust in my heart.  Instead of deference and respect that once was mine from high and low, ’twas laugh and jibe and pointing finger.  And, too,” (his voice grew shrill and querulous) “I saw young lovers straying in the lanes together.  How can I endure that sight day after day when my arms must remain for ever empty?  And little children prattled by their father’s side no matter where I turned.  I, who shall never know a little son’s caress felt like a starving man who looks on bread and may not eat.  Far better that I crawl away from haunts of men where I need never be tormented by such contrasts.”

The Jester looked down on Aldebaran’s wan face.  It was as white and drawn as if he had been tortured by the rack and thumbscrew, so he made no answer for the moment.  But when the fire was kindled, and they had supped the broth set out in steaming bowls upon the table, he ventured on a word of cheer.

“At any rate,” he said, “for one whole day thou hast kept thy oath.  No matter what the anguish that it cost thee, from sunrise till sunsetting thou hast held Despair at bay.  It was the bravest stand that thou hast ever made.  And now, if thou hast lived through this one day, why not another?  ’Tis only one hour at a time that thou art called on to endure.  Come!  By the bloodstone that is thy birthright, pledge me anew thou’lt keep thy oath until the going down of one more sun.”

So Aldebaran pledged him one more day, and after that another and another, until a fortnight slowly dragged itself away.  And then because he met his hurt so bravely and made no sign, the Jester thought the struggle had grown easier with time, and spoke again of going to his kindred.

“Nay, do not leave me yet,” Aldebaran plead.  “Wouldst take my only crutch?  It is thy cheerful presence that alone upholds me.”

“Yet it would show still greater courage if thou couldst face thy fate alone,” the Jester answered.  “Despair cannot be vanquished till thou hast taught thyself to really feel the gladness thou dost feign.  I’ve heard that if one will count his blessings as the faithful tell their rosary beads he will forget his losses in pondering on his many benefits.  Perchance if thou wouldst try that plan it might avail.”

So Aldebaran went out determined to be glad in heart as well as speech, if so be it he could find enough of cheer.  “I will be glad,” he said, “because the morning sun shines warm across my face.”  He slipped a golden beam upon his memory string.

“I will be glad because that there are diamond sparkles on the grass and larks are singing in the sky.”  A dew-drop and a bird’s trill for his rosary.

“I will be glad for bread, for water from the spring, for eyesight and the power to smell the budding lilacs by the door; for friendly greetings from the villagers.”