“Nobody killed him,” he answered bluntly.

The Princess was naturally violent, especially with her inferiors, and when she was angry she easily lost all dignity.  She seized the dwarf by the arm and shook him.

“No jesting!” she cried.  “He did not kill himself—­who did it?”

“Nobody,” repeated Adonis doggedly, and quite without fear, for he knew how glad she would be to know the truth.  “His Highness is not dead at all—­”

“You little hound!” The Princess shook him furiously again and threatened to strike him with her other hand.

He only laughed.

“Before heaven, Madam,” he said, “the Prince is alive and recovered, and is sitting in his chair.  I have just been talking with him.  Will you go with me to his Highness’s apartment?  If he is not there, and safe, burn me for a heretic to-morrow.”

The Princess’s hands dropped by her sides in sheer amazement, for she saw that the jester was in earnest.

“He had a scratch in the scuffle,” he continued, “but it was the fall that killed him, his resurrection followed soon afterwards—­and I trust that his ascension may be no further distant than your Excellency desires.”

He laughed at his blasphemous jest, and the Princess laughed too, a little wildly, for she could hardly control her joy.

“And who wounded him?” she asked suddenly.  “You know everything, you must know that also.”

“Madam,” said the dwarf, fixing his eyes on hers, “we both know the name of the person who wounded Don John, very well indeed, I regret that I should not be able to recall it at this moment.  His Highness has forgotten it too, I am sure.”

The Princess’s expression did not change, but she returned his gaze steadily during several seconds, and then nodded slowly to show that she understood.  Then she looked away and was silent for a moment.

“I am sorry I was rough with you, Adonis,” she said at last, thoughtfully.  “It was hard to believe you at first, and if the Prince had been dead, as we all believed, your jesting would have been abominable.  There,”—­she unclasped a diamond brooch from her bodice—­“take that, Adonis—­you can turn it into money.”

The Princess’s financial troubles were notorious, and she hardly ever possessed any ready gold.

“I shall keep it as the most precious of my possessions,” answered the dwarf readily.

“No,” she said quickly.  “Sell it.  The King—­I mean—­some one may see it if you keep it.”

“It shall be sold to-morrow, then,” replied the jester, bending his head to hide his smile, for he understood what she meant.

“One thing more,” she said; “Don John did not send you down to tell this news to the court without warning.  He meant that I should know it before any one else.  You have told me—­now go away and do not tell others.”

Adonis hesitated a moment.  He wished to do Don John’s bidding if he could, but he knew his danger, and that he should be forgiven if, to save his own head, he did not execute the commission.  The Princess wished an immediate answer, and she had no difficulty in guessing the truth.