The Fool stood outside my door. I do not know if I was more surprised that he had knocked instead of slipping the latches, or at the way he was attired. I stood gaping at him. He bowed genteelly, then pushed his way into my room, closing the door behind him. He fastened a couple of latches, then stepped to the centre of the room and extended his arms. He turned in a slow circle for me to admire him. ‘Well?’ ‘You don’t look like you,’ I said bluntly. ‘I am not intended to.’
