At that moment something wriggled its way along between the legs of the courtiers toward the king; it was Triboulet.
"Sire," said the fool, "will you permit me to dedicate to your Majesty a work I am about to print?"
"With all the pleasure in the world, fool," the king replied; "but I must first know the title of the work, and how far advanced it is."
"Sire, the work will be entitled the 'Almanac of Fools,' and will contain a list of the greatest idiots that the world has ever seen. As to the progress I have made with it, I have already inscribed upon the first page the name of the king of all fools past and to come."
"Who might this illustrious worthy be, whom you give me for cousin, and select for king of fools?"
"Charles V., Sire."
"Charles V.," cried the king; "and why Charles V.?"
"Because there is no other than Charles V. in the world, who, after detaining you a prisoner at Madrid as he did, would be insane enough to pass through your Majesty's dominions."
"But suppose that he does pass through the very heart of my dominions without accident?"
"In that case," said Triboulet, "I promise to erase his name and put another in its place."