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Under The Rose
By
Frederic Stewart Isham
Contents
CHAPTER
II - A ROYAL EAVESDROPPER
CHAPTER
III - A GIFT FOR THE DUKE
CHAPTER
IV - AN IMPATIENT SUITOR
CHAPTER
V - JACQUELINE FETCHES THE PRINCESS' FAN..
CHAPTER
VI - THE ARRIVAL OF THE DUKE
CHAPTER
VII - THE COURT OF LOVE
CHAPTER
IX - THE FLIGHT OF THE FOOL
CHAPTER
X - THE FOOL RETURNS TO THE CASTLE.
CHAPTER
XI - A NEW MESSENGER TO THE EMPEROR.
CHAPTER
XII - THE DUKE ENTERS THE LISTS
CHAPTER
XIII - A CHAPLET FOR THE DUKE
CHAPTER
XIV - AN EARLY-MORNING VISIT
CHAPTER
XVI - TIDINGS FROM THE COURT
CHAPTER
XVII - JACQUELINE'S QUEST
CHAPTER
XVIII - THE SECRET OF THE JESTRESS.
CHAPTER
XIX - A FIGURE IN THE MOONLIGHT
CHAPTER
XX - AN UNEQUAL CONFLICT
CHAPTER
XXI - THE DESERTED HUT
CHAPTER
XXII- THE TALE OF THE SWORD
CHAPTER
XXIII - THE DWARF MAKES AN EARLY CALL.
CHAPTER
XXIV - AN ENCOUNTER AT THE BRIDGE.
CHAPTER
XXV - IN THE TENT OF THE EMPEROR.
CHAPTER
XXVI - THE DEBT OF NATURE
CHAPTER
XXVII - A MAID OF FRANCE
CHAPTER
XXVIII - THE FAVORITE IS ALARMED..
CHAPTER
XXIX - THE FAVORITE IS REASSURED..
UNDER THE ROSE
"A song, sweet Jacqueline!"
"No, no--"
"Jacqueline!--Jacqueline!--"
"No more, I say--"
A jingle of tinkling bells mingled with the sq=
ueak
of a viola; the guffaws of a rompish company blended with the tuneless chan=
ting
of discordant minstrels, and the gray parrot in its golden cage, suspended =
from
one of the oaken beams of the ceiling, shook its feathers for the twentieth
time and screamed vindictively at the roguish band.
Jingle, jingle, went the merry bells; squeak,
squeak, the tightened strings beneath the persistent scraping of the rosined
bow. On his throne in Fools' =
hall,
Triboulet, the king's hunchback, leaned complacently back, his eyes bent up=
on a
tapestry but newly hung in that room, the meeting place of jesters, buffoons
and versifiers.
"We appeal to Triboulet--"
"Triboulet!"
A girl's silvery laugh rang out.
"Triboulet!"
Again the derisive musical tones.
Upon his chair of state, the dwarf did not ans=
wer;
professed not to hear. By the
uncertain glimmer of torches and the flickering glow of the fire he was eng=
aged
in tracing a resemblance to himself in the central figure of the composition
wrought in threads of silk--Momus, fool by patent to Jove, thrust from Olym=
pus
and greeting the earth-born with a great grin.
"An excellent likeness!" muttered
Triboulet. "A very pretty
likeness!" he continued, swelling with pride.
And truly it was said that sprightly ladies,
working between love and pleasure times, drew from the court fool for their
conception of the mythological buffoon, reproducing Triboulet's great head;=
his
mouth, proportionately large; his protruding eyes; his bowed back, short, t=
wisted
legs and long, muscular arms; and his nose far larger than that of Francis,=
who
otherwise had the largest nose in the kingdom.
But how could they depict the meanness of soul
that dwelt in that extraordinary shell?&nb=
sp;
The blithesome tapestry-makers, albeit adepts in form, grace and
harmony, could not touch the subjectiveness of existence. Thus it was a double pleasure for
Triboulet to see, limned in well-chosen hues, his form, the crookedness of
which he was as proud as any courtier of his symmetry and beauty, the while=
his
dark, vain soul lay concealed behind the mask of merry deformity and laughi=
ng monstrosity.
"Would your Majesty like to command me?&q=
uot;
The mocking feminine voice recalled Triboulet =
from
his pleasing contemplation.
"No, no!" he answered, sullenly, and
condescended to turn his glance upon the assemblage.
Over a goodly gathering of jesters, buffoons,
poets, and even philosophers, he lorded it, holding his head as high as his
hump would permit and conscious of his own place in the esteem of the
king. Not long ago the monarc=
h had
laughed and applauded when Triboulet had twisted his features into a horrid
grimace, and since then the dwarf's little heart had expanded with such
arrogance, it seemed to him he was almost Francis himself as he sat there on
Francis' sometime throne; and these Sir Jollys were his subjects all--Marot,
Caillette, Brusquet, Villot, and the lesser lights, jesters of barons,
cardinals and even bishops!
Rabelais, too, that poor, dissolute devil of a writer, learned as Ho=
mer,
brutish as Homer's swine--all subjects of his, the king of jesters, save on=
e;
one whom he eyed with certain fear and wonder; fear, because she was a
woman--and Triboulet esteemed all the sex but "highly perfected
devils"--and wonder, at finding her different from, and more perplexing
than even the rest of her kind!
"Jacqueline!--"
now she was perched on one corner of the table,
and her face had a witch-like loveliness, as though borrowing its pallor and
beauty from the moon, source of all magic and necromancy. Her eyes shone with such luster th=
at,
seeking their hue, they held the observer's gaze in mocking languor, and
cheated the inquisitive coxcomb of his quest, the while the disdainful lips
curved laughingly and so bewildered him, he forgot the customary phrases and
stood staring like a nonny. H=
er footstep
fell so light, she was so agile and quick, the superstitious dwarf swore she
was but a creature of the night and held surreptitious meetings with all the
familiar spirits of demonology. As
she never denied the uncanny imputation, but only displayed her small white
teeth maliciously, by way of answer, Triboulet felt assured he was right an=
d crossed
himself religiously whenever she gazed too fixedly at him.
A most gracieuse folle, her dress was in keepi=
ng
with her character, yellow being the predominating color. To the fanciful adornment of the g=
own
her lithe figure lent itself readily, while her rebellious curls were well
adapted to that badge of her servitude, the jaunty cap that crowned their
waving abundance.
In especial disdain, from her position upon the
corner of the table, her glance wandered down the board and rested on Rabel=
ais,
the gourmand, before whom were an empty trencher and tankard. The priest-doctor-writer-scamp who
affected the company of jesters and liked not a little the hospitality of
Fools' hall, which adjoined the pastry branch of the castle kitchen and was=
not
far removed from the wine butts, had just unrolled a bundle of manuscript, =
all
daubed with trencher grease and tankard drippings, and was about to read al=
oud
the strange adventures of one Pantagruel, when, overcome by indulgence, his=
head
fell forward on the table, almost in the wooden platter, and the papers
fluttered to the floor.
"Put him out!" commanded Triboulet f=
rom
his high place.
But she of the jaunty cap sprang from the tabl=
e.
"How wise are your Majesty's decrees!&quo=
t;
she said mockingly with her glance upon the dwarf. He shifted uneasily in the throne.=
"You should have put him out =
before! But now"--turning contemptuou=
sly to
the poor figure of the great man--"he's harmless. His silence is golden; his speech =
was
dross."
"And yet," answered Marot, thoughtfu=
lly,
"the king esteems him; the king who is at once scholar, poet, wit,
soldier--"
"Soldier!" she exclaimed, quickly. "When he can not conquer Ital=
y and regain
his heritage!"
"Can not?" ventured Triboulet, mindf=
ul
of the dignity of his royal master.
"Why not?"
"Because the women would conquer him!&quo=
t;
"Nay; the king prefers the blue eyes of
France," spoke up the cardinal's fool, he of the viola.
"Then do you set our queen of fools, our =
fair
Jacqueline, out of his Majesty's good graces," interposed one of the
lesser jesters, a mere baron's hireling, who long had burned with secret ad=
miration
for the maid of the coquettish cap.
"I am such a fool as to want the good gra=
ces
of no man--or monarch!" she replied boldly, without glancing at the
speaker.
"An he were in love, you would be two
fools!" laughed Caillette, the court poet.
"In love, 'tis only the man is the fool
or--the fooled!" she returned pointedly, and Caillette, despite his
self-possession, flushed painfully.
Since Diane de Poitiers had wedded her ancient lord, the poet had be=
come
grave, studious, almost sad.
"And is your mistress, the king's ward,
fooling with her betrothed?" he asked quickly, conscious of knowing wi=
nks
and nudges.
"The Princess Louise and the Duke of
Friedwald are to wed for reasons of state," said the young woman,
gravely. "There'll be no
fools."
"Ah, a loveless match!"
"But not a landless one!" retorted s=
he
of the cap without the bells. "Besides, it cements the friendship of
Francis and Charles V! What m=
ore
would you? But I'll tell you a
secret."
At that the company flocked around her, as tho=
ugh there
was something enticing in her tone; the vague promise of an interesting bit=
of
gossip or the indefinite suggestion of a court scandal.
"A secret!" said the cardinal's fool, rubbing his hands together. H= is master often rewarded him for particularly choice morsels of loose tittle-tattle.<= o:p>
"Oh, nothing very wicked!" she answe=
red,
waving them back with her small hand.
"'Tis only that they play at make-believe in love, the princess=
and
her betrothed! But after all,=
it is
far more sensible than real love-making, where if the pleasure be more acut=
e,
the pangs are therefore the greater.
She addresses to him the tenderest counterfeit verses; he returns th=
em
in kind. She even simulated s=
uch an
illusory sadness that the duke has sent his own jester, who has but just
arrived at court, to amuse her (ahem!) dullness, until he himself could
come!"
At this the cardinal's buffoon looked
disappointed, for his master liked more highly-flavored hearsay, while
Triboulet frowned and brought down his heavy fist upon the arm of the thron=
e.
"A new jester forsooth!" he exclaime=
d.
"And why not?" Lifting her swart bro=
ws,
quizzically.
"We are already overstocked with 'prentice
fools," he retorted, looking over the throng.
"Ah, you fear perhaps some one may depose
you?" remarked Jacqueline coldly.
A guarded laugh arose from the gathering and t=
he
dwarf's eyes gleamed.
"Depose me, Triboulet!" he shouted,
rising. "Triboulet is
sovereign lord of all at whom he mocks!&nb=
sp;
His wand is mightier than an episcopal miter!"
In his overweening rage and vanity he fairly
crouched before the throne, eying them all like a cat. His thick lips trembled; his eyes =
became
bloodshot.
He forgot all prudence.
"Doth not the king himself seek my
advice?" He laughed horr=
ibly. "Hath
not, perhaps, many a fair gentleman been burned--aye, burned to ashes as a
Calvinist!--at my suggestion!"
"Miserable wretch! Spy!" exclaimed the young wom= an, paler than a lily, as she bent her eyes, with fully opened lids, upon him.<= o:p>
As if to shield himself, he raised his hand, y=
et
drunkenness or wrath overcame caution and superstition, and the red eyes met
the dark ones. But a moment, and the former dropped sullenly; a strange thr=
ill
ran through him. He thought h=
e was
bewitched.
"Non nobis Domine!" he murmured, str=
iving
to recall a hymn. As Latin wa=
s the
language of witchcraft, so, also, was it the antidote. Contemptuously she
turned her back and walked slowly to the fire. Upon her white face and supple fig=
ure
played the elfish glow, lighting the little cap and the waving tresses bene=
ath.
Regarding her furtively, Triboulet's courage
returned, since she was looking at the coals, not at him.
"Ho, ho!" he said jocosely. "You all thought I was
sincere. Listen, my children!=
The art of fooling lies in trumped=
-up
earnestness." He smiled
hideously.
"Bravo, Triboulet!" cried an admiring
voice.
"Only time and art can give you such mast=
ery
over the passions," continued the jester. "Which one of you would depose
me? Who so ugly as I? Poets, philosophers! I snap my fingers at them. Poor moths! And you dare bait me w=
ith a
new-comer! Let him look to
himself!" From earnestne=
ss to
grandiloquence was but a step.
"Let him come!" And Triboulet, imitating the pose =
of
Francis himself, drew his wooden sword.
"Let him come!" he repeated, fiercel=
y.
"Who?" called out a gay and reckless
voice.
Through the doorway leading into the kitchen
stepped a young man; slender, almost boyish in appearance, with light-brown
hair and deep-set eyes that belied the gaiety and mirth of his features.
Smilingly the foreign jester gazed around the
room; at the unusual furnishings, picturesque, yet appropriate; at the inma=
tes,
the fools scattered about the great board or near the mighty fireplace; the=
renowned
philosopher, Rabelais, sleeping on his arms, with hand outstretched toward =
the
neglected tankard; at the striking appearance of the girl who looked with
casual, careless interest upon him; at the grotesque, crook-backed figure
before the throne.
And observing the incongruity of his surroundi=
ngs,
he laughed lightly, while his glance, turning inquiringly if not insolently,
from one to the other, lingered in some surprise upon the young woman. He had heard that in far-away Fran=
ce the
motley was not confined to men. Had
not Jeanne, queen of Charles I, possessed her jestress, Artaude de Puy, &qu=
ot;folle
to our dear companion," as said the king? Had not Madame d'Or, wearer of the
bells, kept the nobles laughing?
Had not the haughty, eccentric Don John, his handsome, merry joculat=
rix,
attached to his princely household?
But knowing only by rumor of these matters, the
jester from abroad looked hard at her, the first madcap in petticoats he had
ever seen. For her part, Jacqueline bore his scrutiny with visible annoyanc=
e.
"Well," she said impatiently, a flas=
h of
resentment in her fine eyes, "have you conned me over enough?"
"Too much, mistress," he replied in =
no
wise abashed, "an it hath displeased you. Too little to please myself."=
"Yourself!" she returned, with sudde=
n anger
at his persistent gaze. "Some lord's plaything to beat or whip; a
toy--"
"And yet a poet who can make rhymes on
woman's beauty," he answered with a careless laugh.
"Another courtier!" grumbled
Triboulet. "Lacking true=
wit,
fools nowadays essay only compliments to cover their dullness."
With the same air of insolent amusement, the
new-comer turned to the throne and its occupant, whom he subjected to an ev=
en
more deliberate investigation.
"Is it man or manikin, gentle mistress?&q=
uot;
he asked, after concluding his examination.
She did not deign to answer, but the offended
Triboulet waved his wooden sword vindictively.
"Manikin!" he roared, and sprang with
vicious lunges upon the duke's jester, who falling back before the suddenne=
ss
of the assault, whipped out his weapon in turn, and, laughing, threw himself
into an attitude of defense.
"A mortal combat!" cried the cardina=
l's
wit-snapper.
"Charles V and Francis!" exclaimed
Caillette, referring to the personal challenge which had once passed between
the two great monarchs. "=
;With a
throne for the victor!" he added gaily, indicating Triboulet's chair of
state.
The clatter and din awoke Rabelais, who drowsi=
ly
regarded the combatants with lack-luster gaze and undoubtedly thought himse=
lf
once more amid the fanciful conflicts of fearful giants.
"Fall to, Pantagruel, my merry Paladin!&q=
uot;
he exclaimed bombastically. "Cut, slash, stab, fence and
justle!" And himself, re=
aching
for an imaginary sword, encountered the tankard which he would have raised =
to his
lips but that his shaggy head fell again to the board before his willing arm
had obeyed the passing impulse of his sluggish brain.
"Fence!--justle!" he murmured, and s=
lept
once more.
But the parrot, again disturbed, could not so
easily compose itself to slumber.
Whipping its head from its downy nest, it outspread its gray wings
gloriously and screamed and shouted, as though venting all the thunders of =
the
Vatican upon the offending belligerents.&n=
bsp;
And above the uproar and noise of arms, rabble and bird, arose the
piercing voice of Triboulet:
"Watch me spit this bantam-cock!"
Tough and sharp-pointed, a wooden sword was no
insignificant weapon, wielded by the thews and sinews of a Triboulet. Crouching like an animal, the king=
's
buffoon sprang with headlong fury, uttering hoarse, guttural sounds that
awakened misgivings regarding the fate of his too confident antagonist.
"Do not kill him, Triboulet!" cried
Marot, alarmed lest the duke's fool should be slain outright. "Remember he has journeyed fr=
om the
court of Charles V!"
"Charles V!" came through Triboulet's
half-closed teeth. "My
master's one great enemy!"
"Hush!" muttered Villot. "Our master's enemy is now hi=
s dear
friend!"
"Friend!" sneered the other, but eve=
n as
he thrust, his sword tingled sharply in his hand, and, whisked magically ou=
t of
his grip, described a curve in the air and fell at a far end of the room. At the same time a stinging blow
descended smartly on the dwarf's hump.
"Pardon me!" laughed the duke's fool=
. "Being unused to such exercis=
e, my
blade fell by mistake on your back."
If looks could have killed, Triboulet would ha=
ve
achieved his original purpose, but after a vindictive though futile glance =
his
head drooped despondently. To=
have
been thus humiliated before those whom he regarded as his vassals! What jest could restore him the pr=
estige
he had enjoyed; what play of words efface the shame of that public chastise=
ment? Had he been beaten by the king--bu=
t thus
to suffer at the hand of a foreign fool!&n=
bsp;
And the monarch--would he learn of it?--the punishment of the royal
jester? As in a dream, he hea=
rd the
hateful voices of the company.
"'Tis not the first time he has been
wounded--there!" said fearless Caillette, who openly acknowledged his
aversion for the king's favorite fool.&nbs=
p;
"But be seated, gentle sir," he added to the stranger,
"and share our rough hospitality."
"Rough, certes!" commented the other=
, as
he returned his blade to his belt.
"And as I see no stool--"
"There's the throne!" returned
Caillette, courteously. "=
;Since
you have overcome Triboulet, his place is yours."
"A precarious place!" said the
new-comer, easily, dropping, nevertheless, into the chair.
"The king is dead! Long live the king!" cried the
cardinal's jester.
"Long live the king!" they shouted,
every fool and zany raising a tankard, save the dwarf and the young woman, =
the
former continuing to glare vindictively upon the usurper, and the latter to=
all
intent remaining oblivious of the ceremony of installation. Poised upon a chair, she idly thru=
st her
fingers through the gilded bars of the cage that hung from the rafters and
gently stroked the head of the now complaisant bird.
"Poor Jocko! Poor Jocko!" she murmured.
"La!--la!--la!--" sang the parrot,
responsive to her light caress.
"Your Majesty's wishes! Your Majesty's decree!" excla=
imed
the monastic wit-worm.
"Hear!&n=
bsp;
hear!" roared Brusquet.
"Silence!" commanded Marot. "His Majesty speaks."
"Toot! toot! toot!" rang out the
flourish of a trumpet, a clarion prelude to the fiat from the throne.
The new king in motley arose; heedless,
devil-may-care, very erect in his preposterously pointed shoes.
"I appoint you, Thony, treasurer of the
exchequer, because you are quick at sleight-of-hand," he began.
"Good," laughed Marot. "An he's more light-fingered =
than
his predecessor, he's a master of prestidigitation!"
"You, Brusquet," went on the new mas=
ter
of Fool's hall, "I reward with the government of Guienne, for he who
governs his own house so ill is surely fitted for greater tasks of
incompetency."
This allusion to the petticoat rule which
dominated the luckless jester at home was received in good part by all save=
the
hapless domestic bondman himself.
"You, Villot, are made admiral of the
fleet."
Villot smiled, thinking how Francis had but
recently bestowed that office upon the impoverished husband of pretty Madame
d'Etaille.
"Thanks, your Majesty," he began,
"but if some post nearer home--"
"You are to sail at once!"
"But my wife--"
"Will remain at court!" announced the
duke's jester with great decision.
Villot made a wry face. The king in motley smiled
significantly. "A safe h=
aven,
Villot! Besides, remember a c=
ourt
without ladies is like a spring without flowers."
A movement resembling apprehension swept throu=
gh
the company. The epigram had =
been
Francis'; the court--a flower-bed of roses--was, in consequence, a thorny m=
aze
for a jester to tread. From h=
er
chair at the far end of the room, the young woman looked at the new-comer f=
or the
first time since his enthronement.
Her fingers yet played between the gilded bars; the posture she had
assumed set forth the pliant grace of her figure. Above the others, she glanced at h=
im,
her hair very black against the golden cage; her arm, very white, half
unsheathed from the great hanging sleeve.
"You are over-bold," she said, a
peculiar smile upon her lips.
"Nay; I have spoken no treason,
mistress," he retorted blithely.
"Not by word of mouth, perhaps, but by
imputation."
He raised his brows with a gesture of wanton
protest, while the face before him clouded. Her eyes held his; her little teet=
h just
gleamed between the crimson of her lips.
"I presume you consider Charles the more
fitting monarch?" she continued.
Was it the disdain of her voice? Did she read his passing thoughts?=
Did
she challenge him to utter them?
"In truth," the jester said careless=
ly,
"Charles builds fortresses, not pleasure palaces; and garrisons them w=
ith
soldiers, not ladies."
She half-smiled. Her glance fell. Her hand moved caressingly, the sl=
eeve
waving beneath.
"Poor Jocko! Poor Jocko!" she murmured.
Triboulet's glance beamed with delight. She was casting her spell over his
enemy.
"Oh," muttered Triboulet, "if t=
he
king could but have heard!"
Perhaps it was a breath of air, but the tapest=
ry
depicting the misadventures of Momus waved and moved. Triboulet, who noted everything, s=
aw
this, and suffered an expression of triumph momentarily to rest upon his
malignant features. Had his p=
rayer
been answered? "A spring
without flowers," forsooth!
Dearly cherished the august gardener his beautiful roses. Great red roses; white roses; blos=
soms yet
unopened!
Following his gaze, a significant light appear=
ed
in the young woman's eyes, while her arm fell to her side.
"Now to see Presumption sue for pardon,&q=
uot;
she whispered to herself.
One by one the company, too, turned in the
direction Triboulet was looking. In
portraiture the classical buffoon grinned and gibed at them from the tapest=
ry;
and even from his high station above the clouds Jupiter, who had ejected the
offending fool of the gods, looked less stern and implacable. An expectant hush fell upon the
assemblage, when suddenly Jove and Momus alike were unceremoniously thrust
aside, and, as the folds fell slowly back, before the many-hued curtain sto=
od a
man of stately and majestic mien.
A man whose appearance caused deep-seated
consternation, whose forbidding aspect made the very silence portentous and
terrifying. With dress slashed and laced, rich in jewelry and precious ston=
es,
he remained motionless, regarding the motley gathering, while an ominous ha=
lf-smile
played about his features. He=
said
nothing, but his reserve was more sinister than language. Capricious, cruel was his face; in=
his
eyes shone covert enjoyment of the situation.
Would he never speak? With one hand he stroked his beard=
; with
the other he toyed with the lace on his doublet.
"You were talking, children," he sai=
d,
finally, "before I came in."
"If your Majesty," ventured Triboule=
t,
"has heard all, your Majesty will not blame--us!" And he glanced malevolently toward=
the
duke's Jester, who, upon the king's abrupt entrance, had descended from the=
platform.
Observing the emblazoned arms of Charles V upon
the dress of the culprit, a faint look of surprise swept Francis' face. Did it recall that fatal day, when=
on
the field of battle, a rival banner had waved ever illusively; ever beyond =
his
reach? Now it shone before hi=
m as though
mocking his friendship for his one-time powerful enemy, the only man he fea=
red,
the emperor who had overthrown him.
The sinister smile of the king gave way to gloomy thoughtfulness.
"Who is this knave?" he asked at len=
gth,
fixedly regarding the erstwhile badge of his defeat.
"A poor fool, Sire!" replied the
kneeling man.
"Those arms, embroidered on your dress--w=
hat
do they mean?" said the king shortly.
"The arms of my master's master, your
Majesty!" was the over-confident answer.
"Who is your master?"
"The Duke of Friedwald, Sire, the betroth=
ed
of the Princess Louise."
"And your purpose here?"
"My master sent me to the princess. 'I'll miss thee, rogue,' said he. =
''Tis
proof of love to send thee, my merry companion of the wine cup! But go! Nature hath formed thee to conjure
sadness from a lady's face.' =
So I
set out upon my perilous journey, and, favored by fortune, am but safely
arrived. I was e'en now about=
to
repair to the princess, whom I trust, in my humble way, to amuse."
"And thou shalt!" said the king,
significantly.
"Oh, your Majesty!" with assumed
modesty.
"That is," added Francis, "if it
will amuse her to see you hanged!"
"And if it did not amuse her, Sire?"
spoke up the new-comer, without a tremor in his voice.
"What then?" asked the king.
"It would be a breach of hospitality to h=
ang
me, the servant of the duke who is servant of Charles V!" he replied
boldly.
Francis started. Like a menace shone the arms of the
great emperor. Vividly he recalled his own humiliation, his long captivity,=
and
mistrusted the power of his subtile, amiable friend-enemy. Friendship? Sweeter was hatred.
"What say you, fool?"
"Your Majesty," answered the eager
dwarf, "could hang him without breach of hospitality."
"How do you make that good, Triboulet?&qu=
ot;
asked the monarch.
"The duke has given him to the princess.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The princess is a subject of your
Majesty. The king of France h=
as
jurisdiction over the princess' fool and surely can proceed in so small a
matter as hanging him."
Francis bent a malignant look upon the young
man. Behind the dwarf stood t=
he
jestress, now an earnest spectator of the scene.
"This new-comer's stay with us promises t=
o be
brief, Caillette," she whispered.
"Hark, you witch! He answers," returned the poe=
t.
"What can he say?" she retorted,
shrugging her shoulders. &quo=
t;He
is already condemned."
"Are you pleased, mistress? Just because the poor fellow stare=
d at
you overmuch."
"Oh," she said, insensibly, "it=
was
written he should hang himself. Now we'll hear how ably Audacity parleys wi=
th
Fate."
"It would be no breach of hospitality, Si=
re,
to hang the princess' fool," spoke the condemned man with no sign of
waning confidence, "yet it would seem to depreciate the duke's gift. Your Majesty should hang the one a=
nd
spare the other. 'Tis a matte=
r of
logic," he went on quickly, "to point out where the duke's gift e=
nds
and the princess' fool begins. A
gift is a gift until it is received.
The princess has not yet received the duke's gift. Therefore, your Majesty can not ha=
ng me,
as the princess' fool; nor would your Majesty desire to hang me as the duke=
's
gift."
Imperceptibly the monarch's mien relaxed, for =
next
to a contest with blades he liked the quick play of words.
"Answer him, Triboulet," he said.
"Your Majesty--your Majesty--" stamm=
ered
the dwarf, and paused in despair, his wits failing him at the critical
juncture.
"Enough!" commanded the king,
sternly. A sound of suppressed
merriment even as he spoke startled the gathering. "Who laughed?" he cried =
suddenly. "Was it you, mistress?"
fastening his eyes upon the young woman.
Her head fell lower and lower like some dark
flower on a slender stem. From out of the veil of her mazy hair came a voic=
e,
soft with seeming humility.
"It might have been Jocko, Sire," she
said. "He sometimes laug=
hs
like that."
The king looked from the woman to the bird; th=
en
from the bird to the woman, a gleam of recollection in his glance.
"Humph!" he muttered. "Is this where you serve your
mistress? Look to it you serv=
e not
yourself ill!"
An instant her eyes flashed upward.
"My mistress is at prayers," she
answered, and looked down again as quickly.
"And you meanwhile prefer the drollery of
these madcaps to the attentions of our courtiers?" said Francis, more
gently. "Certes are you
gipsy-born!"
Her hands clasped tighter, but she answered no=
t,
and he turned more sternly to the new king of the motley. "As for you," he continue=
d, "for
the present the duke's gift is spared.&nbs=
p;
But let the princess' fool look to himself. Remember, a guarded tongue insures=
a
ripe old age, and even a throne in Fools' hall is fraught with hazard. Here! some of you, take this"=
--indicating
the sleeping Rabelais--"and throw it into the horse-pond. Yet see that he does not drown--yo=
ur
heads upon it! 'Tis to him France looks for learning."
He paused; glanced back at the kneeling girl.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> "You, Mistress Who-Seeks-to-H=
ide-Her-Face,
teach that parrot not to laugh!" he added grimly.
The tapestry waved. Mute the motley throng stared wher=
e the
king had stood. A light hand
touched the arm of the duke's fool, and, turning, he beheld the young woman;
her eyes were alight with new fire.
"In God's name," she exclaimed,
passionately, "let us leave.
You have done mischief enough.
Follow me."
"Where'er you will," he responded
gallantly.
The sun and the breeze contended with the mist,
intrenched in the stronghold of the valley. From the east the red orb began its
attack; out of the west rode the swift-moving zephyrs, and, vanquished, the=
wavering
vapor stole off into thin air, or hung in isolated wreaths above the foliag=
e on
the hillside. Soon the conque=
ring
light brightly illumined a medieval castle commanding the surrounding count=
ry;
the victorious breeze whispered loudly at its gloomy casements. A great Norman structure, somber,
austere, it was, however brightened with many modern features that threaten=
ed
gradually to sap much of its ancient majesty.
"Fill up the moat," Francis had
ordered. "'Tis barbaric!=
What lover would sigh beneath walls
thirty feet thick! And the
portcullis! Away with it! Summon my Italian painters to ador=
n the
walls. We may yet make habita=
ble
these legacies from the savage, brutal past."
So the mighty walls, once set in a comparative
wilderness, a tangle of thicket and underbrush, now arose from garden, lawn=
and
park, where even the deer were no longer shy, and the water, propelled by
artificial power, shot upward in jets.
Seated at a window which overlooked this sylvan
aspect, modified if not fashioned by man, a young woman with seeming
conscientiousness, told her beads.
The apartment, though richly furnished, was in keeping with the devo=
ut
character of its fair mistress. A
brush or aspersorium, used for sprinkling holy water, was leaning against t=
he
wall. Upon a table lay an open
psalter, with its long hanging cover and a ball at the extremity of the
forel. Behind two tall candle=
sticks
stood an altar-table which, being unfolded, revealed three compartments, ea=
ch
with a picture, painted by Andrea del Sarto, the once honored guest of Fran=
cis.
The Princess Louise, cousin of Francis' former
queen, Claude, had been reared with rigid strictness, although provided with
various preceptors who had made her more or less proficient in the profane
letters, as they were then called, Latin, Greek, theology and philosophy. The fame of her beauty had gone ab=
road;
her hand had been often sought, but the obdurate king had steadfastly refus=
ed
to sanction her betrothal until Charles, the emperor, himself proposed a un=
ion
between the fair ward of the French monarch and one of his nobles, the young
Duke of Friedwald. To this Fr=
ancis
had assented, for he calculated upon thus drawing to his interests one of h=
is
rival's most chivalrous knights, while far-seeing Charles believed he could=
not
only retain the duke, but add to his own court the lovely and learned ward =
of
the king.
And in this comedy of aggrandizement the puppe= ts were willing--as puppets must needs be.&nb= sp; Indeed, the duke was seriously enamored of the princess, whose portr= ait he had seen in miniature, and had himself importuned the emperor to interce= de with Francis, knowing that the only way to the lady's hand was through the = good offices of him who aspired to the mastery of all Europe, if not the world.<= o:p>
Charles, unwilling to disoblige one whose
principality was the most powerful of the Austrian provinces he sought to
absorb in his scheme for the unification of all nations, offered no demur t=
o a
request fraught with advantage to himself.=
Besides, cold and calculating though he was, the emperor entertained=
a
certain affection for the duke, who on one occasion, when Charles had been =
sore
beset by the troops of Solyman, had extricated his royal leader from the
alternatives of ignominious capture or an untimely end. Accordingly, a formal proposal, co=
uched
in language of warm friendship to the king, was despatched by the emperor.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> When Francis, with some misgiving,
arising from experience with womankind, laid the matter before Louise, she,=
to
his surprise, proved her devotion and loyalty by her entire submissiveness,=
and
the king, kissing her hand, generously vowed the wedding festivities should=
be
worthy of her beauty and fealty.
Was she thinking of that scene now and the many
messages which had subsequently passed between her distant lover and hersel=
f,
as the white fingers ceased to tell the beads? Was she questioning fate and the f=
uture
when the rosary fell from her hand and the clinking of the great glass bead=
s on
the hard floor aroused her from a reverie?=
Languidly she rose, crossed the room toward a low dressing table, wh=
en
at the same time one of the several doors of the apartment opened, admitting
the jestress, Jacqueline, whose long, flowing gown of dark green bore no
distinguishing mark of the motley she had assumed the night before. The dreamy, almost lethargic, gaze=
of
the princess rested for a moment upon the ardent eyes of the maid who stood
motionless before her.
"The duke's jester who arrived last night
awaits your pleasure without," said the girl.
"Bid him enter. Stay! The fillet for my hair. Seems he a merry fellow?"
"So merry, Madam, he mimicked the king la=
st
night in Fool's hall, beat Triboulet, appointed knaves in jest to high offi=
ces,
and had been hanged for his forwardness but that he narrowly saved his neck=
by
a slender device."
"What; all that in so short a time!"
exclaimed the princess. "=
;A
most presumptuous rogue!"
"The king, Madam, was behind the tapestry=
and
heard it all: his appointment of Thony as treasurer, because he is apt at
palming money; Brusquet, governor of Guienne, since he governs his own home=
so
ill; and Villot, admiral of the fleet, that he might sail away and leave hi=
s pretty
wife behind him."
"I'll warrant me the story is known to the
entire court ere this," laughed the lady. "Won't Madame d'Etaille be in=
a
temper! And the admiral when =
he
hears of it--on the high seas! The
king was eavesdropping, you say, and yet spared the jester? He must bear a charmed life."=
"He dubbed himself the duke's gift, Madam,
and boldly claimed privilege under the poor cloak of hospitality."
"Surely," murmured the princess,
"there will be no lack of entertainment with this knave under the same
roof. Too much entertainment,=
I
fear me. Well, admit the bold fellow."
Crossing to the door, the maid pushed it back =
and
the figure of the jester passed the threshold:--a figure so graceful and
well-built, the lady's eyes, turning toward him with mild inquiry, lingered
with approval; lingered, and were upraised to a fair, handsome face, when a=
pproval
gave way to wonder.
Was this the imprudent, hot-brained rogue who =
had
swaggered in Fools' hall, and made a farce of the affairs of the nation?
"You come from the Duke of Friedwald,
fool?" said the mistress, recovering from her surprise.
"Yes, Princess."
Louise smiled, and looked toward the maid as i=
f to
say: "Why, he's a model of decorum!" but the girl continued regar=
ding
the figures on the vase, seemingly indifferent to the scene before her.
"I hear, sirrah, but a poor account of yo=
ur
behavior last night," continued the princess. "You must have a care, or I s=
hall
send you back to the duke and command him to have you whipped. You have been here but overnight, =
yet
how many enemies have you made? The
king; the admiral, and--last but not least--a certain lady. Poor fool! you may have saved your=
neck,
but for how long? Fie! what an
account must I give of you to your master!"
"Ah, Madam," he answered quickly,
"you show me now the folly of it all."
"Let me see," she went on more gentl=
y,
"what we may do, since you are penitent? The king may forgive; the admiral
forget, but the lady--she will neither forget nor forgive. Fortunately, I think she fears to =
disoblige
me, and, if I let it be known you are an indispensable part of my
household--" she paused thoughtfully--"besides, she has a little =
secret
she would keep from the king. Yes;
the secret will save you!" And Louise smiled knowingly, as one who,
although most devout, perhaps had missed a few paters or credos in listenin=
g to
idle worldly gossip.
"Madam," he said, raising his head,
"you overwhelm me with your goodness."
"Oh, I like her not; a most designing
creature," returned the lady carelessly. "But you may rise. Hand me that embroidery," she=
added
when he had obeyed. "How=
do I
know the duke, my betrothed, whom I have never seen, has not sent you to re=
port
upon my poor charms? What if =
you
were only his emissary?"
"Princess," he answered, "I am =
but
a fool; no emissary. If I
were--"
"Well?"
She smiled indulgently at the open admiration
written so boldly upon his face, and, encouraged by her glance, he regarded=
her
swiftly, comprehensively; the masses of hair the fillet ill-confined; eyes,=
soft-lidded,
dreamy as a summer's day; a figure, pagan in generous proportions; a foot,
however, petite, Parisian, peeping from beneath a robe, heavy, voluminous,
vivid!
"If you were?" she suggested, passin=
g a
golden thread through the cloth she held.
"I would write him the miniature he has of
you told but half the truth."
"So you have seen the miniature? It lies carelessly about, no
doubt?" Yet her tone was not one of displeasure.
"The duke frequently draws it from his br=
east
to look at it."
"And so many handsome women in the kingdo= m, too!" laughed the princess. "A tiny, paltry bit of vellum!"<= o:p>
Her lips curled indulgently, as of a person su=
re
of herself. Did not the fool's
glance pay her that tribute to which she was not a stranger? Her lashes, suddenly lifted, met h=
is
fully, and drove his look, grown overbold, to cover. The princess smiled; she might well
believe the stories about him; yet was not ill-pleased. "Like master; like man!"=
says
the proverb. She continued to
survey the graceful figure, well-poised head and handsome features of the
jester.
"Tell me, sirrah," she continued,
"of the duke.
Straightforwardly, or--I'll leave thee to the mercy of madam the
admiral's wife! What is he li=
ke?"
"A fairly likely man!"
"'Tis what one says of a man when one can=
say
nothing else. He is not then =
very
handsome?"
"He has never been so considered!"
The princess' needle remained suspended, then
viciously plunged into the golden Cupid she was embroidering. "The king hath played with
me," she murmured. "=
;He
represented him as one of the most distinguished-appearing knights in the
emperor's domains. Is he dark=
or
light?" she went on.
"Dark."
"Tall?"
"Rather short."
"His eyes?" said the lady, after an
ominous pause.
"Brown."
"His manners?"
"Those of a soldier."
"His speech?"
"That of one born to command."
"Command!" returned the princess,
ironically. "Odious
word!"
"You, Madam," quickly answered the
jester, "he would serve."
A moment her glance challenged his, coldly,
proudly, and then her features softened.&n=
bsp;
The indolent look crept into her eyes once more; the tension of her =
lips
relaxed.
"Command and serve!" laughed the
princess. "A paradox, if=
not a
paragon, it seems! Not
handsome--probably ugly!--a soldier--full of oaths--a blusterer--strong in =
his
cups! What a list of
qualifications! Well"--with a sigh--"what must needs be must be!<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The emperor plays the rook; Francis
moves his pawn--my poor self. The
game, beyond the two moves, is naught to us. Perhaps we shall be sacrificed, on=
e or
both! What of that, if it's a draw, or one of the players checkmates the ot=
her--"
"But, Princess," cried the fool,
"he loves you! Passionately!--devotedly!--"
"A passing fancy for a painted
semblance!" said the lady, as rising she turned toward the casement, t=
he
golden Cupid falling from her lap to the floor. In the rhythmic ease of her moveme=
nt, in
her very attitude, was consciousness of her own power, but to the poet-jest=
er,
surrounded as he was by symbols of worship and devotion, her expressed
self-doubt seemed that of some saintly being, cloistered in the solitude of=
a
sanctuary.
"Nay," he answered swiftly, "he=
has
but to see you--with the sunlight in your hair--as I see you now! The pawn, Madam, would become a qu=
een;
his queen! What would matter =
to him
the game of Charles or Francis? Let
Charles grow greater, or Francis smaller.&=
nbsp;
His gain would be--you!"
The fingers of the maid who sat at the far end=
of
the room ceased to caress the silver vase; her hands were tightly clasped
together; in her dark eyes was an ironical light, as her gaze passed from t=
he
jester to her mistress. Almost
motionless stood the princess until he had finished; motionless it would ha=
ve
seemed but for the chain on her breast, which rose and fell with her
breathing. From the jeweled n=
etwork
which half-bound her hair shone flashes of light; a tress which escaped the
glittering environment lay like a serpent of gold upon the crimson of her g=
own
where the neck softly uprose. A
hue, delicately rich as the tinted leaves of orange blossoms, mantled her
cheeks.
She shook her head in soft dissent. "Queen for how long?" she
answered gently. "As lon=
g as
gentle Claude was queen for Francis?
As long as saintly Eleanor held undisputed sway?"
"As long as Eleanor is queen in the heart=
s of
her people!" he exclaimed, passionately. "As long as France is her
bridegroom!"
Deliberately she half-turned, the coil of gold
falling over her shoulder. Near her hand, white against the dark casement, a
blood-red rose trembled at the entrance of her chamber, and, grasping it li=
ghtly,
she held it to her face as if its perfume symbolized her thoughts.
"Is there so much constancy in the
world?" she asked musingly.
"Can such singleness of heart exist? Like this flower which would bloom=
and
die at my window? A bold flow=
er,
though! Day by day has it been
growing nearer. Here," s=
he
added, breaking it from the stem and holding it to the jester.
"Madam!" he cried.
"Take it," she laughed, "and--s=
end
it to the duke!" Kneelin=
g, he received
it. "Thou art a fellow of
infinite humor indeed. Equall=
y at home
in a lady's boudoir, or a fools' drinking bout. Come, Jacqueline, Queen Marguerite
awaits our presence. She has =
a new
chapter to read, but whether another instalment of her tales, or a prayer f=
or
her Mirror of the Sinful Soul, I know not.=
As for you, sir"--with a parting smile--"later we shall wa=
lk
in the garden. There you may =
await
us."
"Well, Sir Mariner, do you not fear to
venture so far on a dangerous sea?" asked a mocking voice.
"A dangerous sea, fair Jacqueline?" =
he
replied, stroking the head of the hound which lay before the bench. "I see nothing save smiling f=
ields
and fragrant beds of flowers."
"Oh, I recognize now Monsieur Diplomat, n=
ot
Sir Mariner!" she retorted.
Beneath her head-dress, resembling in some deg=
ree
two great butterfly wings, her face looked smaller than its wont. Laced tight, after the fashion, the
cotte-hardie made her waist appear little larger than could be clasped by t=
he
hands of a soldier, while a silken-shod foot with which she tapped the grou=
nd
would have nestled neatly in his palm. Was it pique that moved her thus to
address the duke's jester? Si=
nce he
had arrived, Jacqueline had been relegated, as it were, to the corner. She, formerly ever first with the =
princess,
had perforce stood aside on the coming of the foreign fool whose company her
mistress strangely seemed to prefer to her own.
First had it been talking, walking and jesting=
, in
which last accomplishment he proved singularly expert, judging from the pea=
ls
of laughter to which her mistress occasionally gave vent. Then it had become riding, hawking=
and,
worst of all, reading. Lately
Louise, learned, as has been set forth, in the profane letters, had display=
ed a
marked favor for books of all kinds--The Tree of Battles, by Bonnet, the
Breviary of Nobles in verse, the "Livre des faits d'armes et de cheval=
erie,"
by Christine de Pisan; and in a secluded garden spot, with her fool and
servant, she sedulously pursued her literary labors.
As books were rare, being hand-printed and
hand-illumined, the princess' choice of volumes was not large, but Margueri=
te,
the king's sister, possessed some rarely executed poems--in their mechanica=
l aspect;
the monarch permitted her the use of several precious chronicles; while the
abbess in the convent near by, who esteemed Louise for her piety and
accomplishments, submitted to her care a gorgeously painted, satin-bound Li=
fe
of Saint Agnes, a Roman virgin who died under the sanguinary persecution of
Diocletian. But Jacqueline fr=
owningly
noticed that the saint's life lay idle--conspicuously, though fittingly, on=
the
altar-table--while a manuscript of the Queen of Navarre suspiciously
accompanied the jester when he sought the pleasant nook selected for reading
and conversation.
It was to this spot the maid repaired one soft
summer afternoon, where she found the fool and a volume--Marguerite's, by t=
he
purple binding and the love-knot in silver!--awaiting doubtless the coming =
of
the princess; and at the sight of them, the book of romance and the jester =
who
brought it, what wonder her patience gave way?
"You have been here now a fortnight, Mons=
ieur
Diplomat," she continued, bending the eyes which Triboulet so feared u=
pon
the other.
"Thirteen days, to be exact, sweet
Jacqueline!" he answered calmly.
"Indeed!=
Then there is some hope for you, if you've kept track of time,"=
she
returned pointedly.
Still he forbore to qualify his manner, save w=
ith
a latent smile that further exasperated the girl.
"What mean you, gentle mistress?" he
asked quietly, without even looking at her.
"'Sweet Jacqueline!' 'Gentle mistress!' you are profuse=
with
soft words!" she cried sharply.
"And yet they turn you not from anger.&qu=
ot;
"Anger!" she said, her eyes
flashing. "Not another m=
an at
court would dare to talk to me as you do."
At this he lifted his brows and surveyed her m=
uch
as one would a spoiled child, a glance that excited in her the same emotion=
she
had experienced the night of his arrival in Fools' hall, when he had contem=
plated
her in her garb of Joculatrix, as some misplaced anomaly.
"I know, mistress," he returned
ironically, "you have a reputation for sorcery. But I think it lies more in your e=
yes
than in the moon."
"And yet I can see the future for all
that," she replied, persistently, defiantly.
"The future?" he retorted, and looked
from the earth to the sky.
"What is the goal of yonder tiny cloud? Can you tell me that?"
"The goal?" she repeated, uplifting =
her
head. "Wait! It is very small. The sun is already swallowing it
up."
"Heigho!" yawned the jester,
outstretching his yellow-pointed boot, "I catch not the moral to the
fable--an there be one!
"The moral!" she said, quickly. "Ask Marot."
"Why Marot?" Balancing the stick with the fool'=
s head
in his hand.
"Because he dared love Queen
Marguerite!" she answered impetuously. "The fool in motley; the l=
ady
in purple! How he jested at h=
er
wedding! How he wept when he thought himself alone!"
"He had but himself to blame,
Jacqueline," returned the other with composure, although his eyes were=
now
bent straight before him. &qu=
ot;He could
not climb to her; she could not stoop to him. Yet I daresay, it was a mad dream =
he
would not have foregone."
"Not have foregone!" she exclaimed,
quickly. "What would he =
not
have given to tear it from his breast; aye, though he tore his heart with i=
t! That day, bright and fair, when He=
nry
d'Albret, King of Navarre, took her in his arms and kissed her brow! When amid gay festivities she beca=
me his
bride! Not have foregone? Yes; Marot would forego that day--=
and
other days."
Still that inertia; that irritating
immobility. "What a trag=
ic
tale for a summer day!" was his only comment.
"And Caillette!" she continued,
rapidly. "Distinguished =
in
mien, graceful in manner. In =
the
house of his patron, he dared look up to that nobleman's daughter, Diane de
Poitiers. A dream; a youthful=
dream! Enter Monsieur de Bréz&eacu=
te;,
grand seneschal of Normandy. =
Shall
I tell you the rest? How Cail=
lette
stares, moody, knitting his brows at his cups! Of what is the jester thinking?&qu=
ot;
"Whether the grand seneschal will let him
sleep with the spaniels, Jacqueline, or turn him out," laughed the jes=
ter.
Angrily she clasped her hands before her. "Is it the way your mind would
move?" she retorted.
"A jester without a roof to cover him is =
like
a dog without a kennel, mistress."
Disdain, contempt, rapidly crossed her face, b=
ut
her lip curved knowingly and her voice came more gently, because of the gre=
ater
sting that lay behind her words.
"You but seek to flout me from my tale,&q=
uot;
she said sweetly. "Caill=
ette is
none such, as you know. They =
were
young together. 'Twas said he=
confessed
his love; that tokens passed between them.=
Rhymes he writ to her; a flower, perhaps, she gave him. A flower he yet cherishes, mayhap;
dried, faded, yet plucked by her!"
Involuntarily the hand of her listener touched=
his
breast, the first sign he had made that her story moved him. Jacqueline, watching him keenly, s=
miled,
and demurely looked away. Her=
next
words seemed to dance from her lips, as with head bent, like a butterfly
poised, she addressed her remark to vacancy.
"A flower for himself, no doubt! Not given him for another!"
Whereupon she turned in time to catch the burn=
ing
flush which flamed his cheek and left it paler than she had ever seen it. At this first signal of her
success--proving that he was not impregnable to her attack--she hummed a li=
ttle
song and beat time on the sward with a green-shod foot.
"What mean you?" he asked, momentari=
ly
dropping his unruffled manner.
"Not much!" Lightly she tripped to a bush, bro=
ke off
a flower and regarded it mischievously.&nb=
sp;
"Why should people hide that which is so sweet and fragrant?&qu=
ot;
she remarked, and set the rose in her hair.
"Hide?" he said, looking at the flow=
er,
but not at her.
"I trust you kept the rose, Monsieur
Diplomat?" she spoke up, suddenly, her expression most serious.
"What rose?" he asked, now become
restless beneath her cutting tongue.
"What rose! As if you did not know! How innocent you look! How many roses are there in the
world? A thousand? Or only one? What rose? Her rose, of course.
This, then, was the information she had taken =
such
a roundabout way to communicate! It
was to this end she had purposely led the conversation by adroit stages,
studying him gaily, impatiently or maliciously, as she marked the effect of=
her
words upon him. All alive, she
stepped back laughing; elate, she put her arms about a branch of the rose-b=
ush and
drew a score of roses to her bosom, as though she were a witch, impervious =
to
thorns. He had risen--yes, th=
ere
was no doubt about it!--but her sunny face was turned to the flowers. His countenance became at once puz=
zled
and thoughtful.
"The duke--coming--" He condescended to ask for informa=
tion
now.
Sidewise she gazed at him, unrelenting. "Does the flower become me?&q=
uot; she
asked.
"The duke--coming--" he repeated.
"How impolite! To refuse me a compliment!" s=
he
flashed.
The next moment he was by her side, and had ta=
ken
her arm, almost roughly.
"Speak out!" he cried.&nb=
sp;
"Some one is coming!
What duke is coming?"
"You hurt me!" she exclaimed,
angrily. He loosened his gras=
p.
"What duke?" she answered
scornfully. "Her duke! Your duke! The emperor's duke!"
"The Duke of Friedwald?" he asked.
"Of course! The princess' fiancé;
bridegroom-to-be; future husband, lord and master," she explained, with
indubious and positive iteration.
"But the time--set for the wedding---has =
not
expired," he protested with what she thought seemed a suspicion that s=
he
was playing with him.
"That is easily answered," she said
cheerfully. "The duke, it
seems, has become more and more enamored.&=
nbsp;
Finally his passion has so grown and grown he fears to let it grow a=
ny
more, and, as the only way out of the difficulty, petitioned the king to
curtail the time of probation and relieve him of the constantly augmenting
suspense. To which his most
gracious Majesty, having been a lover himself (on divers occasions) and
measuring the poor fellow's troubles by the qualms he has himself experienc=
ed,
has seen generously fit to cut off a few weeks of waiting and set the weddi=
ng
for the near future."
"How know you this?" he demanded,
sharply, striding to and fro.
"This morning the princess sent me with a
message to the Countess d'Etampes.
You know her? You have
heard? She has succeeded the =
Countess
of Châteaubriant. Well,=
the
king was with her--not the Countess of Châteaubriant, but the other o=
ne,
I mean. They left poor me to =
await
his Majesty's pleasure, and, as the Countess d'Etampes has but newly succee=
ded
to her present exalted position and the king has not yet discovered her many
imperfections, I should certainly have fallen asleep for weariness had I not
chanced to overhear portions of their conversation. The Countess d'Etampes, it seemed,=
was
very angry. 'Your Majesty promised to send her home,' she said. 'But, my dear, give me time,' plea=
ded
the king. 'Pack her off at on=
ce,'
she demanded, raising her voice.
'Send her to her husband.
That's where she belongs.
Think of him, poor fellow!'
Laughing, his Majesty capitulated.&=
nbsp;
'Well, well, back to her castle goes the Countess of Châteaubr=
iant!' Thereupon--"
"But the duke, mistress," interrupted
the jester, who had become more and more impatient during the prolonged
narration. "The duke?&qu=
ot;
"Am I not to tell it in my own way?"=
she
returned. "What manners =
you have! First, you pinch my arm until I mu=
st
needs cry out. Then you ask a
question and interrupt me before I can answer."
"Interrupt!" he muttered. "You might have told a dozen
tales. What care I for the ki=
ng's
Jezebels?"
"Jezebels!" she repeated, in mock
horror. "I see plainly, =
if you
don't die one way, you will another."
"'Tis usually the case. But go on with your story."
"If I can not tell it in my own way--&quo=
t;
"Tell it as you will, if your way be as s=
low
as your tongue is sharp," he answered sullenly.
"Sharp!&=
nbsp;
Jezebels! You deserve =
not to
hear, but--the king, it seems, had laid the duke's request before the Count=
ess
d'Etampes. 'Here is an impati=
ent
suitor,' he said gaily. 'How =
shall
we cure his passion?' 'By marrying him,' blithely answered this
light-of-love. ''Tis a medici=
ne
that never fails!' His Majesty
frowned; I could not see him, but felt sure of it from his tone, for althou=
gh
he neglects the queen, yet, to some degree, is mindful of her dignity. 'Marriage is a holy state, Madam,'=
he
replied severely. 'There's no=
doubt
about it, Francis,' returned the lady, 'and therefore is the antidote to
passion. But a man bent on matrimony is like a child that wants a toy. Better give it to him at once--the
plaything will the sooner be thrown aside!' 'Nay, Madam,' he said reproving=
ly,
'the duke shall have his wish, but for no such reason.' 'What reason then?' quoth she,
petulantly. 'Because thou hast shown me love is a monarch stronger than any
king and that we are but as slaves in its hands!' he exclaimed, passionatel=
y. 'I know I shall like the duke,' cr=
ied
she, 'since he is the cause of that pretty speech.'
"At this point, not daring to listen long=
er,
I coughed; there was silence; then the countess herself appeared at the door
and looked at me sharply. Wit=
h such
grace as I could command, I delivered my message, left the house and was
hurrying through the garden when chance threw you in my way. And now you have it all, sir."=
;
"The princess--has she heard the king has
received a letter from the duke, and that his Majesty has changed the weddi=
ng
date?"
The jester spoke slowly, but Jacqueline was
assured that beneath his deliberate manner surged deep and conflicting
emotions; that his calmness was no more than a mask to conceal his pain.
"The princess knows; has heard all from t=
he
king. Not long since he sent =
for
her. Will she consent? What else can she do? 'Tis the monarch who commands; we =
who
obey!"
"Is the court then only a mart, a
guildhall?" he exclaimed.
"A woman--even a princess--should be won, not--exchanged!"=
Her lashes drooped; in her gaze shone once more
the ironical amusement. "Why," she said, "from what wilds, or
forests, have you come? The h=
eart
follows where the trader lists!
Think you the princess will wear the willow?" she laughed. "How well you know women!&quo=
t;
"Do you mean that she--"
"I mean that her welfare is in strong han=
ds;
that there will be few greater in all the land; none more honored! The duke's principality is vast--b=
ut
here comes the princess." The
hound sprang to his feet and ran gamboling down the path. "Ask her the rest yourself, m=
ost Unsophisticated
Fool! Ah,"--with a touch=
she
could not resist--"what a handsome bride she will make for the duke!&q=
uot;
=
Through the flowery path, so narrow her gown
brushed the leaves on either side, the Princess Louise appeared, walking
slowly. A head-dress, heart-s=
haped,
held her hair in its close confines; the gown of cloth-of-silver damask fit=
ted
closely to her figure, and, from the girdle, hung a long pendent end,
elaborately enriched. With sh=
ort, sharp
barks, the dog bounded before her, but the hand usually extended to caress =
the
animal remained at her side.
Intently the jester watched her draw near and =
ever
nearer, their common trysting spot, her favorite garden nook. A handsome bride, forsooth, as
Jacqueline had suggested. All=
in
white was she now; a glittering white, with silver adornment; ravishingly
hymeneal. A bride for a duke-=
-or a
king--more stately than the queen; handsomer than the favorite of favorites=
who
ruled the king and France.
"Jacqueline," she said, evincing nei=
ther
surprise nor any other emotion, as she approached, "go and fetch my
fan. I believe 'tis in the ki=
ng's
ante-chamber."
"Madam carried no fan when"--began t=
he
girl.
"Then 'tis somewhere else. Do not bandy words, but find it.&q=
uot;
Sinking on the bench as the maid walked quickly
away, she remained for some moments in silent thought,--a reverie the jester
forbore to disturb. Her head =
rested
on her arm, from which fell the flowing sleeve almost to the ground; her wr=
ist
was lightly inclasped by a slender golden band of delicate Byzantine enamel
work; over the sculptured form of the stone griffin that constituted one of=
the
supports of the ancient Norman bench flowed the voluminous folds of her dre=
ss,
partly concealing the monster from view.&n=
bsp;
Against the clambering ivy which for centuries had reveled in this
chosen spot, and which the landscape gardeners of Francis had wisely spared,
lay her hand, a small ring of curious workmanship gleaming from her
finger. The ring caused the j=
ester
to start, remembering he had last seen it worn by the king.
Truly, the capricious, but august, monarch must
have been well pleased with the complaisance of his fair ward, and the face=
of
the fool, glowing and eager, became on the instant hard and cold. Did he experience now the first pa=
ngs of
that sorrow Jacqueline had vividly portrayed as the love-portion of Marot a=
nd
Caillette? Faintly the ivy wh=
ispered
above the princess, telling perhaps of other days when, centuries gone by, =
some
Norman lady had been wooed and won, or wooed and lost, in the shadow of the
griffin, which, silent, sphinx-like, yet endured through the ages.
Idly the Princess Louise plucked a leaf from t=
he old,
old vine, picked it apart and let the pieces float away. As they fluttered and fell at the
jester's feet she regarded him with thoughtful blue eyes.
"How far is it," she asked, "to=
the
duke's principality?"
If he had doubted the maid's story, he was now
convinced. The ring and her
question confirmed Jacqueline's narrative.=
Moodily he surveyed the great claws of the griffin, firmly planted on
the earth, and then looked from the feet to the laughing mouth of the stone
figure, or so much of it as the shining dress left uncovered.
"About fifteen days' journey, Princess,&q=
uot;
he replied.
"No farther?"
"Barring accidents, it may be made in that
time."
She did not notice how dull was his tone; how =
he
avoided her gaze. Blind to him, she turned the ring around and around on her
finger, as though her thoughts were concentrated on it.
"Accidents," she repeated, her hand =
now
motionless. "Is the way =
perilous?"
"The country is most unsettled."
"What do you mean by unsettled?" she
continued, bending forward with fingers clasped over her knees. Supinely she waved a foot back and=
forth,
showing and then withdrawing the point of a jeweled slipper, and a suggesti=
on
of lavender in silk network above.
"What do you call unsettled?"
"The country is infested with many roving
bands commanded by the so-called independent barons who owe allegiance to
neither king nor emperor," he answered. "Their homes are perched, like
eagles' nests, upon some mountain peak that commands the valleys travelers =
must
proceed through. A fierce, un=
tamed
crew, bent on rapine and murder!"
"Did you encounter any such?" Gently=
.
"Ofttimes."
"And left unscathed?"
"Because I was a jester, Madam; something
less than man; a lordling's slave; a woman's plaything! Their sentinels shared with me the=
ir flasks;
I slept before their signal fires, and even supped in the heart of their st=
one
fastnesses. Fools and monks a=
re
safe among them, for the one amuses and the other absolves their sins. Yet is there one free baron,"=
he
added reflectively, "whom even I should have done well to avoid; he, t=
he
most feared, the most savage!
Louis, the bastard of Pfalz-Urfeld!"
"Have you ever met him?" asked the
princess, in a mechanical tone.
"No," with a short laugh. "A few of his knaves I encoun=
tered,
however, whose conduct shamed the courtesy of the other mountain rogues. For a moment it was cut and thrust=
--not
jest and gibe; the suddenness of the attack surprised them, and before they
could digest the humor of it the fool had slipped away."
She leaned inertly back against the soft cushi=
on
of ivy. In the shadow the tin=
t on
her cheeks deepened, but below the sunlight played about her shoulders thro=
ugh
leafy interspace, or crept in dancing spots down over her gown and arms.
"The duke would not be molested by these
outlaws?" she continued, pursuing her line of questioning.
"The duke has a strong arm," he answ=
ered
cautiously. "They may be=
well content
to permit him to come and go as he sees fit."
"Well, well," she said, perversely,
"I was only curious about the distance and the country."
"For leagues the land is wild, bleak,
inhospitable, and then 'tis level, monotonous, deserted, so lonely the song
dies on the wandering minstrel's lips.&nbs=
p;
But the duke rides fast with his troop and soon would cover the moun=
tain
paths and dreary wastes."
"Nay," she interrupted impatiently,
"I asked not how the duke would ride."
"I thought you wished to know,
Princess," he replied, humbly.
"You thought"--she began angrily,
sitting erect.
"I know, Princess; a fool should but jest,
not think."
"Why do you cross me to-day?" she
demanded petulantly. "Ca=
n you
not see--"
Abruptly she rose; impatiently moved away; but=
a
few steps, however, when she turned, her face suddenly free from annoyance,=
in
her eyes a soft decision.
"There!" she exclaimed with a smile,
half-arch, half-repentant.
"How can any one be angry on such a day--all sunshine, butterfl=
ies
and flowers!"
He did not reply, and, mistress once more of
herself, she drew near.
"What a contrast to the stuffy palace, wi=
th
all the courtiers, ministers and lap-dogs!" she went on. "Here one can breathe. But how shall we make the most of =
such a
day? Stroll into the forest; =
sit by
the fountain; run over the grass?"
Her voice was softer than it had been; her wor=
ds
fraught with suggestions of exhilarating companionship. Did she note their effect? At any =
rate,
she laughed lightly.
"But how," she resumed, surveying the
great enfolding skirt, "could one trip the sward with this monstrous g=
own,
weighted with wreaths of silver? Is
it not but one of the many penalties of high birth? Oh, for the short skirts of the
lowly! What comfort to be arr=
ayed
like Jacqueline!"
"And she, Princess, doubtless thinks like=
wise
of more gorgeous apparel." His
heart beat faster as he strove to answer her in kind.
"A waste of cloth in vanity, as saith Mas=
ter
Calvin!" she replied, lifting her arms that shone with creamy softness
from the dangling folds of heavy silk.&nbs=
p;
"Were it not for this courtly encumbrance, I should propose goi=
ng
into the fields with the haymakers.
You may see them now--look!--through the opening in the foliage.&quo=
t;
With an expression, part resignation, part reg=
ret,
she leaned against the wind-worn griffin which formed the arm of the
bench. Fainter sounded the wa=
rning
of the jestress in the ears of the duke's fool; so faint it became but a we=
ak
admonition. More and more he
abandoned himself to the pleasure of the moment.
"To make the most of the day," the
princess had said.
How?
By denying himself the sight of her ever-varying grace; by refusing =
to
yield to the charm of her voice. He
raised his head more boldly; through her drooping lashes a lazy light shot
forth upon him, and the shadow of a smile seemed to say: "That is
better. When the mistress is
indulgent, a fool should not be unbending.=
A melancholy jester is but poor company."
And so her mood swayed his; he forgot his
resolution, his pride, and yielded to the infatuation of the moment. But when he endeavored to call the
weapons of his office to his aid, her glance and the shadow of that smile l=
eft
him witless. Jest, fancy and =
whim
had taken flight.
"Well?" she said. "Well, Sir Fool?"
His color shifted; withal his half-embarrassme=
nt,
there was something graceful and noble in his bearing.
"Madam"--he began, and stopped for w=
ant
of matter to put into words.
But if the princess was annoyed at the new-fou=
nd
dullness of her plaisant, her manner did not show it.
"What," she said, gently; "no n=
ews
from the court; no word of intrigue; no story of the king? I should seek a courtier for my
companion, not a jester. But
there! What book have you
brought?" indicating the volume that lay upon the bench.
"Guillaume de Lorris's 'Romance of the
Rose,'" he answered, more freely.
"Where did we leave off?"
"Where the hero, arriving at a fountain,
beheld a beautiful rose tree," said the fool in a low tone. "Desiring the rose, he reache=
d to
gather it--"
"Yes, I remember. And then, Reason and Danger did ba=
ttle
with Love."
"Is it your wish we continue?" he as=
ked,
taking the book in his hand.
"I would fain learn if he gathers his
rose. Nay, sit here on the be=
nch and
I"--brightly--"may look over your shoulder ever and anon, to stea=
l a
glimpse of the pretty pictures."
Unquestioningly, he obeyed her, the book,
illumined, gleaming in the sunshine; the letters, red, gold, many-hued, dan=
cing
before them. Love in crimson,=
the
five silver shafts of Cupid, the Tower of Jealousy, a frowning fortress, the
Rose, incentive for endless striving and endeavor--all floated by on the cr=
eamy
parchment leaves. So interest=
ed was
she in these wondrous pages, executed with such precision and perfection, w=
ith
marginal adornment, and many a graceful turn and fancy in initial letter and
tail-piece, she seemed to him for the moment rather some simple lowly maiden
than a proud princess of the realm.
"How much splendor the penman has
shown!" she murmured, her breath on his cheek. "'Tis more beautiful than the=
'Life
of Saint Agnes.' Is not that =
figure
well done? A hard, austere ol=
d man;
Reason, I believe, in monkish attire."
"Reason, or Duty, ever partakes of the
monastery," he retorted with a short, mirthless laugh.
"Duty; obedience!" she broke in. "Do I not know them? Please turn the page."
Reaching over, she herself did so, her fingers
touching his, her bosom just brushing his shoulder; and then she flushed, f=
or
it was Venus's self the page revealed, standing on a grassy bank and showing
Love the rose. Around the que=
en of
beauty floated a silver gauze; her hair was indicated by threads of gold to=
ssed
luxuriantly about her; upon the shoulder of Love rested her hand, encouragi=
ng
him in his quest. Most zealou=
sly
had the monk-artist executed the lovely lady, as though some heart-dream fl=
owed
from the ink on his pen, every line exact, each feature radiantly shown.
From the book and the picture, the jester, fee=
ling
the princess draw back impulsively, dared look up, and, looking up, could n=
ot
look down from a loveliness surpassing the idealization on vellum of a monk=
ish dream. From head to foot, the sunlight ba=
thed
the princess, glistening in her hair until it was alive with light. Even when he gazed into her blue e=
yes he
was conscious of a more flaming glory than lay in the heavens of their dept=
hs;
a splendent maze that shed a brightness around her.
"Oh, Princess," he said, wildly, &qu=
ot;I
know what the king hath told you! Why you wear the monarch's ring!"
"The monarch's ring!" she repeated, =
as
recalled suddenly from wandering thought.&=
nbsp;
"Why--how know you--ah, Jacqueline--"
"And a ring signifieth consent. You will fulfill the king's
desire?"
"The king's desire?" she replied,
mechanically. "Is it not=
the
will of God?"
"But your own heart?" he cried, hold=
ing
her with his eager gaze.
She laid her hand on his shoulder; her eyes
answered his. Did she not rea=
lize
the tragedy the future held for him?
Or did to-morrow seem far off, and the present become her greater
concern? Was hers the philoso=
phy of
Marguerite's code which taught that the sweets of admiration should be gath=
ered
on the moment? That a cry of =
pain
from a worshiping heart, however lowly, was honeyed flattery to Love's vota=
ries? As the jester looked at her a sudd=
en
chill seized his breast.
Jacqueline's mocking laughter rang in his ears. "Ask her the rest yourself, m=
ost
Unsophisticated Fool!"
"Then you will obey the king?" he
persisted, dully.
"Why," she answered, smiling and ben=
ding
nearer, "will you spoil the day?"
"You would give yourself to a man, whethe=
r or
not you loved him?"
A frown gathered on the princess' brow, but she
stooped, herself picked up the book he had dropped, brushed the earth from =
it
and seated herself upon the bench.
Her manner was quiet, resolute; her action, a rebuke to the forward
fool.
"Will you not read?" she said, with =
an
inscrutable look.
"True," he exclaimed, rising quickly,
"I was sent to amuse--"
"And you have found me a too exacting
mistress?" she asked, more gently, checking the implied reproach.
"Exacting!" he repeated.
"What then?" she said, half sadly.
"Nothing," he answered.
But in his mind Jacqueline's scornful words
reiterated themselves: "Think you the princess will wear the willow?&q=
uot;
Taking the book, he opened it at random,
mechanically sinking at her feet.
The quest, the idle quest!
Was it but an awakening? So
far lay the branch above his reach!
His voice rose and fell with the mystic rhythm of the meter, now
dwelling on death and danger, the shortness of life, the sweetness of passi=
on;
then telling the pleasures of the dance.
Lower fell the princess' hand until it touched=
the
reader's head; touched and lingered.
Before the fool's eyes the letters of the book became blurred and th=
en
faded away. Doubt, misgiving,=
fear,
vanished on the moment. The f=
lower
she had given him seemed to burn on his heart. He forgot the decree of the king; =
her
equivocation; the unanswered question.&nbs=
p;
Passionately he thrust his hand into his doublet.
"The rose and love are one," he
cried. "The rose is--&qu=
ot;
"Pardon me, Madam," said a voice, and
Jacqueline, clear-eyed, calm, stood before them; "the fan was not in t=
he
king's ante-chamber, or I should have been here sooner. I trust you have not been put out =
for want
of it?"
"Not at all, Jacqueline," returned h=
er
mistress, with a natural, tranquil movement,
"although"--sharply--"you were gone longer than you should h=
ave
been!"
=
Proficient as a poet, bold as a soldier, adroi=
t as
a statesman, the king was, nevertheless, most fitted for the convivial role=
of
host, and no part that he played in his varied repertoire afforded such opp=
ortunity
for the nice display of his unusual talents. History hath sneered at his rhymes=
as
flat, stale and unprofitable; upon the bloody field he had been defeated and
subsequently imprisoned; clever in diplomacy, the sagacity of his opponent,
Charles, had in truth overmatched him; yet as the ostentatious Boniface, in
grand bib and tucker, prodigal in joviality and good-fellowship, his reputa=
tion
rests without a flaw.
In anticipation of the arrival of the duke and=
his
suite, the monarch had ordered a series of festivities and entertainments s=
uch
as would gratify his desire for pageantry and display, and at the same time=
do honor
to a guest who was to espouse one of France's fairest wards. To the castle repaired tailors,
embroiderers and goldsmiths to make and devise garments for knights, ladies,
lords and esquires and for the trapping, decking and adorning of coursers,
jennets and palfries. Bales of silks and satins had been long since conveyed
thither from distant Paris, in anticipation of the coming marriage; and the=
old
Norman castle that had once resounded with the clashing of arms, the snap of
the cross-bow and the clang of the catapult now echoed with the merry stir =
and
flurry of peace; a bee-hive of activity wherein were no drones; marshal, gr=
and
master, chancellor and grand chamberlain preparing for mysteries and hunting
parties; dowagers, matrons and maids making ready for balls and other pasti=
mes.
With this new influx of population to the plea=
sure
palace came a plentiful sprinkling of wayside minstrels, jugglers, mounteba=
nks,
dulcimer and lute players, street poets who sang the praises of some fair
cobbleress or pretty sausage girl; scamps of students from the Paris haunts=
of
vice, loose fellows who conned the classical poets by day and took a purse =
by night;
dancers, dwarfs, and merry men all, not averse to--
"Haunch and ham, and cheek and chine While they gurgled their thro=
ats
with right good wine."
=
Here
sauntered a wit-cracker, a peacock feather in his hand, arm-in-arm with an
impoverished "banquet beagle," or "feast hound;" there
passed a jack in green, a bladder under his arm and a tankard at his belt, =
with
which latter he begged that sort of alms that flows from a spigot. As vagrant followers hover on the =
verge
of a camp, or watchful vultures circle around their prey, so these lower
parasites (distinct from the other well-born, more aristocratic genus of
smell-feast) prowled vigilantly without the castle walls and beyond the lim=
its
of the royal pleasure grounds, finding occasional employment from lackey, v=
alet
or equerry, who, imitating their betters, amused themselves betimes with so=
me
low buffoon or vulgar clown and rewarded him for his gross stories and anti=
cs
with a crust and a cup.
Faith, in those thrice happy days, every hench=
man
could whistle to him his shabby poet, and every ostler hold court in the
stable, with a visdase, or ass face, to keep the audience in a roar, and a =
nimble-footed
trull to set them into ecstasies.
But woe betide the honest wayfarer who strolled beyond the orderly
precincts of the king's walls after dusk; for if some street coxcomb was too
drunk to rob him, or a ribald Latin scholar saw him not, he surely ran into=
a
nest of pavement tumblers or cellar poets who forthwith stripped him and tu=
rned
him loose in the all-insufficient garb of nature.
A fantastic, waggish crew--yet Francis minded =
them
not, so long as they observed sufficient etiquette to keep their distance f=
rom
his royal person and immediate following.&=
nbsp;
This nice decorum, however, be it said, was an unwritten law with th=
ese
waifs and scatterlings, knowing the merry monarch who tolerated them afar w=
ould
feel no compunction at hanging them severally, or in squads, from the
convenient branches of the trees surrounding the castle, should the humor s=
eize
him that such summary chastisement were best for their morals and the welfa=
re
of the community. Thus, though
bold, were they also shy, drinking humbly from a black-jack quart in the
kitchen and vanishing docilely enough when the sovereign cook bid them be g=
one
with warm words or by flinging over them ladles of hot soup.
One bright morning, like rabbits peeping from
their holes when they hear the footfall of the hunter, these field ramblers=
and
wayside peregrinators were all agog, emerging from grassy cover and thicket=
retreat,
to gaze open-mouthed after a gay cavalcade that issued from the castle gate,
and rode southward with waving banner and piercing trumpet note.
"The king, knaves!" cried a grimy es=
tray
with bells upon his person that jingled like those of a Jewish high priest,=
to
a group of players and gamesters.
"Already my mouth waters at the thoughts of the wedding feast, =
and
the scraps and bones that will be thrown away. There I warrant you we'll all find
hearty cheer."
"Why are fools ever welcome at a
wedding?" asked a singing scholar.
"Because there are two in the ceremony, a=
nd
the rest make the chorus," answered a philandering mime.
"And our merry monarch goeth down the roa=
d to
meet one of the two," said a close-cropped rogue.
"Well, he's a brave knight to come so far=
to
yield himself captive--to a woman," returned the student. "As Horace saith--"
"Thou calumniator! shrimp of a man!"
exclaimed a dark-browed drab dressed like a gipsy, seizing the scholar's sh=
ort
doublet. "An I get at
you--"
"Take the garment, you harridan, not the
man," he retorted, slipping deftly out of the jerkin and dancing away =
to a
safe distance.
"Ha! there's wedded bliss for you!"
laughed a man in Franciscan attire, a rough rascal disguised as one of those
priests called "God's fools" or "Christ's fools." "A week ago, when I married t=
hem,
they were billing and cooing. But
to your holes, children! When=
the
king returns he would not have his guest gaze upon such scarecrows and trol=
lops. Disperse, and Beelzebub take you!&=
quot; And as the group scattered the sou=
nd of
beating horses' hoofs died away in the distance.
Francis was unusually good-humored that day. Apprised by a herald that the duke=
and
his followers were nearing the castle, he had sent the messenger back annou=
ncing
a trysting-place, and now rode forth to meet his guest and escort him with
honor to the castle. Upon a n=
oble
steed, black as night, the monarch sat; the saddle and trappings crimson in=
color;
the stirrup and bit, of gold; a jaunty plume of white ostrich feathers wavi=
ng
above the jetty mane. The cos=
tume
of the king's stalwart figure displayed a splendid suit of plate armor,
enriched with chased work and ornament in gold, his appearance in keeping w=
ith
his character of monarch and knight who sought to revive the spirit of chiv=
alry
at a period when the practical modern tendencies seriously threatened to
undermine the practices and traditions of a once-exalted, but now fast-fail=
ing,
institution for the regulation of morals and conduct.
By his side, less radiant only in comparison w=
ith
the august monarch, rode the rank and quality of the realm, with silver and
spangles, and fluttering plumes, scabbards gleaming with jewels, and girdles
adorned with rich settings.
Furiously galloping behind came an attenuated snow-white charger,
bearing the hunchback. A blad=
der
dangling over his shoulder, his bagpipe hanging from his waist, Triboulet
bobbed frantically up and down, clinging desperately to the saddle or windi=
ng his
legs about the charger's neck to preserve his equilibrium.
"You would better jog along more quietly,
fool," observed a courtier, warningly, "or you will suffer for
it."
"Alas, sir," replied Triboulet, &quo=
t;I
stick my spurs into my horse to keep him quiet, but the more I prick him the
more unruly I find the obstinate beast."
The king, who heard, laughed, and the dwarf's
heart immediately expanded, auguring he should soon be restored to the
monarch's favor; for since the night the buffoon had failed to answer the
duke's jester in Fools' hall Francis had received Triboulet's advances and
small pleasantries with terrifying coldness. In fact, the dwarf had never passe=
d such
an uncomfortable period during his career, save on one memorable occasion w=
hen
a band of mischievous pages had set upon him, carried him to the scaffold a=
nd
nailed his enormous ears to the beam. Now, reassured, burning with delight,=
the
jester spurred presumptuously forward, no longer feeling bound to lag in the
rear.
"Go back!" cried an angry knight.
Triboulet reined in his horse, but pushed ahea=
d on
the other side of the rider who had spoken.
"I can bear it very well," he retort=
ed
and found his proud reward in the company's laughter. The remark, moreover, passed from =
lip to
lip to the king, and the misshapen jester felt his little cup of happiness =
filled
once more to the brim; his old prestige seemed coming back to him; holding =
his
position in the road, he gazed disdainfully at the disgruntled knight, and =
the
other returned the look with one of hearty ill-will, muttering an imprecati=
on
and warning just above his breath.
"Sire," called out Triboulet, loudly,
now above fearing courtier, knight or any high official of the realm, "=
;the
Count de Piseione says he will beat me to death."
"If he does," good-naturedly answered
the king, "I will hang him quarter of an hour afterward."
"Please, your Majesty, hang him quarter o=
f an
hour before."
Thus right pleasantly, with quip and jest, and
many a smart sally, did the monarch and his retinue draw near the meeting s=
pot,
where at a fork of the road, beneath the shade of overhanging branches, were
already assembled a goodly group of soldiers. Beyond them, at a respectful dista=
nce,
stood many beasts of burden, heavily laden, the great packs promising store=
s of
rare and costly gifts. At the=
head
of the troopers was a thick-set man, with broad shoulders and brawny frame,
mounted on a powerful gray horse.
This leader, whom the approaching company surmised to be the duke, s=
at
motionless as a statue, gazing steadfastly at the shining armor and gallant
figure of the king who spurred to him, a friendly greeting on his lips. Then, lightly springing to earth a=
nd throwing
his bridle to one of his troop, the foreign noble approached the royal hors=
eman
on foot, and, bending his head, knelt before him, respectfully kissing his
hand.
Grim, silent, with hardened faces, the duke's =
men
regarded the scene, their dusty attire (albeit rich enough beneath the mark=
s of
travel), sun-burned visages and stolid manner in marked contrast with the b=
earing
and aspect of the king's gay following.&nb=
sp;
One of the alien troop pulled a red mustachio fiercely and eyed a bl=
ithe
popinjay of the court with quizzical superiority; the others remained,
stock-still, but observant.
"I see you are punctual and waiting, noble
sir!" said the monarch gaily when the initial formalities had been
complied with. "But that=
is no
more than should be expected from--an impatient bridegroom." Then, gazing curiously, yet with
penetrating look, on the features of his guest, who now had arisen: "Y=
ou
appear slightly older than I expected from the letter of our dear friend and
brother, the emperor."
And truly the duke's appearance was that of a =
man
more nearly five and thirty than five and twenty; his face was brown from
exposure and upon his brow the scar of an old sword wound; yet a fearless,
dashing countenance; an eye that could kindle to headlong passion, and a th=
ick-set
neck and heavy jaw that bespoke the foeman who would battle to the last bre=
ath.
"Older, Sire?" he replied with
composure. "That must ne=
eds
be, since living in the saddle ages a man."
"Truly," returned the monarch,
instinctively laying his hand upon his sword. "The clash of arms, the thund=
er of
hoofs, the waving banners--yes, Glory is a seductive mistress who robs us of
our youth. Have I not wooed her and found--gray hairs? Who shall give me back those days?=
"
"History, your Majesty, shall give them to
posterity," answered the duke.
"Even those we lost to Charles?"
muttered the king, a shadow passing over his countenance.
"Glory, Sire, is a mistress sometimes fic=
kle
in her favors."
"And yet we live but for--" He broke off abruptly, and with th=
e eye
of a trained commander surveyed the duke's men. "Daredevils; daredevils, all!=
"
he muttered.
"Rough-looking fellows, Sire!"
apologized the duke, "but tried and faithful soldiers. Somewhat dusty and road-worn."=
; And his eyes turned meaningly to t=
he
king's suite; the flashing girdles of silver, the shining hilts, the gorgeo=
us
cloaks and even the adornment of ribbons.
"Nay," said Francis meditatively,
"on a rough journey I would fain have these fire-eaters at my back.
"Moderately well, your Majesty,"
answered the duke with modesty.
"Will you mount, noble sir, and ride with
me? Yonder is the castle, and=
in
the castle is a certain fair lady whom you, no doubt, fain would see."=
Long gazed the Duke of Friedwald at the distant
venerable pile of stone; the majestic turrets and towers softly floating in=
a
dreamy mist; the setting, fresh, woody, green. Long he looked at this inviting pi=
cture
and then breathed deeply.
"Ah, Sire, I would the meeting were
over," he remarked in a low voice.
"Why so, sir?" asked the king in
surprise. "Do you fear y=
ou
will not fancy the lady?"
"I fear she may not fancy me," retor=
ted
the nobleman, soberly. "=
Your own
remark, Sire; that I appear older than you had expected?" he continued,
gravely, significantly.
"A recommendation in your favor,"
laughed the monarch. "I =
ever
prefer sober manhood to callow youth about me. The one is a prop, stanch, tried; =
the
other a reed that bends this way and that, or breaks when you press it too
hard."
"I should be lacking in gratitude were I =
not
deeply appreciative of your Majesty's singular kindness," replied the
duke, his face flushing with pleasure.&nbs=
p;
"But your Majesty knows womankind--"
"Nay; I've studied them a little, but know
them not," retorted Francis, dryly.
"And it is unlikely the lady may find me =
all
her imagination has depicted," went on the nobleman, with palpable
embarrassment. "My noble
master, the emperor, hath--regarding me still as but a stripling from his o=
wn
vantage point of age and wisdom--represented me a young man in his
proposals. But though I'm you=
nger
than I look, and feel no older than I am, how young, or how old, shall I se=
em
to the princess?"
"Young enough to be her husband; old enou=
gh
for her to look up to," answered the monarch, reassuringly.
"Again," objected the duke, meditati=
vely
regarding the castle, "she may be expecting a handsome, debonair
bridegroom, and when she sees me"--ruefully surveying himself--"w=
hat
will she say?"
"What will she say? 'Yes' at the altar. Is it not enough?" Leaning back in his saddle, the ki=
ng's
face expressed the enjoyment he derived from the conversation with the back=
ward
and too conscientious soldier. Here was a groom whose wedding promised the
court much amusement and satisfaction in those jovial days of jesting and
merry-making.
"Come," resumed the king, encouragin=
gly,
"I'll warrant you more forward in battle."
"Battle!" said the duke. "That's another matter. To see your foeman's gleaming eyes=
!--but
hers!-- Should they express a=
nger,
disdain--"
"Let yours show but the greater wrath,&qu=
ot;
advised the king, complaisantly.
"In love, like cures like!&nbs=
p;
Let me be your physician; I'll warrant you'll find me proficient.&qu=
ot;
"I've heard your Majesty hath practised
deeply," returned the noble, readily, in spite of his perplexity.
"Deeply?" Francis lifted his brow. "I am but a superficial stude=
nt; master
only of the rudiments; no graduate of the college of love. Moreover, I've h=
eard
the letters you exchanged were--ahem!--well-enough writ. You pressed your suit warmly for o=
ne
unlearned, a mere novice."
"Because I had seen her face, your Majest=
y;
had it ever before me in the painted miniature. Any man"--with a rough eloque=
nce
and fervor that impressed the king with the depth of his passion--"cou=
ld
well worship at that fair shrine, but that she--"
"Forward, I beg you!" interrupted the
king. "Womankind are but=
frail
flesh, sir; easily molded; easily won.&nbs=
p;
She is a woman; therefore, soft, yielding; yours for the asking. You are over valorous at a distanc=
e; too
timorous near her. Approach h=
er
boldly, and, though she were Diana's self, I'll answer for your victory!
"Cold-hearted?" answered the dwarf, =
with
a ludicrous expression of feigned rapture.=
"Were I to relate--but, no, my tongue is silent--discretion--yo=
ur
Majesty will understand--"
"Well," said the duke, "with
encouragement from the best-favored scholar in the kingdom and the--ugliest=
, I
should proceed with more confidence."
"Best-favored!" smirked the little
monster. "Really, you fl=
atter
me."
"A whimsical fellow, Sire," vouchsaf=
ed
the nobleman.
"When he is not tiresome," answered =
the
monarch. "On,
gentlemen!" And the cava=
lcade
swept down the road toward the castle.&nbs=
p;
Far behind, with cracking of whip, followed the mules and their driv=
ers.
=
The rough Norman banqueting hall, with its mas=
sive
rafters, frayed tapestries and rude adornment of bristling heads of savage
boars, wide-spreading antlers and other trophies of the chase, had long sin=
ce been
replaced under the king's directions by an apartment more to the satisfacti=
on
of a monarch who was a zealous and lavish patron of the brilliant Italian
school of painting, sculpture and architecture. Those barbarous decorations,
celebrating the hunt, had been relegated to subterranean regions, the walls
dismantled, and the room turned over to a corps of artists of such renown a=
s Da
Vinci, François Clouet, Jean Cousin and the half-mad Benvenuto Celli=
ni.
Where formerly wild boars had snarled with wic=
ked
display of yellow tusks from the blackened plaster, now Cleopatra, in the f=
ull
bloom of her mature charms, reclined with her stalwart Roman hero in tender=
dalliance. Where once the proud and stately h=
ead of
the majestic stag had hung over door and panel, now classic nymphs bathed i=
n a
pellucid pool, and the only horns were those which adorned the head of him =
who,
according to the story, dared gaze through the foliage, and was rewarded for
his too curious interest by--that then common form of punishment--metamorph=
osis.
Overhead, vast transformation from the great
ribbed beams of oak and barren interspaces, graceful Peri floated on snow-w=
hite
clouds and roguish Cupids swam through the azure depths, to the edification=
of nondescript
prodigies, who constituted the massive molding, or frame, to the decorative
scene. The ancient fireplace,=
broad
and deep, had given way to an ornate mantel of marble; the capacious tankard
and rotund pewter pot of olden times, suggestive of mighty butts of honest =
beer,
had been supplanted by goblets of silver and gold, covered with scroll work,
arabesques or chiseled figures.
In this spacious hall, begilt, bemirrored,
assembled, on the evening of the duke's arrival, Francis, his court and the
guest of the occasion. From wide-spreading chandeliers, with their pendent,
pear-shaped crystals, a thousand candles threw a flood of light upon the sc=
ene,
as 'mid trumpet blast and softer strains of harmony, King Francis and good =
Queen
Eleanor led the way to the royal table; and thereat, shortly after, at a si=
gnal
from the monarch, the company seated themselves.
At the head of the board was the king; on his
right, his lawful consort, pale, composed, saintly; on his left, the Counte=
ss
d'Etampes, rosy, animated, free.
Next to the favorite sat the "fairest among the learned and most
learned among the fair," Marguerite, beloved sister of Francis, and her
second husband, Henry d'Albret, King of Navarre; opposite, Henry the dauphin
and his spouse, Catharine de Medici; not far removed, Diane de Poitiers, wh=
ose
dark eyes Henry ever openly sought, while Catharine complacently talked aff=
airs
of state with the chancellor.
In the midst of this illustrious company, and
further surrounded by a plentiful sprinkling of ruddy cardinals, fat bishop=
s,
constables, governors, marshals and ladies, more or less distinguished thro=
ugh birth
or beauty, the Duke of Friedwald and the Princess Louise were a center of
attraction for the wits whose somewhat free jests the license of the times
permitted. At the foot of the=
royal
table places had been provided for Marot, Caillette, Triboulet, Jacqueline =
and
the duke's fool.
The heads and figures of the ladies of the cou=
rt
were for the most part fearfully and wonderfully bedecked. In some instances the horned-shaped
head-dress had been followed by yet loftier steeples, "battlements to
combat God with gold, silver and pearls; wherein the lances were great fork=
ed
pins, and the arrows the little pins." With more simplicity, the Princess
Louise wore her hair cased in a network of gold and jewels, and the austere
French moralist who assailed the higher bristling ramparts of vanity would,
perhaps, have borne in silence this more modest bastion of the flesh and the
devil.
But the face beneath was a greater danger to t=
hose
who hold that beauty is a menace to salvation; on her cheek hung the rosy
banner of youth; in her eyes shone the bright arrows of conquest. And the duke, discarding his
backwardness, as a soldier his cloak before battle, watched the hue that
mantled her face, proffered his open breast to the shining lances of her ga=
ze,
and capitulated unconditionally before the smile of victory on her blood-red
lips. With his great shoulder=
s, his
massive neck and broad, virile face, he seemed a Cyclops among pygmies in t=
hat
gathering of slender courtiers and she but a flower by his side.
"I thought, Sire, your duke was timorous,
bashful as a boy?" murmured the Countess d'Etampes to the king.
"He was--on the road!" answered the =
king
thoughtfully.
"Then has he marvelously recovered his
assurance."
"In love, Madam, as in battle, the zest g=
rows
with the fray," said Francis with meaning.
"And the duke is reputed a brave
soldier. He looks very strong=
, as if--almost--he
might succeed with any woman he were minded to carry off."
"To carry off!" laughed the monarch.=
"'Tis he, Madam, who will be =
bound
in tethers! At heart he's
shame-faced as a callow younker."
She wilfully shook her head. "No woman could keep him in l=
eading-strings,
your Majesty. There is someth=
ing
domineering, savage, crushing, in his hand. Look at it, on the table there.
With amused superiority Francis regarded his f=
air
neighbor on the left. "Women, Madam, are but hasty judges of men,"=
; he
said, dryly, "and then 'tis fancy more than reason which governs their
verdict. If the duke should s=
eem
over-confident, 'tis to hide a certain modesty, and not to appear out of
confidence in so large a company."
"And yet, Sire, at their first meeting he=
did
not comport himself like one easily put out," persisted the favorite.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> "''Tis with a cold hand you w=
elcome
me, Princess,' he said, noticing her insensibility of manner. Then rising he gazed upon her long=
and
deep, as a soldier might survey a battlefield. 'And yet,' said he, still holding =
her fingers,
'I'll warrant me warm blood could course through this little hand.' At that the color rose in her chee=
k;
behold! the statue was touched with life and she looked at him as drawn aga=
inst
her will. 'If my hand be cold=
, my
Lord,' she answered, courteously, 'it belies the character of your
welcome.' Whereupon he laughe=
d like
one who has had a victory."
"Beshrew me," said the king, modifyi=
ng
his last observation, "if women are not all eyes and ears! I neither heard nor saw all that.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> A little constraint--a natural blu=
sh to
punctuate their talk--the meeting seemed conventional enough. 'Tis through your own romantic hea=
rt you
looked, Anne!"
Quicker circulated the goblets of silver, gold=
and
crystal; faster babbled the pretty lips; brighter grew the eyes beneath the
stupendous towers that crowned the heads of the court ladies. All talked at once without disturb=
ing
the king, who now whispered soft nothings in the ear of the countess. From the other tables in the hall =
arose
a varying cadence of clatter and laughter, which increased with the noise a=
nd
din of the king's own board; a clamor always just subservient to the deeper=
chorus
of the royal party; an accompaniment, as it were, full yet unobtrusive, to =
the
hubbub from the more exalted company.
But the princely uproar growing louder, the grand-masters,
grand-chamberlain, gentlemen of the chamber and lesser lights of the church
were enabled to carol and make merry with less restraint. The pungent smell of roses permeat=
ed the
hall, arising from a screen of shrubbery at one end of the room wherein san=
g a
hundred silver-toned birds.
At the king's table Caillette recited a merry
roundelay, and Triboulet roared out tale after tale, each more full-flavored
than the one that went before it, flinging smart sayings at marriage, and
drawing a ludicrous picture of the betrayed husband. Villot, a lily in his hand, which =
he
regarded ever sentimentally, caroled the boisterous espousals of a yokel an=
d a
cinder-wench, while Marot and a bishop contended in a heated argument regar=
ding
the translation of a certain passage of Ovid's "Art of Love."
Singularly pale, unusually tranquil, the duke's
fool furtively watched his master and the princess. In contrast to his composure, Jacq=
ueline's
merriment seemed the more unrestrained; she laughed like a witch; her hands
flashed with pretty gestures, and she had so tossed her head, her hair floa=
ted
around her, wild and disordered.
"Why are you so quiet?" she whispere=
d to
the duke's fool.
"Is there not enough merriment,
mistress?" he answered, gravely.
"There can never be any to spare," s=
he
said. "And you would do =
well
to remember your office."
"What do you mean?" he asked, absent=
ly.
"That you have many enemies; that you can=
not
live at court with a jaundiced countenance. Heigh-ho! Alackaday! You should hie yourself back to the
woods and barren wastes of Friedwald, Master Fool."
Her sparkling glance returned to the exhilarat=
ing
scene. Well had the assemblag=
e been
called a court of love. Now s=
oft
eyes invited burning glances, and graceful heads swayed alluringly toward t=
he
handsome cavaliers who momentarily had found lodgment in hearts which, like=
palaces,
had many ante-chambers. From =
hidden
recesses, strains of music filled the room with tinkling passages of sensuo=
us,
but illusive, harmony; a dream of ardor, masked in the daintiness of a minu=
et.
Upon the back of the princess' chair rested on=
e of
the duke's hands; with the other he lifted his glass--a frail thing in fing=
ers
better adapted for a sword-hilt or massive battle mace.
"Drink, Princess," he said, bending =
over
her, "to--our meeting!"
Her eyelids fluttered before his look; her bre=
ast
rose a little. The scar on hi=
s brow
held her gaze, as one fascinated, but she drew away slightly and mechanical=
ly
sought the tiny golden goblet at her elbow. Dreamily, dreamily, sounded the
rhythmical music; heavily, so heavily hung the perfume in the air! Full of mist seemed the hall; the =
king, the
queen, the countess, all of the party, unreal, fanciful. The touch of the goblet chilled he=
r lips
and she put it down quickly.
"Is not the wine to your liking?" he
asked, his hand tightening on her chair.&n=
bsp;
"Perhaps it is too sour for your taste?"
"Nay; I thought it rather sweet," she
answered. "Oh, I meant n=
ot that--"
"It is sweet wine, Princess," he sai=
d,
setting down an empty glass. "Sweeter than our Austrian vintage. Not white and thin and watery, but=
red--red
as blood--red as your heart's blood--or mine--"
Crash! from the hand of the duke's jester had
fallen a goblet to the floor. The
princess started, turned; for a moment their glances bridged the distance f=
rom
where she sat, to the fools' end of the table; then hers slowly fell; slowl=
y,
and she passed a hand, whereon shone the king's ring, across her brow; look=
ed
up, as though once more to span infinity with her gaze, when her eyes fell
short and met the duke's.
Deliberately he lifted his filled glass.
"Red as your heart's blood--and mine--my
love!" he repeated; and then stared sharply across the table at his
jester.
Triboulet, swaggering in his chair, so high his
feet could not touch the floor, surveyed the broken glass, the duke and the
duke's fool. For some time his vigilant eyes had been covertly studying the=
unconscious
foreign jester, noting sundry signs and symptoms. Nor had the princess' look when the
goblet had fallen, been lost upon the misshapen buffoon; alert, wide-awake,=
his
mind, quick to suspect, reached a sudden conclusion; a conclusion which by
rapid process of reasoning became a conviction. Privileged to speak where others m=
ust need
be silent, his profession that of prying subtlety, which spared neither rank
nor power so that it raised a laugh, he felt no hesitation in publishing the
information he had gleaned by his superior mental nimbleness.
"Ho! ho!" he bellowed, the better to
attract attention to himself. "The duke sent his fool to amuse his
betrothed and the fool hath lost his heart to his mistress."
The king left off his whispering, Catharine tu=
rned
from the chancellor, Diane ceased furtively to regard Caillette, while the
Queen of Navarre laughed nervously and murmured:
"Princess and jester! It will make another tale."
But Henry of Navarre looked gravely down. He, and Francis' queen--a passive
spectator at the feast--and a bishop, whose interest lay in a truffled capo=
n,
alone followed not the direction of the duke's eyes. The fair favorite of t=
he
king clapped her hands, but the monarch frowned, not having forgotten that
night in Fools' hall when the jester had appointed rogues to offices.
"What is this? A fool in love with the princess?&=
quot;
said the king, ominously.
"Even so, your Majesty," cried
Triboulet. "But a moment=
ago
Duke Robert did whisper to his bride-to-be, and the fool's hand trembled li=
ke a
leaf and dropped his glass. T=
ra!
la! la! What a situation! Holy
Saint-Bagpipe! Here's a comed=
y in
high life!"
"A comedy!" repeated the duke, and
half-rose from his chair, regarding his fool with surprise and anger.
Now Triboulet roared. Had he not in the past attained hi=
s high
position of favorite jester to the king by his very foolhardihood? And were not trusting lovers and a=
ll
too-confiding husbands the legitimate butt of all jesting?
"Look at the fool," he went on
exultantly. "Does any one
doubt his guilt? He is silent=
; he
can not speak!"
And, indeed, the foreign jester seemed momenta=
rily
disconcerted, although he strove to appear indifferent.
"A presumptuous knave!" muttered Fra=
ncis,
darkly. "He saved his ne=
ck once
only by a trick."
"Oh, the duke would not mind, now, if you
were to hang him, Sire," answered Triboulet, blithely.
"True!" smiled the king. "The question of breach of
hospitality might not occur. =
What
have you to say, fool?" he continued, turning to the object of the
buffoon's insidious and malicious attack.
"Laugh!" whispered Jacqueline, furti=
vely
pressing the arm of the duke's fool.
"Laugh, or--"
The touch and her words appeared to arouse him
from his lethargy and the jester arose, but not before the princess, with
flaming cheeks, but proud bearing, had cast a quick glance in his direction=
; a
glance half-appealing, half-resentful.&nbs=
p;
Idly the joculatrix regarded him, her hands upon the table playing w=
ith
the glasses, her lips faintly repeating the words of a roundelay:
"For love is madness; While madness rul=
es, Fools in love Remain but fools!=
Sing
hoddy-doddy, Noddy=
! Remain but fools!=
"
=
With
the eyes of the company upon him, the duke's fool impassively studied the
carven figure on his stick. I=
f he
felt fear of the king's anger, the resentment of his master, or the malice =
of
the dwarf, his countenance now did not betray it. He had seemed about to speak, but =
did
not.
"Well, rascal, well?" called out the
king. "Do you think your=
wand will
save you, sirrah?" he added impatiently.
"Why not, Sire?" tranquilly answered=
the
jester.
The duke's face grew more and more ominous.
Almost imperceptibly the brow of the plaisant
clouded, but recovering himself, he confronted the king with an enigmatic
smile.
"Why not?" he repeated. "In the Court of Love is not =
the
fool's wand greater than a king's miter or the pastoral staff of the
Abbé de Lys? Besides, Sire," he added quickly, "as a fool
takes it, in the Court of Love, not to love--is treason!"
"Good!" murmured the bishop, still
eating. "Not to love is
treason!"
"Who alone is the culprit? Whose heart alone is filled with
umbrage, hatred, pique?"
"Triboulet! Triboulet, the traitor!" sudd=
enly
cried the countess, sprightly as a child.
"Yes; Triboulet, the traitor!" excla=
imed
the fool, pointing the wand of folly at the hunchback.
Even Francis' offended face relaxed. "Positively, I shall never ha=
ng this
fellow," he said grimly to Marguerite.
"Before this tribunal of ladies whose bea=
uty
and learning he has outraged by his disaffection and spleen, I summon him f=
or
trial," continued the duke's jester.&=
nbsp;
"Triboulet, arise!
Illustrious ladies of the Court of Love, the offender is in your
hands."
"A little monster!" spoke up Diane w=
ith
a gesture of aversion, real or affected.
"He is certainly somewhat
reprehensible," added the Queen of Navarre, whose tender heart ever
inclined to the weaker side.
"An unconscionable rogue," murmured =
the
bishop, complacently clasping his fat fingers before him.
"So he is already tried by the Church and=
the
tribunal," went on the plaisant of the duke. "The Church hath excommunicat=
ed him
and the Court of Love--"
"Will banish him!" exclaimed the
countess mirthfully, regarding the captious monarch with mock defiance.
"Yes, banish him; turn him out," ech=
oed
Catharine, carelessly.
"But, your Majesty!" remonstrated the
alarmed Triboulet, turning to the monarch whose favor he had that day enjoy=
ed.
"Appeal not to me!" returned Francis,
sternly. "Here Venus
rules!" And he gallantly inclined to the countess.
"Venus at whom he scoffs!" broke in Jacqueline, shrilly, leaning back in her chair with her hands on her hips.<= o:p>
"You witch!--you sorceress!--it was you
who"--he hissed with venomous glance.
"Hear him!" exclaimed the girl,
lightly. "He calls me wi=
tch--sorceress--because,
forsooth, I am a woman!"
"A woman--a devil"--muttered Triboul=
et
between his closed teeth.
"And now," she cried, rising,
impetuously, "he says that women are devils! What shall we do with him?"
"Pelt him out!" answered the
countess. "Pelt him out!=
"
With peals of merriment and triumphant shouts,=
the
court, of one accord, directed a fusillade of fruits, nuts and other viands=
at
the head and person of the raging and hapless buffoon, the countess herself,
apple in hand--Eve bent upon vengeance--leading in the assault. The other tables responded with a
cross-fire, and heavier articles succeeded lighter, until after having endu=
red
the continuous attack for a few moments as best he might, the unlucky dwarf
raised his arms above his head and fairly fled from the hall, leaving behin=
d in
his haste a bagpipe and his wooden sword.
"So may all traitors be punished!" s=
aid
the bishop unctuously, as he reached for a dish of confections that had esc=
aped
the fair hands in search of ammunition.
"Well," laughed the Countess d'Etamp=
es,
"if we have the support of the Church--"
"I will confess you, myself, Madam,"
gallantly retorted the bishop.
"And all the Court of Love?" asked
Marguerite.
"Ah, your Highness--all?--I am old--in ne=
ed
of rest--but with an assistant or two--"
"Assistant or two!" interrupted
Catharine, imperiously. "=
;Would
the task then be so great?"
"Nay"--with gentle
expostulation--"but you--members of the court--are many; not your
sins."
"I suppose," whispered Jacqueline to=
the
duke's fool, when the attention of the company was thus withdrawn from the
jester's end of the table, "you think yourself in fine favor now?"=
;
"Yes," he answered, absently; "=
thanks
to your suggestion."
"My suggestion!" she repeated,
scornfully. "I gave you
none."
"Well, then, your crossing Triboulet.&quo=
t;
"Oh, that," she replied, picking at a
bunch of grapes, "was to defend my sex, not you."
"But your warning for me to laugh?"<= o:p>
"Why," she returned, demurely, "'twas to see you go more gallantly to your execution. And"--eating a grape--"t= hat is reasonably certain to be your fate. You've only made a few more enemies to-night--the duke--the--"<= o:p>
"Name them not, fair Jacqueline," he
retorted, indifferent.
"True; you'll soon learn for yourself,&qu=
ot;
she answered sharply. "I=
think
I should prefer to be in Triboulet's place to yours at present."
"Why," he said, with a strange laugh,
"there's a day for the duke and a day for the fool."
Deliberately she turned from him and sang very
softly:
"For love is madness; (A dunce on a sto=
ol!) A king in love, A king and a fool=
! Sing
hoddy-doddy, Noddy=
! A king and a
fool!"
=
The
monarch bent over the countess; Diane and the dauphin exchanged messages wi=
th
their eyes; Catharine smiled on Villot; the princess listened to her betrot=
hed;
and the jestress alone of all the ladies leaned back and sang, heart-free.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> But suddenly she again broke off a=
nd looked
curiously at the duke's plaisant.
"Why did you not answer them with what was
first in your mind?" she asked.
"What was that?" he said, starting.<= o:p>
"How can I tell?" she returned, stud=
ying
him.
"You can tell a great deal," he repl=
ied.
"Sing hoddy-doddy, Noddy! The duke and the fool"--=
she hummed, deigning no further words.
"Turn out these torch-bearers, human
candlesticks, and valets de chambre, and I'll get me to bed," commanded
the duke, standing in the center of his room, and the trooper with the fier=
ce
red mustaches waved a swarm of pages, cup-bearers and attendants from the d=
oor
and closed it. "How are =
the
men quartered, Johann?"
"With all the creature comforts, my
Lord," answered the soldier.
"The king hath dressed them like popinjays; they drink overmuch,
dice, and run after the maids, but otherwise are well-behaved."
"Drink; dice; run after the maids!" =
said
the noble, gazing thoughtfully downward.&n=
bsp;
"Hold them in check, Johann, as though we were in a campaign.&q=
uot;
"Yes, my Lord," returned the man,
staring impassively before him.
"And especially keep them from the kitchen
wenches. There's more danger =
in
these femmes de chambre, laundresses and scullery Cinderellas than in a col=
umn
of glittering steel. Remember=
, no
Court of Love in the scullery. Now
go! Yet stay, Johann!" he
added, suddenly. "This f=
ool of
ours is a bold fellow. Look t=
o him
well!"
Saluting respectfully, an expression of quick
intelligence on his florid features, the trooper backed out of the room.
But a new element had entered into the field; =
an
element unforeseen--the jester!--and, although not attaching great importan=
ce to
this possible source of hazard in his plans for the future, the duke was too
good a soldier to disregard any risk, however slight. In love and battle, every peril sh=
ould
be avoided; every vulnerable point made impregnable. Besides, the fool was audacious,
foolhardy; his language of covert mockery and quick wit proved him an
intelligent antagonist, who might become a desperate one.
"A woman and a fool," muttered the d=
uke,
striding with quick step across his chamber, "are two uncertain
quantities. The one should be=
subjected;
the other removed!"
Museful, he stood before the niche, wherein sh=
one
a cross of silver, set with amethysts and turquoise, his rugged face lighte=
d by
the uncertain flickering of the candles.
"Removed!" he repeated,
contemplatively. "And
she--"
The clear tinkling of a bell broke in upon his
cogitation; a faint, musical sound that seemed at his very elbow. He wheeled about abruptly, saw not=
hing
save the mysterious shadows of the curtains, the flickering lamps, the dark
outline of the canopy of the great bed. Instinctively he knew he was not al=
one,
and yet his gaze, rapidly sweeping the apartment, failed to perceive an
intruder.
Again the tinkling, a low laugh, and, turning
sharply toward an alcove from whence the sounds came, the duke, through the
half-light and trailing, sombrous shadows of its entrance, perceived a figu=
re
in a chair. From a candle set=
in a
spiked, enameled stick, a yellow glimmering, that came and went with the
sputtering flame, rested upon an ironical face, a graceful figure in motley=
and
a wand with the jester's head and the bell. Without rising, the plaisant quizzi=
cally regarded
the surprised nobleman, who in spite of his self-control had stepped back
involuntarily at the suddenness of the encounter.
"Good evening, my Lord," said the
fool. "I am like the gen=
ii of
the tale. You think of me, an=
d I
appear."
Regaining his composure at once, the king's gu=
est
bent his heavy brows over his deep-set eyes, and deliberately surveyed the
fool.
"And now," went on the jester, gaily,
"it is in your mind I am like as suddenly to--disappear! Am I at fault?"
"On the contrary, you are unusually
clear-witted," was the answer.
"Oh, my Lord, you over-estimate my poor
capacity!" returned the nobleman's unasked caller with a deprecatory
gesture.
The hands of the other worked impatiently; his
herculean figure blocked the doorway.
"You are a merry fellow!" he observed. "It is to be regretted,
but--confess you have brought it upon yourself?"
"What?&n=
bsp;
My fate? Oh, yes!"=
; And he indifferently regarded the =
wand
and the wooden figure upon it, without moving from the chair.
"You have no fear?" questioned the d=
uke,
quietly.
"Fear?&n=
bsp;
Why should I?"
Yawning, the fool stretched his arms, looking =
not
at the nobleman, but beyond him, and, instinctively, the princess' betrothed
peered over his shoulder in the semi-darkness behind, while his hand quickly
sought his sword.
"Fie, most noble Duke!" exclaimed the
jester. "We have no eave=
sdroppers
or interlopers, believe me! W=
e are
entirely alone, you and I--master and fool. There; come no nearer, I beg!"=
; As the nobleman menacingly moved t=
oward
him.
"Have you any argument to advance, Sir Fo=
ol,
why I should not?" said the other, grimly, a gleam of amusement depict=
ed
on his broad face as he paused the while.
"An argument, sharp as a needle, somewhat
longer!" replied the jester, touching his breast and drawing from betw=
een
the folds of his doublet a shining hilt.
Harsh and loud laughed the king's guest. "You fool," he said, &qu=
ot;you
had your opportunity below there in the hall and missed it. You hesitated, went blindly another
course, and now"--with ominous meaning--"you are here!"
Upon the stick a candle dripped, sputtered and
went out; the jester bent forward and with the copper snuffer on the table =
near
by deftly trimmed the remaining light.
"Only fools fight in darkness," he
remarked, quietly, "and here is but one of them."
"You pit yourself and
that--plaything!--against me?" asked the burly soldier, derisively.
"Have you hunted the wild boar, my
Lord?" lightly answered the other. "How mighty it is! How savage! What tusks! You know the pastime? A quick step, a sure arm, an eye l=
ike
lightning--presto! your boar lies on his back, with his feet in the air!
The prospective bridegroom paused thoughtfully=
.
"There is some justice in what you say,&q=
uot;
he returned, his manner that of a man who has carefully weighed and conside=
red
a matter. "I confess to
partiality for the thick of the fray, the brunt of the fight, where men pre=
ss
all around you."
"Assuredly, my Lord; for then the boar is=
in
his element; no matter how he rushes, his tusks strike yielding flesh."=
;
"Why should we fight at all--at
present?" cautiously ventured the noble, with further hesitation. "Not that I doubt I could eas=
ily
crush you"--extending his muscular arms--"but you might prick me,
and, just now, discretion may be the better part of valor. I--a duke, engaged to wed a prince=
ss,
have much to lose; you, nothing! A
fool's stroke might kill a king."
"Or a knave, my Lord!" added the
plaisant.
"Or a knave, sirrah!" thundered the
duke, the veins starting out on his forehead.
The jester half drew his dagger; his quiet
confidence and glittering eye impressed even his antagonist, inured to scen=
es
of violence and strife.
"Is it a truce, most noble Lord?" sa=
id
the fool, significantly. &quo=
t;A truce
wherein we may call black, black; and white, white! A truce which may be broken by eit=
her of
us, with due warning to the other?"
Knitting his brow, the noble stood motionless,
deeply pondering, his headlong passion evidently at combat with his judgmen=
t;
then his face cleared, a hard, brusque laugh burst from his lips and he bro=
ught
his fist violently down on the massive oak table near the door.
"So be it!" he assented, with a more
open look.
"A truce--without any rushes from the
boar?"
"Fool!&n=
bsp;
Does not my word suffice?" contemptuously retorted the duke.
"Yes; for although you are--what you are-=
-you
have been a soldier, and would not break a truce."
"Such commendation from--my jester is,
indeed, flattering!" satirically remarked the king's guest, seating
himself in a great chair which brought him face to face with the fool and y=
et
commanded the door, the intruder's only means of retreat.
"Pardon me, the duke's jester, you
mean?"
"Yes; mine!"
"A distinction with a difference!"
retorted the fool. "It is
quite true I am the duke's jester; it is equally untrue I am yours. Therefo=
re,
we reach the conclusion that you and the duke are two different persons.
"On the contrary," answered the othe=
r,
with no sign of anger or surprise, "your reasoning is all that could be
desired. Why should I deny wh=
at you
already know? I was aware, of
course, that you knew, when I first learned his jester was in the castle. Frankly, I am not the duke--to
you!"
"But with Francis and the court?"
suggested the fool, uplifting his brows.
"I am the duke--and such remain! You understand?"
"Perfectly, my Lord," replied the
jester, shrugging his shoulders. "But since I am not the king, nor one=
of
the courtiers, whom, for the time being, have I the honor of addressing?
"Not at all," said the other, with
mocking ceremony. "You a=
re a whimsical
fellow; besides, I am taken with a man who stands near death without
flinching. To tell you the tr=
uth,
our truce is somewhat to my liking.
There are few men who would have dared what you have to-night. And
although you're only a fool--will you drink with me from this bottle on the
table here? I'm tired of cere=
monies
of rank and would clink a glass in private with a merry fellow. What say you?"
And leaning over, he filled two large goblets =
with
the rich beverage from a great flask placed on the stand for his
convenience. His face lighted=
with
gross conviviality, but behind his jovial, free manner, that of a trooper in
his cups, gleamed a furtive, guarded look, as though he were studying and t=
esting
his man.
"I'm for a free life; some fighting; but =
snug
walls around for companionship," he continued. "Look at my soldiers now;
roistering, love-making!
Charles? Francis? Not one of the troop would leave m=
e for
emperor or king! Not one but =
would
follow me--where ambition leads!"&nbs=
p;
Holding up the glass, he looked into the depths of the thick burgund=
y. "Why, a likely fellow like you
should carry a gleaming blade, not a wooden sword. I know your duke--a man of lineage=
--a string
of titles long as my arm--an underling of the emperor, while I"--closi=
ng
his great jaw firmly--"owe allegiance to no man, or monarch, which is =
the
same thing. Drink, lad; I'm p=
leased
I did not kill you."
"And I," laughed the plaisant,
"congratulate myself you are still alive--for the wine is excellent!&q=
uot;
"Still alive!" exclaimed the king's
guest, boisterously, although a dark shadow crossed his glance.
"I'm scarred from head to foot, and my hi=
de
is as tough as--"
"A boar's?" tapping his chin with the
fool's head on his wand.
"Ah, you will have your jest," retor=
ted
the host of the occasion, good-naturedly.&=
nbsp;
"It's bred in the bone.
A quality for a soldier. Next to courage is that fine sense of humor
which makes a man a bon camarade.
Put down your graven image, lad; you were made to carry arms, not
baubles. Put it down, I say, =
and
touch glasses with Louis, of Pfalz-Urfeld."
"The bastard of Hochfels!" exclaimed=
the
jester, fixedly regarding the man whose name was known throughout Europe for
his reckless bravery, his personal resources and his indomitable pride or l=
ove
of freedom and independence, which held him aloof from emperor or monarch, =
and
made him peer and leader among the many intractable spirits of the Austrian=
country
who had not yet bowed their necks to conquest; a soldier of many battles, w=
hose
thick-walled fortress, perched picturesquely in mid-air on a steep mountain
top, established his security on all sides.
"The same, my friend of the motley,"
continued the other, not without complacency, observing the effect of his
announcement on the jester.
"He who calls himself the free baron of
Hochfels?" observed the fool, setting down the glass from which he had
moderately partaken.
"Aye; a man of royal and peasant blood,&q=
uot;
harshly answered the free-booter.
"Ambition, arrogance, are the kingly inheritance; strength, a
constitution of iron, the low-born legacy.=
What think you of such an endowment?"
"You are far from your castle, my Lord of
Hochfels," commented the jester, absently, unmindful of a question he =
felt
not called upon to answer.
"And yet as safe as in my own mountain
nest," retorted the free baron, or free-booter, indifferently. "Who would betray me? There is not a trooper of mine but=
would
die for his master. You would=
not
denounce me, because--but why enumerate the reasons? I hold you in the palm of my hand,=
and,
when I close my fingers, there's the end of you."
"But where--allow me; the wine has a rare
flavor," and he reached for the flask.
"Drink freely," returned the pretend=
er;
"it is the king's own, and you are my guest. You were about to ask--"
"Whence came the idea for this mad
adventure?" said the jester, his eyes seemingly bent in admiration on =
the
goblet he held; a half globe of crystal sustained by a golden Bacchus.
"Idea!" repeated the self-called bar=
on,
with a gesture of satisfaction. "It was more than an idea. It was an inspiration, born of that
chance which points the way to greatness.&=
nbsp;
The feat accomplished, all Europe will wonder at the wanton
exploit. At first Francis will
rage; then seeing me impregnably intrenched, will make the best of the
marriage, especially as the groom is of royal blood. Next, an alliance with the French =
king
against the emperor. Why not;=
was
not Francis once ready to treat even with Solyman to defeat Charles, an
overture which shocked Christendom?
And while Charles' energies are bent to the task of protecting his
country from the Turks, a new leader appears; a devil-may-care fellow--and
then--and then--"
He broke off abruptly; stared before him, as t=
hough
the fumes of wine were at last beginning to rise to his head; toyed with his
glass and drank it quickly at a draft.&nbs=
p;
"What an alluring will-o'-the-wisp is--to-morrow!" he
muttered.
"An illusive hope that reconciles us with
to-day," answered the plaisant.
"Illusive!" cried the other. "Only for poets, dreamers,
fools!"
"And you, Sir Baron, are neither one nor =
the
other," remarked the jester.
"No philosopher, but a plain soldier, who chops heads--not logi=
c. But the inspiration that caused yo=
u to
embark upon this hot-brained, pretty enterprise?"
"Upon a spur of rock that overlooks the r=
oad
through the mountain is set the Vulture's Nest, Sir Fool," began the
adventurer in a voice at once confident and arrogant. "At least, so the time-honored
fortress of Hochfels is disparagingly designated by the people. As the road is the only pass throu=
gh the
mountains, naturally we come more or less in contact with the people who go=
by
our doors. Being thus forced,=
through
the situation of our fortress, into the proximity of the traveling public, =
we
have, from time to time, made such sorties as are practised by a beleaguered
garrison, and have, in consequence, taken prisoners many traffickers and
traders, whose goods and chattels were worthy of our attention as spoils of
war. Generally, we have confi=
ned our
operations to migratory merchants, who carry more of value and cause less
trouble than the emperor's soldiers or the king's troopers, but occasionall=
y we
brush against one of the latter bands so that we may keep in practice in la=
ying
our blades to the grindstone, and also to show we are soldiers, not
robbers."
"Which remains to be proved," murmur=
ed
the attentive jester. "Y=
our pardon,
noble Lord"--as the other half-started from his chair--"let me fi=
ll
your glass. 'Tis a pity to ne=
glect
such royal wine. Proceed with=
your
story. Come we presently to t=
he
inspiration?"
"At once," answered the apparently
appeased master of the fortress, wiping his lips. "One day our western outpost
brought in a messenger, and, when we had stripped the knave, upon him we fo=
und
a miniature and a letter from the princess to the duke. The latter was prettily writ, with=
here
and there a rhyme, and moved me mightily.&=
nbsp;
The eagle hath its mate, I thought, but the vulture of Hochfels is s=
ingle,
and this reflection, with the sight of the picture and that right, fair scr=
ipt,
saddened me.
"And then, on a sudden, came the
inspiration. Why not play a h=
and in
this international marriage Charles and Francis were bringing about? I commanded the only road across t=
he
mountain; therefore, did command the situation. The emperor and the king should be=
but
the wooden figures, and I would pull the strings to make them dance. The duke, your master, why should =
he be
more than a name? The princes=
s' letter
told me she had never seen her betrothed.&=
nbsp;
What easier than to redouble the sentries in the valley, make prison=
ers
of the messengers, clap them in the fortress dungeons, read the missives, a=
nd
then despatch them to their respective destinations by men of my own?"=
"Then that was the reason why on my way
through the mountains your knaves attacked me?" said the listener quic=
kly.
"Exactly; to search you. How you slipped through their hand=
s I
know not." And he glance=
d at
the other curiously.
"They were but poor rogues," answered
the jester quickly.
"Certainly are you not one!" exclaim=
ed
the free baron, with a glance of approval at the slender figure of his
antagonist. "Two of them=
paid for
their carelessness. The other=
s were
so shamed, they told me some great knight had attacked them. A fool in motley!" he laughed=
. "No wonder the rogues hung th=
eir
heads! But in deceiving me,&q=
uot;
he added thoughtfully, "they permitted their master to run into an unk=
nown
peril--his ignorance that a fool of the duke, or a fool wearing the emblem =
of
the emperor, had gone to Francis' court."
"You were saying, Sir Free Baron, you
intended to read the messages between the princess and the duke, and afterw=
ard
to despatch them by messengers of your own?" interrupted the plaisant.=
"Such were my plans. Moreover, I possessed a clerk--a k=
nave
who had killed an abbot and fled from the monastery--a man of poetry, wit a=
nd sentiment. Whenever the letters lacked for ar=
dor,
and the lovers had grown too timid, him I set to forge a postscript, or ind=
ite
new missives, which the rogue did most prettily, having studied love-making=
under
the monks. And thus, Sir Fool=
, I
courted and won the princess--by proxy!"
"Of a certainty, your wooing was at least
novel, Sir Knight of the Vulture's Nest," dryly observed the jester. "Although, had my master know=
n the
deception, you would, perhaps, have paid dearly for it."
"Your master, forsooth!" laughed the
outlaw lord. "A puny sci=
on of
a worn-out ancestry! Such a w=
oman
as the princess wants a man of brawn and muscle; no weakling of the
nursery."
=
"Well,"
said the fool, slowly, "you became intermediary between the princess a=
nd
the duke, and the king and the emperor.&nb=
sp;
But to come into the heart of France; to the king's very palace--did=
you
not fear detection?"
"How?" retorted the other, raising h=
is
head and resting his eyes, bloodshot and heavy, on the fool's impassive
features. "The road betw=
een
the two monarchs is mine; no message can now pass. The emperor and the duke may wonde=
r, but
the way here is long, and"--with a smile--"I have ample time for =
the
enterprise ere the alarm can be given."
"And you paved the way for your coming by
altering the letters of the duke, or forging new ones?" suggested the
listener.
"How else? A word added here and there; a
post-script, or even a page! As for their highnesses' seals, any fool can b=
reak
and mend a seal. In a week th=
e duke
will wonder at the princess' silence; in a fortnight he will become uneasy;=
in
a month he will learn the cage has been left open and the bird hath flown.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Then, too, shall the gates of the =
dungeon
be set ajar, and the true, but tardy, messengers permitted to go their
respective ways. Is it not a =
nice
adventure? Am I not a fitter =
leader
than your duke?"
"Undoubtedly," returned the jester.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> "He sits at home, while you a=
re here
in his stead. But what will t=
he
princess say when she learns?"
"Nothing. She loves me already."
The fool turned pale; the hand that held his
glass, however, was firm, and he set the goblet down without a tremor.
"She may weep a little, but it will pass =
like
a summer shower. Women are we=
ak;
women are yielding. Have I not
reason to know?" he burst out.
"I, a--"
Brusquely he arose from his chair, leaving the
sentence uncompleted. Sternly he surveyed the jester.
"Why not take service with me?" he
continued, abruptly. "Au=
stria
is ripe to revolt against the tyranny of the emperor. With the discontent in the Netherl=
ands,
the dissensions in Spain, Europe is like a field, cut up, awaiting
new-comers."
He paused to allow the force of his words to
appeal to the other's imagination.
"What say you?" he continued. "Will you serve me?"
"The matter's worth thinking over,"
answered the fool, evasively.
"Well, take your time," said the kin=
g's
guest, regarding him more sharply.
"And now, as the candles are low and the flask is empty, you had
better take your leave."
At this intimation that the other considered t=
he
interview ended, the fool started to his feet and deliberately made his way=
to
the door opening into the corridor.
"Good-night!" he said, and was about=
to
depart when the free baron held him with a word.
"Hold!&n=
bsp;
Why have you not attempted to unmask me--before?"
Steadily the two looked at each other; the eye=
s of
the elder man, cruel, deep, all-observing; those of the younger, steady,
fearless, undismayed. Few of =
his
troopers could withstand the sinister penetration of Louis of Hochfels' gaz=
e,
but on the jester it seemed to have no more effect than the casual glance of
one of Francis' courtiers.
"You knew--and yet you made no sign?"
continued the master of the fortress.
"Because I like a strong play and did not
wish to spoil it--too soon!"
The questioner's brow fell; the lids half-veil=
ed
the dark, savage eyes, but the mouth relaxed. "Ah, you always have your
answer," he returned with apparent cordiality. "Good-night--and, by the by, =
our
truce is at an end."
"The truce--and the wine," said the
jester, as with a ceremonious bow, he vanished amid the shadows in the hall=
.
Slowly the free baron closed the door and lock=
ed
it; looked at the cross and at the bed, but made no motion toward either.
"He has already rejected my proposal,&quo=
t;
thought the self-styled duke. "Does he seek for higher rewards by
betraying me? Or is it, then,=
Triboulet
told the truth? Is he an aspi=
ring
lover of the princess? Or is =
he
only faithful to his master? =
Why
have I failed to read him? As=
though
a film lay across his eyes, that index to a man's soul!"
Motionless the free baron stood, long pondering
deeply, until upon the mantel the richly-chased clock began to strike
musically, yet admonishingly.
Whereupon he glanced at the cross; hesitated; then, noting the laten=
ess
of the hour, and with, perhaps, a mental reservation to retrieve his neglig=
ence
on the morrow, he turned from the silver, bejeweled symbol and immediately
sought the sensuous bodily enjoyment of a couch fit for a king or the pope
himself.
=
Another festal day had come and gone. The crimson shafts of the dying su=
n had
succumbed to the lengthening shadows of dusk, and the pigeons were wending
their way homeward to the castle parapets and battlements, when, toward the
arched entrance on the front, strode the duke's fool. Beyond the castle wal=
ls
and the inclosure of the pleasure grounds the peace of twilight rested on t=
he
land; the great fields lay becalmed; the distant forests were bivouacs of r=
est.
The afternoon had been a labor of pleasure; ab=
out
the great basin of the fountain had passed an ever-varying shifting of movi=
ng
figures; between the trees bright colors appeared and vanished, and from th=
e heart
of concealed bowers had come peals of laughter or strains of music. Unnoticed among the merry throng in
palace and park, the jester had moved aimlessly about; unobserved now, he
turned his back upon the gray walls, satiated, perhaps, with the fêtes
inaugurated by the kingly entertainer.&nbs=
p;
But as he attempted to pass the gate, a stalwart guard stepped forwa=
rd,
presenting a formidable-looking glave.
"Your permit to leave?" he said.
"A permit? Of course!" replied the fool,=
and
felt in his coat. "But w=
hat a
handsome weapon you have; the staff all covered with velvet and studded with
brass tacks!"
"Has the Emperor Charles, then, no such
weapons?" asked the gratified soldier.
"None so handsome! May I see it?" The guard unsuspiciously handed th=
e glave
to the jester, who immediately turned it upon the sentinel.
"Give it back, fool!" cried the alar=
med
guard.
"Nay; I am minded to call out and show a
soldier of France disarmed by a foreign fool."
"As well chop off my head with it!"
sighed the man.
"And if I wish to walk without the
gate?" suggested the jester.
"Go, good fool!" replied the other,
without hesitation.
"Well, here is the glave. If any one admires it again, let h=
im study
the point. But why may no one=
pass
out?"
"Because so many soldiers and good citize=
ns
have been beaten and robbed by those who hover around the palace. But you may go in peace," he =
added. "No one will harm a fool. If 'tis amusement you seek, there'=
s a
camp on the verge of the forest where a dark-haired, good-looking baggage
dances and tells cards. You c=
an
find the place from the noise within, and if you're merry, they'll welcome =
you
royally. Go; and God be with
you!"
The jester turned from the good-natured guard =
and
quickly walked down the road, which wound gracefully through the valley and
lost itself afar in a fringe of woodland.&=
nbsp;
A light pattering on the hard earth behind caused him to look
about. Following was a dog th=
at now
sprang forward with joyous demonstration.&=
nbsp;
The fool stooped and gravely caressed the hound which last he had se=
en
at the princess' feet.
"Why," he said, "thou art now t=
he
fool's only friend at court."
When again he moved on with rapid, nervous str=
ide,
the animal came after. Darker=
grew
the road; deeper hued the fields and stubble; more somber the distant castle
against the gloaming. Only th=
e cry
of a diving night-bird startled the stillness of the tranquil air; a rapaci=
ous
filcher that quickly rose, and swept onward through the sea of night. Its melancholy note echoed in the =
breast
of the fool; mechanically, without relaxing his swift pace, he looked upwar=
d to
follow it, when a short, sharp bark behind him and a premonition of impendi=
ng
danger caused him to spring suddenly aside. At the same time a dagger descende=
d in
the empty air, just grazing the shoulder of the jester, who, recovering
himself, grasped the arm of his assailant and grappled with him. Finding him a man of little streng=
th,
the fool easily threw him to the earth and kneeling on his breast in turn m=
enaced
the assailant with the weapon he had wrested from him.
"Have you any reason, knave, why I should
spare you?" asked the fool.
"If I had--for want of breath--it would f=
ail
me!" answered the miscreant with some difficulty.
The duke's jester arose. "Get up, rogue!" he said=
, and
the man obeyed.
He was a pale, gaunt fellow, with long hair,
unshaven face, hollow cheeks, and dark eyes, set deeply in his head and sha=
ded
by thick, black brows. His dr=
ess
consisted of a rough doublet, with lappet sleeves, carried down to a point,
tight leggings, broad shoes and the puffed upper hose; the entire raiment
frayed and worn; his flesh, or, rather, his bones, showing through the scan=
ty
covering for his legs, while his feet were no better protected than those o=
f a
trooper who has been long on the march.&nb=
sp;
He displayed no fear or enmity; on the contrary, his manner was rath=
er
friendly than otherwise, as though he failed to understand the enormity of =
his
offense and the position in which he was placed. Shifting from one foot to another,=
he
crossed his great, thin hands before him and patiently awaited his captor's=
pleasure. The latter surveyed him curiously,=
and,
noting his woebegone features and beggarly attire, pity, perhaps, assuaged =
his
just anger toward this starveling.
"Why did you wish to kill me?" asked=
the
jester quietly, if somewhat impatiently.
"It was not my wish, Master Fool,"
gently replied the other, but even as he spoke the resignation in his manner
gave way to a look of apprehension.
Lifting his hand, he felt in his breast and glanced about him on the
road. Then his face brightene=
d.
"With your permission--I have e'en dropped
something--"
And stooping, the scamp-scholar picked up a sm=
all,
leathern-bound volume from the ground, where it had fallen during the strug=
gle,
and held it tightly clutched in his hand.&=
nbsp;
"Ah," he muttered with a glad sigh, "I feared I had l=
ost
it--my Horace! And now, Sir J=
ester,
what would you with me?"
"A question I might answer with a
question," replied the fool.
"Having failed in your enterprise, why should I spare you?"=
;
"You shouldn't," returned the
vagabond-student. "The
ancients teach but the irrevocable law of retribution."
To hear a would-be assassin, a castaway out of=
pocket
and heels and elbows, calmly proclaiming the Greek doctrine of inevitablene=
ss,
under such circumstances, would have surprised an observer even more experi=
enced
and worldly than the duke's fool.
Involuntarily his face softened; this pauvre diable gazed upon etern=
ity
with the calm eyes of a Socrates.
"You do not then beg for life?" said=
the
plaisant, his former impatience merging into mild curiosity.
"Is it worth begging for?" asked the
straitened book-worm. "L=
ife
means a pinched stomach, a cold body; Death, no hunger to fear, and a bed t=
hat,
though cold, chills us not. W=
hat we
know not doth not exist--for us; ergo, to lie in the earth is to rest in the
lap of luxury, for all our consciousness of it. But to be unconscious of the ills =
of
this perishable frame, Horace likewise must be as dead to us as our aches a=
nd
pains. Thus is life made pref=
erable
to death. Yes; I would live. =
Hold,
though--" he again hesitated in deep thought--"what avails Horace=
if--"
he began.
"Why, what new data have entered in the
premises?" observed the wondering jester.
"Nanette!" was the gloomy answer.
"Who, pray, is Nanette?" asked the f=
ool,
thrusting his assailant's weapon in his jerkin.
"A wanton haggard whose tongue will run p=
ost
sixteen stages together! Who would make the devil himself malleable; then,
work, hammer and wire-draw him!"
"And what is she to you?"
"My wife! That is, she claims that exalted p=
lace,
having married me one night when I was in my cups through a false priest who
dresses as a Franciscan monk.
'Fools in the court of God' are these priests called, and truly he i=
s a
jester, for certainly is he no true monk.&=
nbsp;
But Nanette, nevertheless, asserts she is the lawful partner of my
sorrows. So work your will on me. =
span>A
stroke, and the shivering spirit is wafted across the Styx."
"And if I gave you not only your life--fo=
r a
consideration hereafter to be mentioned--but a small silver piece as
well?" suggested the jester, who had been for some moments buried in
thought.
"Ha!" ejaculated the scamp-student,
brightening. "Your gift =
would match
the piece I already have and which--dolt that I was!--I overlooked to inclu=
de
in my chain of reasoning." And
thrusting his hand into his ragged doublet, after some search he extracted =
a diminutive
disk upon which he gazed not without ardor. "Thus are we forced to start =
the
chain of reasoning anew," he remarked, "with Horace and this bit =
of
metal on one side of the scales and Nanette on the other. Now unless the devil sits on the b=
eam
with Nanette--which he's like to do--the book and the bit of dross will
outweigh her and we arrive at the certitude that life, qualified as to
duration, may be happily endured."
"What argument does the dross carry,
knave?" demanded the fool, looking down at the hound that crouched at =
his
feet.
"With it may be purchased that which warms
the pinched stomach. With it =
may be
bought an elixir, so strong and magical, it may breed defiance even of
Nanette. Sir Fool, I have con=
cluded
to accept life and the small silver piece."
"Well and good," commented the
jester. "But there are
conditions attached to my clemency."
"Conditions!" retorted the
vagabond. "What are cond=
itions
to a philosopher, once he has reached a logical assurance?"
"First, you must find me a horse. Your Nanette, as I take it, is a g=
ipsy
and in the camp, are, surely, horses."
"But why should you want a horse? 'Tis not far to the castle?" =
said the
puzzled scholar.
"No; but 'tis far away from it. Next, tell me where you got that s=
mall piece
of silver, like the one I have promised you?"
"From Nanette."
"What for?"
"To accomplish that which I have failed to
do," replied the student, willingly.&=
nbsp;
"But, alas, not having earned it, have I the right idly to spend
it?" he added, dolefully, half to himself.
"Why did Nanette--" began the jester=
.
But the other raised his arm with an expostula=
tory
gesture. "Many things I
know," he interrupted; "odds and ends of erudition, but a woman's
mind I know not, nor want to know.
I had as soon question Beelzebub as her; yea, to stir up the devil w=
ith
a stick. If sparing my life is
contingent on my knowing why she does this, or that, then let me pay the de=
bt
of nature."
"No; 'tis slight punishment to take from a
man that which he values so little he must reason with himself to learn if =
he
value it at all," returned the duke's jester, slowly. "We'll waive the question, if=
you find
me the horse."
"'Tis Nanette you must ask. There's but one, old, yet
serviceable--"
"Then take me to Nanette."
"Very well. Follow me, sir; and if you're stil=
l of a
mind when you see her, you can question her."
"Why, is she so weird and witch-like to l=
ook
upon?" said the fool.
"Nay; the devil hides his claws behind the
daintiest fingers, all pink and white.&nbs=
p;
He conceals his cloven hoof in a slipper, truly sylph-like."
"You arouse my curiosity. I would fain meet this fair
monster."
"Come then, Master Fool," replied the
scamp-student, leaving the road for the field to the right, and the jester,
after a moment's deliberation, turned likewise into the stubble, while the
hound, as if satisfied with the service it had performed, slowly retraced i=
ts
way toward the castle, stopping, however, now and then to look around after=
the
two men, whose figures grew smaller and smaller in the distance. For some s=
pace
they walked in silence; then the scholar paused, and, pointing to a low,
rambling house that once had been a hunter's lodge and now had fallen into
decay, exclaimed:
"There's where she lives, fool. I'll warrant she's not alone."=
;
At the same time a clamor of voices and a chor=
us
of rough melody, coming from the cottage, confirmed the assurance his spouse
was not, indeed, holding solitary vigil.
"'Tis e'en thus every night," murmur=
ed
the scamp student in a melancholy tone.&nb=
sp;
"She gathers 'round her the scum of all rudeness; ragged alchem=
ists
of pleasure, who sing incessantly, like grasshoppers on a summer day."=
"Where is the horse?" said the jeste=
r,
abruptly.
"Stalled in one of the rooms for safe
keeping. There are so many ra=
scals
and thieves around, you see--"
"They e'en rob one another!" returned
the fool.
Advancing more cautiously, the two men approac=
hed
the ancient forester's dwelling, the hue and cry sounding louder as they dr=
ew
near, a mingled discord of laughter, shouting and caterwauling, with a woma=
n's
piercing voice at times dominating the general vociferation. The philosopher
shook his head despondingly, while, creeping to one of the windows, the jes=
ter
looked in.
Near the fire was a misshapen creature, a sort=
of
monstrous imbecile that chattered and moaned; a being that bore some
resemblance to the ancient morios once sold at the olden Forum Morionum to =
the
ladies who desired these hideous animals for their amusement. At his feet gamboled a dwarf that
squeaked and screeched, distorting its face in hideous grimaces. Scattered about the room, singing,
bawling or brawling, were indigent morris dancers; bare-footed minstrels; a=
pinched
and needy versificator; a reduced mountebank; a swarthy clown, with a hare's
mouth; joculators of the streets, poor as rats and living as such, straiten=
ed,
heedless fellows, with heads full of nonsense and purses empty, poor in poc=
ket,
but rich in plaisanterie.
Upon the table, with cards in her lap, which s=
he
studied idly, sat a hard-featured, deep-bosomed woman, neither old nor
uncomely, with thick, black hair, coarse as a horse's mane, cheeks red as a
berry, glowing with health. I=
n her
pose was a certain savage grace, an untrammeled freedom which revealed the
vigorous outlines of a well-proportioned figure. Her eye was bright as a diamond an=
d bold
as a trooper's; when she lifted her head she looked disdainfully, scornfull=
y,
fiercely, upon the strange and monstrous company of which she was queen.
"Where can the thief-friar be?" mutt=
ered
the student. "He is usua=
lly not
far off from sweet Nanette."
"You mean the monk who had a hand in your
nuptials?"
"Who else? He, the source of all ill. He who gave her the money of which=
she
e'en presented me a moiety. W=
hoever
employed him--was it your friends, gentle sir?--rewarded him with gold. Being a craven rogue, I e'en suspe=
ct him
of shifting the task to myself for a beggarly pittance, whilst he is off wi=
th
the lion's share."
The jester, watching the company within, made =
no
reply. From the student to the
woman, to the friar, was a chain leading--where? He found it not difficult to
surmise. Suddenly Nanette thr=
ew
down the cards and laughed harshly.
"Neither the devil nor his imps could read
the things that are happening in the castle!"
Then abruptly springing from the table, she ma=
de
her way to the fire, over which hung a pot of some savory stew, a magnet to=
the
company's sharp desire; for throughout all the boisterous merriment wanderi=
ng glances
had invariably returned to it. To
reach the kettle and make herself mistress of the culinary preparations, she
cuffed a dwarf with such vigor that he hobbled howling from a suspicious
proximity to the appetizing mess to a safe refuge beneath the table. With equally dauntless spirit, she
pushed aside the herculean morio who had been childishly standing over the =
pot,
licking his fingers in eager anticipation; whereupon the imbecile set up a
sharp cry that blended with the deeper roar of the lilliputian.
"And I caught the rabbit!" piteously
bellowed the latter from his retreat.
"And I found the turnips!" cried the
colossal idiot, tears running down his lubberly cheeks.
"Peace, you demons!" exclaimed the
woman, waving the spoon at them, "or, by the hell-born, you'll ne'er t=
aste
morsel of it!"
Quieted by this stupendous threat, they closed
their mouths and opened their eyes but the wider, while the gipsy spouse of=
the
student stirred and stirred the mixture in the iron pot, gazing at the fire
with frowning brow as though she would read some page of the future in the =
leaping
flames.
"Saw you but now how she served the dwarf=
and
the overgrown lump?" whispered the student to the duke's fool. "Are you still minded to meet
her?"
For answer the jester left the window, stepped=
to
the door, and, opening it, strode into the room.
As the duke's fool suddenly appeared in the
crowded apartment, the hubbub abruptly ceased; the minstrels and mountebanks
gazed in surprise at the slender figure of the alien jester whose rich garm=
ents
proclaimed him a personage of importance, one who had reached that pinnacle=
in
buffoonery, the high office of court plaisant. The morio crouched against the wal=
l, his
fear of the new-comer as great as his body was large; the garret minstrels
stopped strumming their instruments, while the woman at the fire uttered a
quick exclamation and dropped the spoon with a clatter to the floor, where =
it
was promptly seized by the dwarf, who, taking advantage of the woman's cons=
ternation,
thrust it greedily to his lips. But
soon recovering from her wonderment, the gipsy soundly boxed the dwarf's ea=
rs, recovered
her spoon and set herself once more to stirring the contents of the pot.
The jester observed her for a moment--the heav=
y,
bare arm moving round and round over the kettle; her sunburnt legs uncovere=
d to
the knee; the masculine attitude of her figure with the torn and worn garme=
nts
that covered her--and she seemed to him a veritable trull of disorder and s=
qualor. The gipsy, too, looked at him over=
her
shoulder, and, as she gazed, her hand went slower and slower, until all mot=
ion
ceased, and the spoon lay on the edge of the pot, when she turned deliberat=
ely,
offering him the full sight of her bold cheeks and shameless eyes.
"Are you Nanette, wife of this
philosopher?" asked the duke's fool, approaching, and indicating the
miserable scamp who clung near the doorway as one undecided whether to ente=
r or
run away.
"Yes; I am Nanette, his true and lawful
spouse," she answered with a shrill laugh. "Wilt come to me, true-love?&=
quot;
she called out to her apprehensive yoke-mate.
"Nay; I'll go out in the air a while,&quo=
t;
hurriedly replied the vagabond-scholar, and quickly vanished.
"Ah, how he loves me!" she continued=
.
"So much he prefers a cony-burrow to his =
own
fireside," said the fool dryly.
"A hole i' the earth is too good for such=
a
scurvy fellow," she retorted.
"But what would you here, fool? A song, a jest, a dance? Or have y=
ou
come to learn a new story, or ballad, for the lordlings you must
entertain?" Unabashed, s=
he
approached a step nearer.
"Your stories, mistress, would be unsuited
for the court, and your ballads best unsung," he retorted. "I came, not to sharpen my wi=
ts, but
to learn from whom the thief-friar got the small piece of silver you gave y=
our
consort, and, also, to procure a horse."
Her brazen eyes wavered. "A horse and a fool flying,&q=
uot;
she muttered. "Even what the cards showed. The fool seeking the duke!" A puzzled look crossed her face. "But the duke is here?" =
she
continued to herself. "A
strange riddle! All the signs=
show
devilment, but what it is--"
"Good Nanette," interrupted the jest=
er,
satirically, "I have no time for spells or incantation."
"How dared you come here," she said,
hoarsely, "after--"
"After your mate proved but an indifferent
servant of yours?" he concluded, meeting her sullen gaze with one so s=
tern
and inflexible that before it her eyes fell.
"Do you not know," she said, endeavo=
ring
to maintain a hardened front, "I have but to say the word, and all the=
se
friends of mine would tear you to pieces?&=
nbsp;
What would you do, my pretty fellows, an I ask you?" she cried =
out,
her voice rising audaciously.
"Would you suffer this duke's jester to stand against me?"=
Glances of suspicion and animosity shot from a
score of eyes; fists were half-clenched; knives appeared in a trice from the
concealment of rags, and a low murmur arose from the gathering. Even the imbecile morio, nature's
trembling coward, became suddenly valiant, and, with huge frame uplifted,
seemed about to spring savagely upon the fool. An expression of disgust replaced =
all
other feeling on the features of the duke's plaisant.
"Spare me your threats, Nanette," he
replied, coldly. "Had yo=
u intended
to set them on me, you would have done it long ere this."
The woman hesitated. His calm, almost contemptuous,
confidence was not without its effect upon her. Had he trembled, she would have sp=
oken, but
before his disdain, and the gay splendor of his attire, conspicuous amid ra=
gs
from rubbish heaps, she felt a sudden consciousness of her own unclean
environment; at the same time unusual warnings in her conjurations recurred=
to
her. Something about him--was=
it
dignity or pride or a nameless fear she herself experienced but could not u=
nderstand?--beat
down her eyes and she turned them doggedly away.
Abruptly she moved to the fire and again began=
to
stir the mess, while the suppressed excitement in the room at once
subsided. A minstrel lightly
touched his battered dulcimer; a poet hummed a song in the dialect of thiev=
es;
a juggler began practising some deft work for hand and eye, and he of the h=
are
lip sank quietly into a corner and patiently watched the simmering pot. The dwarf, with some misgiving, as=
a dog
that is beaten crawls cautiously out of its kennel, crept from beneath the
table.
"Oh, mistress," he whimpered, "=
some
of it has boiled over!"
"Boiled over!" echoed the morio,
mournfully.
At the same time the woman grasped the handle =
of
the heavy kettle, lifted it from the jack, displaying in her bared arms the
muscles of a man, and, staggering beneath the load, bore it steaming to the
table. Amid the subsequent confusion, the gipsy held aloof from the demolit=
ion of
the rabbit, and, seating herself at the foot of the table, began moodily on=
ce
more to turn the cards.
A merry droll acted as host and dipped freely =
for
all with the long spoon, commenting the while he dispensed the mess accordi=
ng
to the wants of the miscellaneous gathering: "Pot-luck! 'Tis luck, and they're no field mi=
ce in
it! There's everything else!&=
quot;
or "A bit of rabbit, my masters!
I'll warrant he'll hop down your throats as fast as e'er he jumped a
hillock." And, when one =
ate
too greedily, slap went a spoonful of gravy o'er him with: "I thought =
you
would catch it, knave!"
"Are they not blithe devils 'round the
caldron?" muttered the woman. "There it is again!"--Bending =
over
the bits of pasteboard on the table. "The duke here! And the fool on horseback! What do the cards mean?"
"That I must have the horse, Nanette,&quo= t; said the duke's jester, standing motionless and firm before the fireplace.<= o:p>
"Are you the fool?" she asked, more =
to
herself than him. "Why d=
oes he
wish to ride away?"
"Will you sell me the horse?" he
demanded.
She hesitated. Around them danced the shadows of =
the
kettle-gourmands:
"A kern and a drole, a varlet and a blade A drab and a rep, a skit and a
jade--"
sang the street poet; the dwarf and the morio =
(a
lilliputian and Gulliver) fought a mimic combat; the juggler and the clown,=
who
could eat no more, were keeping time to a chorus by beating with their empt=
y trenchers
on the table.
"Sell you the horse? For what?" asked the gipsy.
"For five gold pieces."
"A fool with five gold pieces!" she
exclaimed, incredulously.
"Here!&n=
bsp;
You may see them." And
he opened a purse he carried at his girdle.
"Do not let them know," she said,
hurriedly. "They would k=
ill
you and--"
"You would not get the money," he ad= ded, significantly. "If you a= ct quickly, find me a horse and let me go; it is you, not they, who will profit."<= o:p>
Abruptly she rose. "It is fate," she remark=
ed,
her eyes greedy.
His glance, as he stood there, proud and stern,
cut her sharply. "Say cu=
pidity,
Nanette!" he laughed softly.
"It is more profitable not to betray me. In the one case you get much; in t=
he
other, little."
"Stay here," she replied, hastily. "I'll fetch the horse."<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> And vanished.
A moment he remained, then resolutely turning =
to
the door through which she had disappeared, opened it, and found himself in=
a
combined sleeping-room and stable; a dark apartment, with floor of hardened=
earth
and a single window, open to wind and weather. The atmosphere in this chamber for=
man
and beast was impregnated with the smell of mold and dry-rot, mingled with =
the
livelier effluvium of dirt and grime of years; but amid the malodor and mus=
tiness,
on a couch under the window, slumbered and snored the false Franciscan
monk. By his side was a tanka=
rd,
half-filled with stale sack, and in his hand he clutched a gold piece as th=
ough
he had had an intimation it would be safer there than elsewhere on his pers=
on
during the pot-valiant sleep he had deliberately courted. His hood had fallen back, displayi=
ng a
bullet head, red cheeks and purple nose, while the wooden beads of this sot=
tish
counterfeit of a friar trailed from his girdle on the ground. From a stall =
in a
far corner a large, bony-looking nag turned its head reproachfully, as if
mentally protesting against such foul quarters and the poor company they
offered. Its melancholy whinn=
y upon
the appearance of the woman was a sigh for freedom; a sad suspiration to the
memory of radiant clover fields or poppy-starred meadows.
"Why, here's a holy man worn out by too m=
any
paternosters," commented the duke's fool, standing on the threshold; a=
nd
then gazed from the gold piece in the monk's hand to the woman. "I need not ask where you got=
the
silver, Nanette. 'Tis a chain=
of
evidence leading--where?"
The gipsy replied only with dark looks, regard=
ing
his intrusion in this inner sanctuary as a fresh provocation for her just
displeasure. The jester, howe=
ver,
paid no attention to these signs of new acerbity on her face.
Crossing to the couch, he shook the monk
vigorously, but the latter only held his piece of money tighter like a miser
whose treasure is threatened, and snored the louder. Again the fool essayed to waken hi=
m, and
this time he opened his eyes, felt for his beads and commenced to mutter a
prayer in Latin words, strung together in meaningless phrases.
"Why," commented the jester, "h=
is
learning is as false as his cloak. Wake up, sirrah! Would you approach Heaven's gate w=
ith a
feigned prayer on your lips and a toss-pot in your hand?"
"Christe tuum--I absolve you! I absolve you!" muttered the =
friar.
"Go your way in peace."
"Hear me, thou trumped-up monk; do you wa=
nt
another piece of gold?"
"Gold!" repeated the other,
tipsily. "What--what for=
? To--to help some fool to paradise-=
-or
purgatory? 'Tis for the Churc=
h I
beg, good people. The holy
Church--Church I say!"
Winking and blinking, seeing nothing before hi=
m,
he held out a trembling hand. "The
piece of gold--give it to me!" he mumbled.
"Yes; in exchange for your cloak,"
answered the jester.
"My cloak, thou horse-leech! Sell my skin for--piece of gold! Want my cloak? Take it!" And the dissembler rolled over,
extending his arms. The jester grasped the garment by the sleeves and with =
some
difficulty whipped it from him.
"Now hand me--the money and--cover me with
rags that--I may sleep," continued the beer-bibber. "So"--as he grasped the =
money
the fool gave him and stretched himself luxuriously beneath a noisome litte=
r of
cast-off clothes and rubbish--"I languish in ecstasies! The angels--are singing around me.=
"
With growing surprise and ill-humor had the wo=
man
observed this novel proceeding, and now, when the jester had himself donned=
the
false friar's gown, she said grudgingly:
"You did not give him one of the five
pieces?"
"No; there are still five left."
"A bit of gold for a cloak!" she
grumbled. "It is
overmuch. But there!"
He grasped the bridle of the horse, handed her=
the
promised reward, and, drawing the hood of the monk's garment over his head,=
led
the nag out into the open air. The
door closed quickly behind him and he heard the wooden bolt as it shot into
place. Above the dark outline=
s of
the forest, the moon, full-orbed, now shone in the sky, with a myriad atten=
dant
stars, its silver beams flooding the open spaces and revealing every detail,
soft, dreamy, yet distinct. A
languorous, redolent air just stirred the waving grain, on which rested a
glossy shimmer.
As the fool was about to spring upon the horse=
, a
shadow suddenly appeared around the corner of the house and the animal danc=
ed
aside in affright. Before the
jester could quiet and mount the nag, the shadow resolved itself into a man,
and, behind him, came a numerous band, the play of light on helmet, sword a=
nd
dagger revealing them as a party of troopers. Doubtless having indulged freely, =
they
had become inclined to new adventures, and accordingly had bent their foots=
teps
toward the "little house on the verge of the wood," where merry
company was always to be found. At
the sight of the duke's fool and the horse they pressed forward, and, with =
one
accord, surrounded him.
"The Franciscan monk!" cried one.
"Where is he going so late with the
nag?" asked another.
"He's off to confess some one,"
exclaimed a third.
"A petticoat, most likely, the rogue!&quo=
t;
rejoined the second speaker.
"Well, what have we to do with his love
affairs?" laughed the first trooper.&=
nbsp;
"Ride on, good father, and keep tryst."
"Yes, ride on!" the others called ou=
t.
The monk bowed. An interruption which had promised=
to
defeat his designs seemed drawing to a harmless conclusion. His hopes ran high; the soldiers h=
ad not
yet penetrated beneath the costume; he had already determined to leap upon =
the
horse in a rush for freedom when a heavy, detaining hand was laid on his
shoulder.
"One moment, knave!" said a deep voi=
ce,
and, wheeling sharply, the fool looked into the keen, ferret eyes of the
trooper with the red mustaches.
"I have a question to ask.&nbs=
p;
Have you done that which you were to do?"
The friar nodded his assent. "The fool will trouble the du=
ke no
more," he answered.
"Ah, he is"--began the soldier.
"Even so. And now pray let me pass."
"Yes; let him pass!" urged one of the
soldiers. "Would you kee=
p some
longing trollop waiting?"
The leader of the troopers did not answer; his
glance was bent upon the ground.
"Yes, you may go," he commented, "when--" and
suddenly thrust forth an arm and pulled back the enshrouding cloak.
"The duke's fool!" he cried. "Close in, rogues! Let him not escape."
Fiercely the fool's hand sought his breast; th=
en,
swiftly realizing that it needed but a pretext to bring about the end desir=
ed
by the pretender in the castle, with an effort he restrained himself, and c=
onfronted
his assailants, outwardly calm.
"'Tis a poor jest which fails," he s=
aid,
easily.
"Jest!" grimly returned he of the red
mustaches. "Call you it =
a jest,
this monk's disguise? Once on=
the
horse, it would have been no jest, and I'll warrant you would soon have left
the castle far behind. Yes; a=
nd but
for the cloven foot, the jest, as you call it, would have succeeded, too. Had it not been," he added, &=
quot;for
the pointed, silken shoe, peeping out from beneath the holy robe--a coverin=
g of
vanity, instead of holy nakedness--you would certainly have deceived me, an=
d"--with
a brusque laugh--"slipped away from your master, the duke."
"The duke?" said the jester, as cast=
ing
the now useless cloak from him, he deliberately scrutinized the rogue.
"The duke," returned the man,
stolidly. "Well, this sp=
oils
our sport for to-night, knaves," he went on, turning to the other
troopers, "for we must e'en escort the jester back to the castle."=
;
"Beshrew him!" they answered, of one
accord. "A plague upon
him!"
And slowly the fool and the soldiers began to
retrace their way across the moon-lit fields, the trooper with the red
mustaches grumbling as they went: "Such luck to turn back now, with all
those mad-caps right under our nose!
A curse to a dry march over a dusty meadow! An unsanctified dog of a monk! 'Tis like a campaign, with naught =
but ditch
water to drink. The devil tak=
e the
friar and the jester! Forward! the fool in the center, and those he would h=
ave
fooled around him!"
And when they disappeared in the distance the
gipsy woman might have been seen leaving the house by the stable door and
leading in the horse.
=
Between Caillette and the duke's jester had ar=
isen
one of those friendships which spring more from similitude than unlikeness;=
an
amity of which each had been unconscious in its inception, but which had gr=
adually
grown into a sentiment of comradeship.&nbs=
p;
Caillette was of noble mien, graceful manner and elegant address; a
soldier by preference; a jester against his will, forced to the office by t=
he nobleman
who had cared for and educated him.
In the duke's fool he had found his other self; a man who like himse=
lf lent
dignity to the gentle art of jesting; who could turn a rhyme and raise a la=
ugh
without resorting to grossness.
The line of demarcation between the clown and =
the
merry-and-wise wit was, in those days, not clearly drawn. The stories of the former, which m=
ade
the matrons look down and the maidens to hide their faces, were often more
appreciated by the inebriate nobles than some subtile comicality or nimble
lines of poetry, that would serve to take home and think over, and which
improved with time like a wine of sound body. Triboulet abused the ancient =
art
of foolery, thought Caillette; the duke's plaisant played upon it with true
drollery, and as a master who has a delicate ear for an instrument, so
Caillette, being sensitive to broadness or stupidity which masked as humor =
or
pleasantry, turned naturally from the mountebank to the true jester.
Moreover, Caillette experienced a superior
sadness, sifted through years of infestivity and gloom, beginning when Diane
was led to the altar by the grand seneschal of Normandy, that threw an actu=
al,
albeit cynical, interest about the love-tragedy of the duke's fool which th=
e other
divined and--from his own past heart-throbs--understood. The plaisant to the princess' betr=
othed,
Caillette would have sworn, was of gentle birth; his face, manner and beari=
ng
proclaimed it; he was, also, a scholar and a poet; his courage, which Caill=
ette
divined, fitted him for the higher office of arms. Certainly, he became an interesting
companion, and the French jester sought his company on every occasion. And this fellowship, or intimacy, =
which
he courted was destined to send Caillette forth on a strange and adventures=
ome
mission.
The day following the return of the duke's foo=
l to
the castle, Francis, who early in his reign had sought to model his life af=
ter
the chivalrous romances, inaugurated a splendid and pompous tournament. Some
time before, the pursuivants had proclaimed the event and distributed to the
knights who were to take active part the shields of arms of the four juges-=
diseurs,
or umpires of the field. On t=
his gala
occasion the scaffolds and stands surrounding the arena were bedecked in si=
lks
of bright colors; against the cloudless sky a thousand festal flags waved a=
nd
fluttered in the gentle breeze; beneath the tasseled awning festoons of bri=
ght
flowers embellished gorgeous hangings and tapestries.
The king rode from the castle under a pavilion=
of
cloth of gold and purple velvet, with the letters F and R, boldly outlined,
followed by ladies and courtiers, pages and attendants. Amid the shouts and huzzas of the
people, the monarch and his retinue took their places in the center of the
stand, the royal box hung with ornate brocades and trimmings.
In an inclosure of white, next to that of the
king, was seated the Lady of the Tournament, the Princess Louise, and her m=
aids
of honor, arrayed all in snowy garb, and, against the garish brilliancy of =
the
general background, a pompous pageantry of colors, the decoration of this d=
ainty
nook shone in silvery contrast. A
garland of flowers was the only crown the lady wore; no other adornment had=
her
fair shoulders save their own argent beauty, of which the fashion of the day
permitted a discernible suggestion.
One arm hung languorously across the railing, as she leaned forward =
with
seeming carelessness, but intently directed her glance to the scene below,
where the attendants were arranging the ring or leading the wondrously
pranked-out chargers to their stalls.
Behind her, motionless as a statue, with face =
that
looked paler, and lips the redder, and hair the blacker, stood the maid
Jacqueline. If the casual gla=
nce
saw first the blond head, the creamy arms and sunny blue eyes of the prince=
ss,
it was apt to linger with almost a start of wonder upon the striking figure=
of
the jestress, a nocturnal touch in a pearly picture.
"On my word, there's a decorative creature
for any lord to have in his house," murmured the aged chancellor of the
kingdom, sitting near the monarch.
"Who is she?"
"A beggar's brat Francis found here when =
he
took the castle," replied the beribboned spark addressed. "You know the story?"
"Yes," said the white-haired diploma=
t,
half-sadly. "This castle=
once belonged
to the great Constable of Dubrois.
When he fell from favor the king besieged him; the constable fled and
died in Spain. That much, of
course, I--and the world--know. But
the girl--"
"When our victorious monarch took possess=
ion
of this ancient pile," explained the willing courtier, "the only =
ones
left in it were an old gamekeeper and his daughter, a gipsy-like maid who r=
an
wild in the woods. Time hath =
tamed
her somewhat, but there she stands."
"And what sad memories of a noble but
unfortunate gentleman cluster around her!" muttered the chancellor.
A great murmur, resolving itself into shouts a=
nd
resounding outcry, interrupted the noble's reminiscent mood, as a thick-set
figure in richly chased armor, mounted on a massive horse, crossed the aren=
a.
"Bon Vouloir!" they cried. "Bon Vouloir!"
It was the name assumed by the free baron for =
the
day, while other knights were known for the time being by such euphonious a=
nd
chivalrous appellations as Vaillant Desyr, Bon Espoir or Coeur Loyal. Bon Vouloir, upon this popular
demonstration, reined his steed, and, removing his head-covering, bowed
reverently to the king and his suite, deeply to the Lady of the Tournament =
and
her retinue, and carelessly to the vociferous multitude, after which he ret=
ired
to a large tent of crimson and gold, set apart for his convenience and
pleasure.
From the purple box the monarch had nodded
graciously and from the silver bower the lady had smiled softly, so that the
duke had no reason for dissatisfaction; the attitude of the crowd was of sm=
all
moment, an unmusical accompaniment to the potent pantomime, of which the
principal figures were Francis, the King Arthur of Europe, and the princess=
, queen
of beauty's unbounded realm.
In front of the duke's pavilion was hung his
shield, and by its side stood his squire, fancifully dressed in rich
colors. Behind ranged the men=
of
arms, whose lances formed a fence to hold in check the people from far and
wide, among whom the pick-purses, light-fingered scamps, and sturdy beggars
conscientiously circulated, plying themselves assiduously. The fashion of the day prescribed
carrying the purse and the dagger dangling from the girdle, and many a good
citizen departed from the tourney without the one and with the other, and i=
t is
needless to say which of the two articles the filcher left its owner. And none was more enthusiastic or
demonstrative of the features of the lists than these rapacious riflers, who
loudly cheered the merry monarch or shouted for his gallant knights, while
deftly cutting purse-cords or despoiling honest country dames of brooches,
clasps or other treasured articles of adornment.
Near the duke's pavilion, to the right, had be=
en
pitched a commodious tent of yellow material, with ropes of the same color,=
and
a fool's cap crowning the pole in place of the customary banner. Over the entrance was suspended the
jester's gilded wand and a staff, from which hung a blown bladder. Here were quartered the court jest=
ers
whom Francis had commanded to be fittingly attired for the lists and to take
part in the general combat. I=
n vain
had Triboulet pleaded that they would occasion more merriment if assigned to
the king's box than doomed to the arena.
"That may be," Francis had answered,
"but on this occasion all the people must witness your antics."
"Antics!" Triboulet had shuddered. "An I should be killed, your =
Majesty?"
"Then it will be amusing to see you quiet=
for
once in your life," had been the laughing reply.
And with this poor assurance the dwarf had been
obliged to content himself--not merrily, 'tis true, but with much inward
disquietude, secretly execrating his monarch for this revival of ancient an=
d barbarous
practices.
Now, in the rear of the jesters' pavilion, his
face was yellow with trepidation, as the armorer buckled on the iron plates
about his stunted figure, fastening and riveting them in such manner, he
mentally concluded he should never emerge from that frightful shell.
"The worst of it is," dryly remarked=
the
hunchback's valet as he briskly plied his little hammer, "these clothes
are so heavy you couldn't run away if you wanted to."
"Oh, that the duke were married and out of
the kingdom!" Triboulet fervently wished, and the fiery comments of Ma=
rot,
Villot and those other reckless spirits, who seemed to mind no more the
prospect of being spitted on a lance than if it were but a novel and not
unpleasant experience to look forward to, in no wise served to assuage his =
heart-sinking.
At the entrance of the pavilion stood Caillett=
e,
who had watched the passing of Bon Vouloir and now was gazing upward into a=
sea
of faces from whence came a hum of voices like the buzzing of unnumbered be=
es.
"Certes," he commented, "the ki=
ng
makes much of this unmannered, lumpish, beer-drinking noble who is going to=
wed
the princess."
"Caillette," said the low voice of t=
he
duke's jester at his elbow, "would you see a woman undone?"
"Why, mon ami!" lightly answered the
French fool, "I've seen many undone--by themselves."
"Ah," returned the other, "I ap=
peal
to your chivalry, and you answer with a jest."
"How else," asked Caillette, with a
peculiar smile that was at once sweet and mournful, "can one take woma=
n,
save as a jest--a pleasant mockery?"
"Your irony precludes the test of
friendship--the service I was about to ask of you," retorted the duke's
fool, gravely.
"Test of friendship!" exclaimed the
poet. "'Tis the only thi=
ng I believe
in. Love! What is it? A flame! a breath! Look out there--at the flatterers =
and
royal sycophants. Those are y=
our
emissaries of love. Ye gods! =
into
the breasts of what jack-a-dandies and parasites has descended the unquench=
able
fire of Jove! Now as for comr=
adeship"--placing
his hand affectionately on the other's shoulder--"by Castor and Pollux,
and all the other inseparables, 'tis another thing. But expound this strange anomaly--a
woman wronged. Who is the
woman?"
"The Princess Louise!"
Caillette glanced from the place where he stoo=
d to
the center of the stand and the white bower, inclining from which was a wom=
an,
haughty, fair, beautiful; one whose face attracted the attention of the mul=
titude
and who seemed not unhappy in being thus scrutinized and admired. Shaking his head slowly, the court=
poet
dropped his eyes and studied the sand at his feet.
"She looks not wronged," he said,
dryly. "She appears to e=
njoy
her triumphs."
"And yet, Caillette, 'tis all a farce,&qu=
ot;
answered the duke's jester.
"So have I--thought--on other
occasions."
And again his gaze flew upward, not, however, =
to
the lady whom Francis had gallantly chosen for Queen of Beauty, but, despite
his alleged cynicism, to a corner of the king's own box, where sat she who =
had
once been a laughing maid by his side and with whom he had played that dive=
rting
pastoral, called "First Love."&n=
bsp;
It was only an instant's return into the farcical but joyous past, a=
nd a
moment later he was sharply recalled into the arid present by the words of =
his
companion.
"The man the Princess Louise is going to
marry is no more Robert, the Duke of Friedwald, than you are!" exclaim=
ed
the foreign fool. "He is=
the
bastard of Pfalz-Urfeld, the so-called free baron of Hochfels. His castle commands the road betwe=
en the
true duke and Francis' domains. He made himself master of all the
correspondence, conceived the plan to come here himself and intends to carry
off the true lord's bride. Indeed, in private, he has acknowledged it all to
me, and, failing to corrupt me to his service, last night set an assassin to
kill me."
His listener, with folded arms and attentive m=
ien,
kept his eyes fixed steadily upon the narrator, as if he doubted the eviden=
ce
of his senses. Without, the
marshals had taken their places in the lists and another stentorian dissona=
nce
greeted these officers of the field from the good-humored gathering, which,
basking in the anticipation of the feast they knew would follow the pageant=
ry,
clapped their hands and flung up their caps at the least provocation for
rejoicing. Upon the two jeste=
rs
this scene of jubilation was lost, Caillette merely bending closer to the
other, with:
"But why have you not denounced him to the
king?"
"Because of my foolhardiness in tacitly
accepting at first this free-booter as my master."
Caillette shot a keen glance at the other and
smiled. His eyes said: "=
Foolhardiness! Was it not, rather, some other
emotion? Had not the princess
leaned more than graciously toward her betrothed and--"
"I thought him but some flimsy
adventurer," went on the duke's fool, hastily, "and told myself I
would see the play played out, holding the key to the situation, and--"=
;
"You underestimated him?"
"Exactly. His plans were cunningly laid, and
now--who am I that the king should listen to me? At best, if I denounce him, they w=
ould probably
consider it a bit of pleasantry, or--madness."
"Yes," reluctantly assented Caillett=
e,
Triboulet's words, "a fool in love with the princess!" recurring =
to
him; "it would be undoubtedly even as you say."
The duke's jester looked down thoughtfully.
From the day when, as young men, both had been
aspirants for the imperial throne of Germany and Francis had suffered defea=
t,
the latter had assiduously devoted himself to the retributory task of gaini=
ng
the ascendancy over his successful rival.&=
nbsp;
And now, although the tempering years had assuaged their erstwhile
passions and each had professed to eschew war and its violence, might not t=
his
temptation prove too great for Francis to resist a last blow at the emperor=
's
prestige? How easy to affect
disbelief of a fool, to overthrow the fabric of friendship between Charles =
and
himself, and at the same time apparently not violate good faith or conscien=
ce!
The voice of Caillette broke in upon his thoug=
hts.
"You will not then attempt to denounce
him?"
The fool hesitated. "Alone--out of favor with the=
king,
I like not to risk the outcome--but--if I may depend upon you--"
"Did ever friend refuse such a call?"
exclaimed Caillette, promptly. A quick
glance of gratitude flashed from the other's eyes.
"There is one flaw in the free baron's
position," resumed the duke's fool, more confidently; "a fatal one
'twill prove, if it is possible to carry out my plans. He thinks the emperor is in Austri=
a, and
his followers guard the road through the mountains. He tells himself not only are the
emperor and the Duke of Friedwald too far distant to hear of the pretender =
and
interfere with the nuptials, but that he obviates even the contingency of t=
heir
learning of that matter at all by controlling the way through which the
messengers must go. Thus rest=
s he
in double security--but an imaginary one."
"What mean you?" asked Caillette,
attentively, from his manner giving fuller credence to the extraordinary ne=
ws
he had just learned.
"That Charles, the emperor, is not in
Austria, but in Aragon at Saragossa, where he can be reached in time to pre=
vent
the marriage. Just before my leaving, the emperor, to my certain knowledge,
secretly departed for Spain on matters pertaining to the governing of Arago=
n. Charles
plays a deep game in the affairs of Europe, though he works ever silently a=
nd
unobtrusively. Is he not alwa=
ys
beforehand with your king? Wh=
en
Francis was preparing the gorgeous field of the cloth of gold for his Engli=
sh
brother, did not Charles quietly leave for the little isle, and there, with=
out
beat of drum, arrange his own affairs before Henry was even seen by your
pleasure-loving monarch? Yes;=
to the
impostor and to Francis, Charles is in Austria; to us--for now you share my
secret--is he in Spain, where by swift riding he may be found, and yet
interdict in this matter."
"Then why--haven't you ere this fled to t=
he
emperor with the news?"
"Last night I had determined to get away,
when first I was assaulted by an assassin of the impostor, and next detaine=
d by
his troop and brought back to the castle.&=
nbsp;
I had even left on foot, trusting to excite less suspicion, and hopi=
ng
to find a horse on the way, but fortune was with the pretender. So here am I, closely watched--and
waiting," he added grimly.
The listener's demeanor was imperturbability
itself. He knew why the other=
had
taken him into his confidence, and understood the silent appeal as plainly =
as
though words had uttered it.
Perhaps he duly weighed the perils of a flight without permission fr=
om
the court of the exacting and capricious monarch, and considered the hazard=
s of
the trip itself through a wild and brigand-infested country. Possibly, the thought of the princ=
ess
moved him, for despite his irony, it was his mocking fate to entertain in h=
is
breast, against his will, a covert sympathy for the gentler sex; or, looking
into the passionate face of his companion, he may have been conscious of so=
me
bond of brotherhood, a fellow-feeling that could not resist the call upon h=
is
good-will and amicable efforts. The
indifference faded from Caillette's face and almost a boyish enthusiasm sho=
ne
in his eyes.
"Mon ami, I'll do it!" he exclaimed,
lightly. "I'll ride to t=
he emperor
for you."
Silently the jester of the duke wrung his
hand. "I've long sighed =
for an
adventure," laughed Caillette.
"And here is the opportunity. Caillette, a knight-errant! But"--his face falling--"=
;the
emperor will look on me as a madman."
"Nay," replied the duke's plaisant,
"here is a letter. When =
he
reads it he will, at least, think the affair worth consideration. He knows me, and trusts my fidelit=
y, and
will be assured I would not jest on such a serious matter. Believe me, he will receive you as=
more
than a madman."
"Why, then, 'twill be a rare adventure,&q=
uot;
commented the other. "Wandering in the country; the beautiful country,
where I was reared; away from the madness of courts. Already I hear the wanton breezes =
sighing
in Sapphic softness and the forests' elegiac murmur. Tell me, how shall I ride?"
"As a knight to the border; thence onward=
as
a minstrel. In Spain there's =
always
a welcome for a blithe singer."
"'Tis fortunate I learned some Spanish lo=
ve
songs from a fair señora who was in Charles' retinue the time he vis=
ited
Francis," added Caillette.
"An I should fail?" he continued, more gravely.
"You will not fail," was the confide=
nt
reply.
"I am of your mind, but things will
happen--sometimes--and why do you not speak to the princess herself--to warn
her--"
"Speak to her!" repeated the duke's
jester, a shadow on his brow. "When he has appealed to her,
perhaps--when--" He brok=
e off
abruptly. His tone was proud; in his eyes a look which Caillette afterward =
understood. As it was, the latter nodded his h=
ead
wisely.
"A woman whose fancy is touched is--what =
she
is," he commented, generally.
"Truly it would be a more thankless task, even, than approaching
the king. For women were ever
creatures of caprice, not to be governed by any court of logic, but by the
whimsical, fantastic rules of Marguerite's court. Court!" he exclaimed. "The word suggests law; reaso=
n;
where merit hath justice. Cal=
l it
not Love's Court, but love's caprice, or crochet. But look you, there's another chan=
nel to
the princess' mind--yonder black-browed maid--our ally in motley--when she
chooses to wear it--Jacqueline."
"She likes me not," returned the
fool. "Would she believe=
me in
such an important matter?"
"I'm afraid not," tranquilly replied
Caillette, "in view of the improbability of your tale and the undoubted
credentials held by this pretender.
For my part, to look at the fellow was almost enough. But to the ladies, his brutality s=
ignifieth
strength and power; and his uncouthness, originality and genius. Marguerite, even, is prepossessed =
in his
favor and has written a platonic poem in his honor. As for the princess"--pressin=
g the
other's arm gently--"do you not know, mon ami, that women are all
alike? There is but one they
obey--the king--that is as high as their ambitions can reach--and even him =
they
deceive. Why, the Countess
d'Etampes--but this is no time for gossip. We are fools, you and I, and lov=
e,
my friend, is but broad farce at the best."
Even as he spoke thus, however, from the lists
came the voices of the well-instructed heralds, secretaries of the occasion,
who had delved deeply into the practices of the merry and ancient pastime:
"Love of ladies! For you=
and
glory! Chivalry but fights for
love. Look down, fair eyes!&q=
uot; a
peroration which was answered with many pieces of silver from the galleries
above, and which the gorgeously dressed officials readily unbent to
gather. Among the fair hands =
which
rewarded this perfunctory apostrophe to the tender passion none was more la=
vish
in offerings than those matrons and maids in the vicinity of the king. A satirical smile again marred
Caillette's face, but he kept his reflections to himself, reverting to the
business of the moment.
"I should be off at once!" he
cried. "But what can we
do? The king hath commanded a=
ll the
jesters to appear in the tournament to-day, properly armed and armored, the
better to make sprightlier sport amid the ponderous pastime of the
knights. Here am I bound to s=
hine
on horseback, willy-nilly. Ye=
t this
matter of yours is pressing. =
Stay! I
have it. I can e'en fall from=
my
horse, by a ruse, retire from the field, and fly southward."
"Then will I wish you Godspeed, now,"
said the duke's fool. "N=
ever was
a stancher heart than thine, Caillette, or a truer friend."
"One word," returned the other, not
without a trace of feeling which even his cynicism could not hide. "Beware of the false duke in =
the arena! It will be his opportunity to--&qu=
ot;
"I understand," answered the duke's
fool, again warmly pressing Caillette's hand, "but with the knowledge =
you
are fleeing to Spain I have no fear for the future. If we meet not after to-day--"=
;
"Why, life's but a span, and our friendsh=
ip
has been short, but sweet," added the other.
Now without sounded a flourish of trumpets and
every glance was expectantly down-turned from the crowded stand, as with a
clatter of hoofs and waving of plumes France's young chivalry dashed into t=
he lists,
divided into two parties, took their respective places and, at a signal from
the musicians, started impetuously against one another.
In that first "joyous and gentle passage =
of
arms," wherein the weapons were those "of courtesy," their
points covered with small disks, several knights broke their lances fairly,=
two
horsemen of the side wearing red plumes became unseated, and their opponent=
s,
designated as the "white plumes," swept on intact.
"Well done!" commented the king from=
his
high tribunal, as the squires and attendants began to clear the lists,
assisting the fallen belligerents to their tents. "We shall have another such
memorable field as that of Ashby-de-la-Zouch!"
The following just, reduced to six combatants,
three of the red plumes and three of the white, was even yet more spirited =
than
the first tilt, for the former trio couched their lances with the determina=
tion
to retrieve the day for their party.
In this encounter two of the whites were unhorsed, thus placing the
contention once more on an equal basis, while in the third conflict the whi=
tes
again suffered similar disaster, and but one remained to redeem his party's
lapse from an advantage gained in the opening combat.
All eyes were now fastened upon this single
remnant of the white fellowship in arms, who, to wrest victory from defeat,
became obliged to overcome each in turn of the trio of reds, a formidable t=
ask
for one who had already been successful in three stubborn matches. It was a hero-making opportunity, =
but,
alas! for the last of the little white company. Like many another, he made a brave=
dash
for honor and the "bubble reputation"; the former slipped
tantalizingly from his grasp, and the latter burst and all its pretty colors
dissolved in thin air. Now he lay still on the sands and the king only
remarked:
"Certes, he possessed courage."
And the words sounded like an epitaph, a not
inglorious one, although the hand that gripped the lance had failed. The defeated champion was removed;=
the
opportunity had passed; the multitude stoically accepted the lame and impot=
ent
conclusion, and the tournament proceeded.
Event followed event, and those court ladies w=
ho
at first had professed their nerves were weaker than their foremothers' now
watched the arena with sparkling eyes, no longer turning away at the thrill=
ing
moment of contact. Taking the=
ir cue
from the king, they were lavish in praise and generous in approval, and at =
an
unusual exhibition of skill the stand grew bright with waving scarfs and
handkerchiefs. Simultaneous w=
ith
such an animated demonstration from the galleries would come a roar of appr=
oval
from the peasantry below, crowded where best they could find places, bespea=
king
for their part, likewise, an increasing lust for the stirring pastime.
In truth, the only dissatisfied onlookers were=
the
quick-fingered spoilers and rovers who, packed as close as dried dates in a
basket by the irresistible forward press of the people, found themselves
suddenly occupationless, without power to move their arms, or ply their han=
ds. Thus
held in a mighty compress, temporary prisoners with their spoils in their
pockets, and cheap jewelry shining enticingly all about them, they were obl=
iged
for the time to comport themselves like honest citizens. But, although their bodies were in
durance vile, their eyes could roam covetously to a showy trinket on the br=
oad
bosom of some buxom good-wife, or a gewgaw that hung from the neck of a
red-cheeked lass.
"Ha!" muttered the scamp-student to =
his
good spouse, "here are all the jolly boys immersed to their necks, like
prisoners buried in the sand by the Arabs."
"Hush!" she whispered, warningly.
"And there's the Duke of Friedwald
himself," answered the ragged scholar. "Look! the jesters are going =
to
fight. They have arranged the=
m in
two parties. Half of them go =
with
the duke and his knights; the other half with his Lordship's opponents.&quo=
t;
"But the duke's fool, by chance, is set
against his master," she mumbled, significantly.
"Call you it chance?" he said in a l=
ow
voice, and Nanette nudged him angrily in the side with her elbow, so that he
cried out, and attention would have been called to them but for a ripple of
laughter which started on the edge of the crowd and was taken up by the ser=
ried
ranks.
"Ho! ho!= Look at Triboulet!" shouted the delighted populace. "Ah, the droll fellow!"<= o:p>
All eyes were now bent to the arena, where, on=
a
powerful nag, sat perched the misshapen jester. With whip and spur he was vehement=
ly plying
a horse that stubbornly stood as motionless as carven stone. Thinking at the
last moment of a plan for escape from the dangerous features of the tourney,
the hunchback had bribed one of the attendants to fetch him a steed which f=
or
sullen obduracy surpassed any charger in the king's stables. Fate, he was called, because nothi=
ng
could move or change him, and now, with head pushed forward and ears thrust
back, he proved himself beneath the blows and spurring of the seemingly exc=
ited
rider, worthy of this appellation.
"Go on, Fate; go on!" exclaimed the
apparently angry dwarf. "=
;Will
you be balky now, when Triboulet has glory within his grasp? Miserable beast! unhappy fate! When bright eyes are watching the =
great Triboulet!"
If not destined to score success with his lanc=
e,
the dwarf at least had won a victory through his comical situation and ready
wit. Fair ladies forgot his
ugliness; the pages his ill-humor; the courtiers his vindictive slyness; the
monarch the disappointment of his failure to worst the duke's fool, and all
applauded the ludicrous figure, shouting, waving his arms, struggling with
inexorable destiny. Finally, in despair, his hands fell to his side.
"Oh, resistless necessity!" he
cried. But in his heart he sa=
id:
"It is well. I am as saf=
e as
on a wooden horse. Here I
stand. Let others have their =
heads
split or their bodies broken.
Triboulet, like the gods, views the carnage from afar."
While this bit of unexpected comedy riveted the
attention of the spectators the duke and his followers had slowly ridden to
their side of the inclosure. =
Here
hovered the squires, adjusting a stirrup, giving a last turn to a strap, or
testing a bridle or girth. Be=
hind stood
the heralds, trumpeters and pursuivants in their bright garb of office. At his own solicitation had the du=
ke
been assigned an active part in the day's entertainment. The king, fearing for the safety o=
f his
guest and the possible postponement of the marriage should any injury befall
him, had sought to dissuade him from his purpose, but the other had laughed
boisterously at the monarch's fears and sworn he would break a lance for his
lady love that day. Francis, =
too
gallant a knight himself to interpose further objection to an announcement =
so
in keeping with the traditions of the lists, thereupon had ordered the best
charger in his stables to be placed at the disposal of the princess' betrot=
hed,
and again nodded his approbation upon the appearance of the duke in the
ring. But at least one person=
in
that vast assemblage was far from sharing the monarch's complaisant mood.
If the mind of the duke's fool had heretofore =
been
filled with bitterness upon witnessing festal honors to a mere presumptuous
free baron, what now were his emotions at the reception accorded him? From king to churl was he a gallant
noble; he, a swaggerer, ill-born, a terrorist of mountain passes. Even as the irony of the demonstra=
tion swept
over the jester, from above fell a flower, white as the box from whence it =
was
wafted. Downward it fluttered=
, a messenger
of amity, like a dove to his gauntlet.&nbs=
p;
And with the favor went a smile from the Lady of the Lists. But while Bon Vouloir stood there,=
the
symbol in his hand and the applause ringing in his ears, into the tenor of =
his thoughts,
the consciousness of partly gratified ambition, there crept an insinuating
warning of danger.
"My Lord," said the trooper with the=
red
mustache, riding by the side of his master, "the fool is plotting furt=
her
mischief."
"What mean you?" asked the free baro=
n,
frowning, as he turned toward his side of the field.
"Go slowly, my Lord, and I will tell
you. I saw the fool and anoth=
er jester
with their heads together," continued the trooper in a low tone. "=
;They
were standing in front of the jesters' tent. You bade me watch him. So I entered their pavilion at the
back. Making pretext to be lo=
oking
for a gusset for an armor joint, I made my way near the entrance. There, bending over barbet pieces,=
I
overheard fragments of their conversation.=
It even bore on your designs."
"A conversation on my designs! He has then dared--"
"All, my Lord. A scheming knave! After I had heard enough, I gather=
ed up
a skirt of tassets--"
"What did you hear?" said the other,
impatiently.
"A plan by which he hoped to let the empe=
ror
know--"
A loud flourish of trumpets near them interrup=
ted
the free baron's informer, and when the clarion tones had ceased it was the
master who spoke. "There=
's
time but for a word now. Come=
to my
tent afterward. Meanwhile," he went on, hurriedly, "direct a lanc=
e at
the fool--"
"But, my Lord," expostulated the man,
quickly, "the jesters only are to oppose one another."
"It will pass for an accident. Francis likes him not, and will cl=
ear you
of unknightly conduct, if--"
He finished with a boldly significant look, which was not lost upon =
his
man.
"Even if the leaden disk should fall from=
my
lance and leave the point bare?" said the trooper, hoarsely.
"Even that!" responded the free baro=
n,
hastily.
"Laissez-aller!" cried the marshals,
giving the signal to begin.
Above, in her white box, the princess turned
pale. With bated breath and p=
arted
lips, she watched the lines sweep forward, and, like two great waves meetin=
g,
collide with a crash. The dus=
t that
arose seemed an all-enshrouding mist.
Beneath it the figures appeared, vague, undefined, in a maze of
uncertainty.
"Oh!" exclaimed Louise, striving to
penetrate the cloud; "he is victorious!"
"They have killed him!" said Jacquel=
ine,
at the same time staring toward another part of the field.
"Killed him!--what--" began the
princess, now rosy with excitement.
"No; he has won," added the maid, in=
the
next breath, as a portion of the obscuring mantle was swept aside.
"Of course! Where are your eyes?" rejoine=
d her
mistress triumphantly. "The duke, is one of the emperor's greatest
knights."
"In this case, Madam, it is but natural y=
our
sight should be better than my own," half-mockingly returned the maid.=
And, in truth, the princess was right, for the
king's guest, through overwhelming strength and greater momentum, had light=
ly
plucked from his seat a stalwart adversary. Others of his following failed not=
in the
"attaint," and horses and troopers floundered in the sand. Apart from the duke's victory, two
especial incidents, one comic, stood out in the confused picture.
That which partook of the humorous aspect, and=
was
seen and appreciated by all, had for its central figure an unwilling actor,=
the
king's hunchback. Like the fa=
mous
steed builded by the Greeks, Triboulet's "wooden horse" contained
unknown elements of danger, and even while the jester was congratulating
himself upon absolute immunity from peril the nag started and quivered. At the flourish of the brass instr=
uments
his ears, that had lain back, were now pricked forward; he had once, in his=
palmy,
coltish time, been a battle charger, and, perhaps, some memory of those mar=
tial
days, the waving of plumes and the clashing of arms, reawoke his combative
spirit of old. Or, possibly h=
is
brute intelligence penetrated the dwarf's knavish pusillanimity, and, chang=
ing
his tactics that he might still range on the side of perversity, resolved
himself from immobility into a rampant agency of motion. Furiously he dashed into the thick=
of
the conflict, and Triboulet, paralyzed with fear and dropping his lance, was
borne helplessly onward, execrating the nag and his capricious humor.
Opposed to the hunchback rode Villot, who, upon
reaching the dwarf and observing his predicament, good-naturedly turned asi=
de
his point, but was unable to avoid striking him with the handle as he rode
by. To Triboulet that blow,
reëchoing in the hollow depths of his steel shell, sounded like the
dissolution of the universe, and, not doubting his last moment had come,
mechanically he fell to earth, abandoning to its own resources the equine F=
ate
that had served him so ill.
Striking the ground, and, still finding consciousness had not desert=
ed
him, instinct prompted him to demonstrate that if his armor was too heavy f=
or
him to run away in, as the smithy-valet de chambre had significantly affirm=
ed,
yet he possessed the undoubted strength and ability to crawl. Thus, amid the
guffaws of the peasantry and the smiles of the nobles, he swiftly scampered
from beneath the horses' feet, hurriedly left the scene of strife, and fina=
lly
reached triumphantly the haven of his tent.
The other incident, witnessed by Jacqueline, w=
as
of a more serious nature. As =
the
lines swept together, with the dust rising before, she perceived that the
duke's trooper had swerved from his course and was bearing down upon the du=
ke's
fool.
"Oh," she whispered to herself,
"the master now retaliates on the jester." And held her breath.
Had he, too, observed these sudden perfidious
tactics? Apparently. Yet he s=
eemed
not to shun the issue.
"Why does he not turn aside?" thought
the maid. "He might yet =
do it.
A fool and a knight, forsooth!"
But the fool pricked his horse deeply; it spra=
ng
to the struggle madly; crash! like a thunderbolt, steed and rider leaped up=
on
the trooper. Then it was Jacqueline had murmured: "They have killed
him!" not doubting for a moment but that he had sped to destruction.
A second swift glance, and through the veil, l= ess obscure, she saw the jester riding, unharmed, his lance unbroken. Had he escaped, after all? And the trooper? He lay among the trampling horses' feet. She saw him now. How had it all come about? Her mind was bewildered, but in sp= ite of the princess' assertion to the contrary, her sight seemed unusually clear.<= o:p>
"Good lance, fool!" cried a voice fr=
om
the king's box.
"The jester rides well," said
another. "The knight's l=
ance
even passed over his head, while the fool's struck fairly with terrific
force."
"But why did he select the jester as an
adversary?" continued the first speaker.
"Mistakes will happen in the confusion of=
a
mêlée--and he has paid for his error," was the answer.
Now the fool had dismounted and she observed t=
hat
he was bending over another jester who had been unhorsed. "Why," she murmured to h=
erself
in surprise, "Caillette! As
good a soldier as a fool. Who=
among
the jesters could have unseated him?"
But her wonderment would have increased, could=
she
have overheard the conversation between the duke's fool and Caillette, as t=
he
former lifted the other from the sands and assisted him to walk, or rather =
limp,
to the jesters' pavilion.
"Did I not tell you to beware of the false
duke?" muttered Caillette, not omitting a parenthesis of deceptive gro=
ans.
"Ah, if it had only been he, instead,&quo=
t;
began the fool.
"Why," interrupted the seemingly inj=
ured
man, "think you to stand up against the boar of Hochfels?"
"I would I might try!" said the other
quickly.
"Your success with the trooper has turned
your head," laughed Caillette, softly. "One last word. Look to yourself and fear not for =
me. Mine injuries--which I surmise are
internal as they are not visible--will excuse me for the day. Nor shall I tarry at the palace fo=
r the
physician, but go straight on without bolus, simples or pills, a very Mercu=
ry
for speed. Danger will I esch=
ew and
a pretty maid shall hold me no longer than it takes to give her a kiss in
passing. Here leave me at the
tent. Turn back to the field,=
or
they will suspect. Trust no one, and--you'll mind it not in a friend, one w=
ho
would serve you to the end?--forget the princess! Serve her, save her, as you will, =
but,
remember, women are but creatures of the moment. Adieu, mon ami!"
And Caillette turned as one in grievous physic= al pain to an attendant, bidding him speedily remove the armor, while the duke= 's fool, more deeply stirred than he cared to show, moved again to the lists.<= o:p>
Loud rang encomium and blessing on the king, as
the people that night crowded in the rear courtyard around the great tables=
set
in the open air, and groaning beneath viands, nutritious and succulent. What swain or yokel had not a meed=
of
praise for the monarch when he beheld this burden of good cheer, and, at the
end of each board, elevated a little and garlanded with roses, a rotund and
portly cask of wine, with a spigot projecting hospitably tablewards?
Forgotten were the tax-lists under which the
commonalty labored; it was "Hosanna" for Francis, and not a plowm=
an
nor tiller of the soil bethought himself that he had fully paid for the sna=
ck
and sup that night. How could=
he,
having had no one to think for him; for then Rousseau had not lived, Voltai=
re
was unborn, and the most daring approach to lese-majesty had been Rabelais'
jocose: "The wearers of the crown and scepter are born under the same
constellation as those of cap and bells."
Upon the green, smoking torches illumined the
people and the surroundings; beneath a great oven, the bright coals cast a
vivid glow far and near. Clos=
e to the
broad face of a cask--round and large like that of a full-fed host presidin=
g at
the head of the board--sat the Franciscan monk, whose gluttonous eye wander=
ed
from quail to partridge, thence onward to pastry or pie, with the spigot at=
the
end of the orbit of observation.
Nor as it made this comprehensive survey did his glance omit a casual
inventory of the robust charms of a bouncing maid on the opposite side of t=
he
table. Scattered amid the hon=
est, good-natured
visages of the trusting peasants were the pinched adventurers from Paris, t=
he
dwellers of that quarter sacred to themselves. Yonder plump, frisky dame seemed l=
ike
the lamb; the gaunt knave by her side, the wolf.
At length the company could eat no more, altho=
ugh
there yet remained a void for drinking, and as the cups went circling and
circling, their laughter mingled with the distant strains of music from the
great, gorgeously lighted pavilion, where the king and his guests were asse=
mbled
to close the tourney fittingly with the celebration of the final event--the
awarding of the prize for the day.
"Can you tell me, good sir, to whom the
umpires of the field have given their judgment?" said a townsman to his
country neighbor.
"Did you not hear the king of arms decide=
the
Duke of Friedwald was the victor?" answered the other.
"A decision of courtesy, perhaps?"
insinuated the Parisian.
"Nay; two spears he broke, and overcame t=
hree
adversaries during the day. F=
airly
he won the award."
"I wish we might see the presentation,&qu=
ot;
interrupted a maid, pertly, her longing eyes straying to the bright lights
afar.
"Presentation!" repeated the
countryman. "Did we not
witness the sport? A fig for =
the
presentation! Give me the cas=
k and
a juicy haunch, with a lass like yourself to dance with after, and the nobl=
es are
welcome to the sight of the prize and all the ceremony that goes with it.&q=
uot;
Within the king's pavilion, the spectacle allu=
ded
to, regretfully by the girl and indifferently by the man, was at that moment
being enacted. Upon a throne =
of
honor, the lady of the tournament, attended by two maids, looked down on a
brilliant assemblage, through which now approached the king and the princes=
s'
betrothed. The latter seemed =
somewhat
thoughtful; his eye had but encountered that of the duke's fool, whose gaze
expressed a disdainful confidence the other fain would have fathomed. But for that unfortunate meeting i=
n the
lists which had sealed the lips of the only person who had divined the hidd=
en
danger, the free baron would now have been master of the plaisant's designs=
. Above,
in the palace, the trooper with the red mustaches lay on his couch unconsci=
ous.
For how long?=
The court physician could not say.&=
nbsp;
The soldier might remain insensible for hours. Thus had the jester served himself=
with that
stroke better than he knew, and he of Hochfels bit his lip and fumed inward=
ly,
but to no purpose. Not that he
believed the peril to be great, but the fact he could not grasp it goaded h=
im,
and he cursed the trooper for a dolt and a poltroon that a mere fool should=
have
vanquished him. And so he had=
left
him, with a last look of disgust at the silent lips that could not do his
bidding, and had proceeded to the royal pavilion, where the final act of the
day's drama--more momentous than the king or other spectators realized--was=
to
be performed; an act in which he would have appeared with much complacency,=
but
that his chagrin preyed somewhat on his vanity.
But his splendid self-control and audacity
revealed to the courtly assemblage no trace of what was passing in his
mind. He walked by the king's=
side
as one not unaccustomed to such exalted company, nor overwhelmed by sudden
honors. His courage was super=
b; his
demeanor that of one born to command; in him seemed exemplified a type of b=
rute
strength and force denoting a leader--whether of an army or a band of swash=
bucklers. As the monarch and the free baron =
drew
near, the princess slowly, gracefully arose, while now grouped around the
throne stood the heralds and pursuivants of the lists. In her hand Louise held the gift,
covered with a silver veil, an end of which was carried by each of the maid=
s.
"Fair Lady of the Tournament," said =
the
king, "this gallant knight is Bon Vouloir, whom you have even heard
proclaimed the victor of the day."
"Approach, Bon Vouloir!" commanded t=
he
Queen of Love.
The maids uncovered the gift, the customary
chaplet of beaten gold, and, as the free baron bowed his head, the princess
with a firm hand fulfilled the functions of her office. Rising, Bon Vouloir, amid the excl=
amations
of the court, claimed the privilege that went with the bauble. A moment he looked at the princess=
; she
seemed to bend beneath his regard; then leaning forward, deliberately rather
than ardently, he touched her cheek with his lips. Those who watched the Queen of Lov=
e closely
observed her face become paler and her form tremble; but in a moment she was
again mistress of herself, her features prouder and colder than before.
"Did you notice how he melted the ice of =
her
nature?" whispered Diane, with a malicious little laugh, to the counte=
ss.
"And yet 'twas not his--warmth that did
it," wisely answered the favorite of the king.
"His coldness, then," laughed the ot= her, as the musicians began to play, and the winner of the chaplet led the princ= ess to the dance. "Is it not= so, Sire?" she added, turning to the king, who at that moment approached.<= o:p>
"He, indeed, forgot a part of the
ceremony," graciously assented Francis.
"A part of the ceremony, your Majesty?&qu=
ot;
questioned Diane.
"To kiss the two damsels of the princess;=
and
one of them was worthy of casual courtesy," he added, musingly.
"Which, Sire?" asked the countess,
quickly.
"The dark-browed maid," returned the
monarch, thoughtfully. "=
Where
did I notice her last?"
And then he remembered. It was she who, he suspected, had
laughed that night in Fools' hall.
Recalling the circumstance, the king looked around for her, but she =
had
drawn back.
"Is it your pleasure to open the festivit=
ies,
Sire?" murmured the favorite, and, without further words, Francis
acquiesced, proffering his arm to his companion.
Masque, costume ball, ballet, it was all one to
the king and the court, who never wearied of the diverting vagaries of the
dance. Now studying that pant=
omimic
group of merrymakers, in the rhythmical expression of action and movement c=
ould
almost be read the influence and relative positions of the fair revelers. The countess, airy and vivacious, =
perched,
as it were, lightly yet securely on the arm of the throne; Diane, fearless,
confident of the future through the dauphin; Catharine, proud of her rank,
undisturbed in her own exalted place as wife of the dauphin; Marguerite,
mixture of saint and sinner, a soft heart that would oft-times turn the king
from a hard purpose.
"There!&=
nbsp;
I've danced enough," said a panting voice, and Jacqueline, brea=
thless,
paused before the duke's fool, who stood a motionless spectator of the
revelry. In his rich costume =
of
blue and white, the figure of the foreign jester presented a fair and strik=
ing
appearance, but his face, proud and composed, was wanting in that spirit wh=
ich animated
the features of his fellows in motley.
"One more turn, fair Jacqueline?"
suggested Marot, her partner in the dance.
"Not one!" she answered.
"Is that a dismissal?" he asked,
lightly.
"'Tis for you to determine," retorted
the maid.
"Modesty forbids I should interpret it to=
my
desires," he returned, laughing, as he disappeared.
Tall, seeming straighter than usual, upon each
cheek a festal rose, she stood before the duke's plaisant, inscrutable, as =
was
her fashion, the scarf about her shoulders just stirring from the effects of
the dance, and her lips parted to her hurried breathing.
"How did you like the ceremony?" she
asked, quietly. "And did=
you know,"
she went on, without noticing the dark look in his eyes or awaiting his
response, "the lance turned upon you to-day was not a 'weapon of
courtesy'?"
"You mean it was directed by intention?&q=
uot;
he asked indifferently.
"Not only that," she answered. "I mean that the disk had been
removed and the point left bare."
"A mistake, of course," he said, wit=
h a
peculiar smile.
A look of impatience crossed her face, but she
gazed at him intently and her eyes held his from the floor where they would
have strayed.
"Are you stupid, or do you but profess to
be?" she demanded.
"Before the tilt I noticed the duke and his trooper talking
together. When they separated=
the
latter, unobserved as he thought, struck the point of his weapon against his
stirrup. The disk fell to the
ground."
"Your glance is sharp, Jacqueline," =
he
retorted, slowly. "Thank=
you for
the information."
Her eyes kindled; an angry retort seemed about=
to
spring from her lips. It was with difficulty she controlled herself to answ=
er
calmly a moment later.
"You mean it can serve you nothing? Perhaps you are right. To-day you were lucky. To-morrow you may be--what? To-day you defended yourself well =
and it
was a good lance you bore. Ha=
d it
been any other jester, the king would have praised him. Because it was you, no word has be=
en spoken. If anything, your success has anno=
yed
him. Several of the court spo=
ke of
it; he answered not; 'tis the signal to ignore it, and--you!"
"Then are you courageous to brave public
opinion and hold converse with me," he replied, with a smile.
"Public opinion!" she exclaimed with
flashing eyes. "What wou=
ld
they say of a jestress? Who is
she? What is she?"
She ended abruptly; bit her lips, showing her
gleaming white teeth. Then some emotion, more profound, swept over her
expressive face; she looked at him silently, and when she spoke her voice w=
as
more gentle.
"I can not believe," she continued
thoughtfully, "that the duke told his trooper to do that. 'Tis too infamous. The man must have acted on his own
responsibility. The duke coul=
d not,
would not, countenance such baseness."
"You have a good opinion of him, gentle
mistress," he said in a tone that exasperated her.
"Who has not?" she retorted,
sharply. "He is as brave=
as he
is distinguished. Farewell. If you served him better, and your=
self
less, you--"
"Would serve myself better in the end?&qu=
ot;
he interrupted, satirically. "Thanks, good Jacqueline. A woman makes an excellent
counselor."
Disdainfully she smiled; her face grew cold; h=
er
figure looked never more erect and inflexible.
"Why," she remarked, "here am I
wasting time talking when the music is playing and every one is dancing.
Thoughtfully the duke's fool looked, not after
her, but toward a far end of the pavilion, where he last had seen the princ=
ess
and her betrothed.
"Caillette should now be well on his
way," he told himself.
"No one has yet missed him, or if they do notice his absence th=
ey
will attribute it to his injuries."
This thought lent him confidence; the implied
warnings of the maid passed unheeded from his mind; indeed, he had scarcely
listened to them. Amid strong=
er
passions, he felt the excitement of the subtile game he and the free baron =
were
playing; the blind conviction of a gambler that he should yet win seized hi=
m,
dissipating in a measure more violent thoughts.
He began to calculate other means to make
assurance doubly sure; an intricate realm of speculation, considering the
safeguards the boar of Hochfels had placed about himself. To offset the triumphs of the king=
's
guest there occurred to the jester the comforting afterthought that the gre=
ater
the other's successes now the more ignominious would be his downfall. The free baron had not hesitated t=
o use
any means to obliterate his one foeman from the scene; and he repeated to
himself that he would meet force with cunning, and duplicity with stealth, =
spinning
such a web as lay within his own capacity and resources. But in estimating the moves before=
him,
perhaps in his new-found trust, he overlooked the strongest menace to his
success--a hazard couched within himself.
Outspreading from the pavilion's walls were fl=
oral
bowers with myriad lights that shone through the leaves and foliage, where =
tiny
fragrant fountains tinkled, or diminutive, fairy-like waterfalls fell amid =
sweet-smelling
plants. Green, purple, orange=
, red,
had been the colors chosen in these dainty retreats for such of the votarie=
s of
the Court of Love as should, from time to time, care to exchange the
merry-making within for the languorous rest without. It was yet too early, however, for=
the
sprightly devotees to abandon the lively pleasures of the dance, so that wh=
en
the duke's fool abstractedly entered the balmy, crimson nook, at first he
thought himself alone.
Around him, carmine, blood-warm flowers exhale=
d a
commingling redolence; near him a toy-like fountain whispered very softly a=
nd confidentially. Through the foliage the figures mo=
ved
and moved; on the air the music fell and rose, thin in orchestration, yet
brightly penetrating in sparkling detail.&=
nbsp;
Buoyant were the violins; sportive the flutes; all alive the gittern=
s;
blithesome the tripping arpeggios that crisply fell from the strings of the
joyous harps.
The rustling of a gown admonished him he was n=
ot
alone, and, looking around, amid the crimson flowers, to his startled gaze,
appeared the face of her of whom he was thinking; above the broad, white br=
ow
shone the radiance of hair, a gold that was almost bronze in that dim light=
; through
the green tangle of shrubbery, a silver slipper.
"Ah, it is you, fool?" she said
languidly. It may be, he cont=
rasted
the indifference of her tones now with the unconscious softness of her voice
when she had addressed him on another occasion--in another garden; for his =
face
flushed, and he would have turned abruptly, when--
"Oh, you may remain," she added,
carelessly. "The duke ha=
s but
left me. He received a messag=
e that
the man hurt in the lists was most anxious to see him."
Into the whirl of his reflections her words
insinuated themselves. Why ha=
d the
free baron gone to the trooper?
What made his presence so imperative at the bedside of the soldier t=
hat
he had abruptly abandoned the festivities?=
Surely, more than mere anxiety for the man's welfare. The jester loo=
ked
at the princess for the answer to these questions; but her face was cold,
smiling, unresponsive. In the=
basin
of the fountain tiny fish played and darted, and as his eyes turned from he=
r to
them they appeared as swift and illusive as his own surging fancies.
"The--duke, Madam, is most solicitous abo=
ut
his men," he said, in a voice which sounded strangely calm.
"A good leader has always in mind the wel=
fare
of his soldiers," she replied, briefly.
Her hand played among the blossoms. Over the flowers she looked at him=
. Her features and arms were of the
sculptured roundness of marble, but the reflection of the roses bathed her =
in
the warm hue of life. As he m=
et her
gaze the illumined pages of a book seemed turning before his eyes. Did she remember?
She could not but perceive his emotion; the
tribute of a glance beyond control, despite the proud immobility of his
features.
"Sit here, fool," she said, not
unkindly, "and you may tell me more about the duke. His exploits--of that battle when =
he
saved the life of the emperor."
The jester made no move to obey, but, looking
down, answered coldly: "The duke, Madam, likes not to have his poor de=
eds
exploited."
"Poor deeds!" she returned, and seem=
ed
about to reply more sharply when something in his face held her silent.
Leaning her head on her hand, she appeared to
forget his presence; motionless save for a foot that waved to and fro,
betraying her restless mood. =
The
sound of her dress, the swaying of the foot, held his attention. In that little bower the air was a=
lmost
stifling, laden with the perfume of many flowers. Even the song of the birds grew fa=
inter. Only the tiny fountain, more asser=
tive
than ever, became louder and louder.
The princess breathed deeply; half-arose; a vine caught in her hair;=
she
stooped to disentangle it; then held herself erect.
"How close it is in here!" she murmu=
red,
arranging the tress the plant had disturbed. "Go to the door, fool, and se=
e if
you can find your master."
Involuntarily he had stepped toward her, as th=
ough
to assist her, but now stopped. His
face changed; he even laughed. That
last word, from her lips, seemed to break the spell of self-control that he=
ld
him.
"My master!" he said in a hard, scof=
fing
tone. "Whom mean you?
Her inertness vanished; the sudden anger and
wonderment in her eyes met the passion in his.
"How dare you--dare you--" she began=
.
"He is neither my master, nor the duke; b=
ut a
mere free-booter, a mountain terrorist!"
Pride and contempt replaced her surprise, but indignation still remained. H= is audacity in coming to her with this falsehood; his hardihood in maintaining= it, admitted of but one explanation. By her complaisance in the past she had fanned the embers of a passion which n= ow burst beyond control. She rea= lized how more than fair she looked that evening--had she not heard it from many?--had not the eyes of the king's guest told her?--and she believed that this lie must have sprung to the jester's lips while he was regarding her.<= o:p>
As the solution crossed her mind, revealing the
plaisant, a desperate and despicable, as well as lowly wooer, her face
relaxed. In the desire to tes=
t her
conclusion, she laughed quietly, musically. Cruelly kind, smiled the princess.=
"You are mad," she breathed softly.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> "You are mad--because--becaus=
e you--"
He started, studying her eagerly. He fancied he read relenting softn=
ess in
her gaze; a flash of memory into a past, where glamour and romance, and the
heart-history of the rose made up life's desideratum. Wherein existence was=
but
an allegory of love's quest, and the goal, its consummation. Had she not bent sedulously over t=
he
rose of the poet? Had not her
breath come quickly, eagerly? Could
he not feel it yet, sweet and warm on his cheek? Into the past, having gone so far,=
he
stepped now boldly, as though to grasp again those illusive colors and seize
anew the intangible substance. He
was but young, when shadows seem solid, when dreams are corporeal stuff, and
fantasies, rock-like strata of reality.
So he knelt before her. "Yes," he said, "I =
love
you!"
And thus remained, pale, motionless, all
resentment or jealousy succeeded by a stronger emotion, a feeling chivalric
that bent itself to a glad thraldom, the desire but to serve her--to save
her. His heart beat faster; he
raised his head proudly.
"Listen, Princess," he began. "Though I meant it not, I fea=
r I
have greatly wronged you. I h=
ave
much to ask your pardon for; much to tell you. It is I--I--"
The words died on his lips. From the princess' face all softne=
ss had
suddenly vanished. Her gaze p=
assed
him, cold, haughty. Across th=
e illusory
positiveness of his world--immaterial, psychological, ghostly--an intermedi=
ate
orb--a tangible shadow was thrown.
Behind him stood the free baron and the king. Quickly the fool sprang to his fee=
t.
"Princess!" exclaimed the hoarse voi=
ce
of the master of Hochfels.
"My Lord?"
For a moment neither spoke, and then the clear,
cold voice of the princess broke the silence.
"Are all the fools in your country so
presumptuous, my Lord?" she said.
The king's countenance lightened; he turned his
accusing glance upon the fool. As
in a dream stood the latter; the words he would have uttered remained
unspoken. But briefly the mon=
arch
surveyed him, satirically, darkly; then turning, with a gesture, summoned a=
n attendant. Not until the hands of two soldier=
s fell
upon him did the fool betray any emotion.&=
nbsp;
Then his face changed, and the stunned look in his eyes gave way to =
an
expression of such unbridled feeling that involuntarily the king stepped ba=
ck
and the free baron drew his sword. But neither had the monarch need for
apprehension, nor the princess' betrothed use for his weapon. Some emotion, deeper than anger, r=
eplaced
the savage turmoil of the jester's thoughts, as with a last fixed look at t=
he
princess he mechanically suffered himself to be led away. Louise's gaze perforce followed hi=
m, and
when the canvas fell and he had disappeared she passed a hand across her br=
ow.
"Are you satisfied, my Lord?" said t=
he
king to the free baron.
"The knave has received his just deserts,
Sire," replied the other, and, stepping to the princess' side, raised =
her
hand to his lips.
"Mère de Dieu!" cried the
monarch, passing his arm in a friendly manner over the free baron's shoulder
and addressing Louise. "=
You
will find Robert of Friedwald worthy of your high trust, cousin."
Without, they were soon whispering it. The attendant, who was the Count of
Cross, breathed what he knew to the Duke of Montmorency, who told Du Bellay=
s,
who related the story to Diane de Poitiers, who embellished it for Villot, =
who
carried it to Jacqueline.
"Triboulet has his wish," said the
poet-fool, half-regretfully.
"There is one jester the less."
"Where have they taken him?" asked t=
he
girl, steadily.
"Where--but to the keep!"
"That dungeon of the old castle?"
"Well," he returned significantly, "a fool and his jests--alas!--are soon parted. Let us make merry, therefore, whil= e we may. For what would you? Come, mistress--the dance--"<= o:p>
"No! no! no!" she exclaimed, so
passionately he gazed at her in surprise.
=
In a mood of contending thought, the free baron
left his apartments the next morning and traversed the tapestry-hung corrid=
or
leading toward the servants' and soldiers' quarters. He congratulated himself that the
incident of the past night had precipitated a favorable climax in one sourc=
e of
possible instability, and that the fool who had opposed him had been summar=
ily
removed from the field of action.
Confined within the four walls of the castle dungeon, there was scant
likelihood he would cause further trouble and annoyance. Francis' strong prison house would=
effectively
curb any more interference with, or dabbling in, the affairs of the master =
of
the Vulture's Nest.
Following the exposure of the jester's weaknes=
s,
his passion for his mistress, Francis, as Villot told Jacqueline, had
immediately ordered the fool into strictest confinement, the donjon of the
ancient structure. In that da=
rkened
cell he had rested over night and there he would no doubt remain
indefinitely. The king's gues=
t had
not been greatly concerned with the jester's quixotic love for the princess=
, being
little disposed to jealousy. =
He was
no sighing solicitant for woman's favor; higher allurements than woman's ey=
es,
or admiration for his inamorata, moved him--that edge of appetite for power,
conquest hunger, an itching palm for a kingdom. His were the unscrupulous soldier's
rather than the eager true-love's dreams.
But to offset his satisfaction that the jester=
lay
under restraint he took in bad part the trooper's continued insensibility w=
hich
deprived him of the much-desired information. When he had repaired to the bedsid=
e of
the soldier the night before he had only his trip for his pains, as the man=
had
again sunk into unconsciousness shortly before his coming. Thus the free baron was still in
ignorance of the person to whom the fool had betrayed him. The fact that there still roamed a=
n unfettered
some one who possessed the knowledge of his identity caused him to knit his
brows and look glum.
These jesters were daring fellows; several of =
them
had borne arms, as, for example, Clement Marot, who had been taken prisoner
with Francis at the battle of Pavia.
Brusquet had been a hanger-on of the camp at Avignon; Villot, a Paris
student; Caillette had received the spirited education of a soldier in the
household of his benefactor, Diane's father. And as for the others--how varied h=
ad
been their careers!--lives of hazard and vicissitude; scapegraces and adven=
turers--existing
literally by their wits.
To what careless or wanton head had his secret
been confined? What use would=
the
rashling make of it? Daringly
attempt to approach the throne with this startling budget of information;
impulsively seek the princess; or whisper it over his cups among the femmes=
de
chambre, laundresses or scullery maids?
"If the soldier should never speak?"
thought the free baron out of humor, as he drew near the trooper's door.
With a firm step the king's guest entered the
chamber of the injured soldier.
Upon a narrow bed lay the trooper, his mustachios appearing unusually
red and fierce against his now yellow, washed-out complexion. As the free b=
aron
drew near the couch a tall figure arose from the side of the bed.
"How is your patient, doctor?" said =
the
visitor, shortly.
"Low," returned the other,
laconically. This person wore=
a
black gown; a pair of huge, broad-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of a
thin, long nose, and in his claw-like fingers he held a vial, the contents =
of which
he stirred slowly. His aspect=
was
that of living sorrow and melancholy.
"Has he been conscious again?" asked=
the
caller.
"He has e'en lain as you see him,"
replied the wearer of the black robe.
"Humph!" commented the free baron,
attentively regarding the motionless and silent figure.
"I urged upon him the impropriety of send=
ing
for you at the festivities," resumed the man, sniffing at the vial,
"but he became excited, swore he would leave the bed and brain me with
mine own pestle if I ventured to hinder him. So I consented to convey his
request."
"And when I arrived he was still as a
log," supplemented the visitor, gloomily.
"Alas, yes; although I tried to keep him =
up,
giving him specifics and carminatives and bleeding him once."
"Bleeding him!" cried the false duke,
angrily, glowering upon the impassive and woebegone countenance of the medi=
cal
attendant. "As if he had=
not
bled enough from his hurts! Q=
uack
of an imposter! You have kill=
ed
him!"
"As for that," retorted the man in a
sing-song voice, "no one can tell whether a medicine be antidote or
poison, unless as leechcraft and chirurgery point out--"
"His days are numbered," quoth the f=
ree
baron to himself, staring downward.
But as he spoke he imagined he saw the red mustachios move, while one
eye certainly glared with intelligent hatred upon the doctor and turned with
anxious solicitude upon his master.
The latter immediately knelt by the bedside and laid his hand upon t=
he
already cold one of the soldier.
"Speak!" he said.
It was the command of an officer to a trooper,=
an
authoritative bidding, and seemed to summon a last rallying energy from the
failing heart. The man's gaze
showed that he understood. Fr=
om the
free baron's eye flashed a glance of savage power and force.
"Speak!" he repeated, cruelly,
imperatively.
The mustachios quivered; the leader bent his h=
ead
low, so low his face almost touched the soldier's. A voice--was it a voice, so faint =
it sounded?--breathed
a few words:
"The emperor--Spain--Caillette gone!"=
;
Quickly the free baron sprang to his feet. The soldier seemed to fall asleep;=
his
face calm and tranquil as a campaigner's before the bivouac fire at the hou=
r of
rest; the ugliness of his features glossed by a new-found dignity; only his
mustachios strangely fierce, vivid, formidable, against the peace and pallo=
r of
his countenance. The leech lo=
oked
at him; stopped stirring the drug; leaned over him; straightened himself; t=
ook
the vial once more from the table and threw the medicine out of the
window. Then he methodically =
began
gathering up bottles and other receptacles, which he placed neatly in a
handbag. The free baron passed
through the door, leaving the cheerless practitioner still gravely engaged =
in
getting together his small belongings.
Soberly the king's guest walked down the echoi=
ng
stairway out into the open air of the court. The emperor in Spain? It seemed not unlikely. Charles sp=
ent
much of his time in that country, nor was it improbable he had gone there
quietly, without flourish of trumpet, for some purpose of his own. His ways were not always manifest;=
his
personality and mind-workings were characterized by concealment. If the emperor had gone to Spain, a
messenger, riding post-haste, could reach Charles in time to enable that
monarch to interpose in the nuptials and override the confidence the free b=
aron
had established for himself in the court of Francis. An impediment offered by Charles w=
ould
be equivalent to the abandonment of the entire marital enterprise.
Pausing before a massive arched doorway that l=
ed
into a wing of the castle where the free baron knew the jesters and certain=
of
the gentlemen of the chamber lodged, the master of Hochfels, in answer to h=
is
inquiries from a servant, learned that Caillette had not been in his apartm=
ents
since the day before; that he had ridden from the tournament, ostensibly to
return to his rooms, but nothing had been heard of him since. And the oddest part of it was, as =
the
old woman volubly explained when the free baron had pushed his way into the=
tastefully
furnished chambers of the absent fool, the jester had been desperately woun=
ded;
had groaned much when the duke's plaisant had assisted him from the field, =
and
had been barely able to mount his horse with the assistance of a squire.
Meditatively, while absorbing this prattle, the
visitor gazed about him. The =
bed
had been unslept in, and here and there were evidences of a hasty and
unpremeditated leave-taking. =
Upon
an open desk lay a half-finished poem, obviously intended for no eyes save =
the
writer's. Several dainty missives and a lace handkerchief, with a monogram,=
invited
the unscrupulous and prying glance of the inquisitive newsmonger.
But as these details offered nothing additiona=
l to
the one great germ of information embodied in the loquacity of the narrator,
the free baron turned silently away, breaking the thread of her volubility =
by unceremoniously
disappearing. No further doubt
remained in his mind that the duke's plaisant had sent a comrade in motley =
to
the emperor, and, as he would not have inspired a mere fool's errand, Charl=
es without
question was in Spain, several days nearer to the court of the French monar=
ch
than the princess' betrothed had presumed.=
Caillette had now been four-and-twenty hours on his journey; it woul=
d be
useless to attempt pursuit, as the jester was a gallant horseman, trained t=
o the
hunt. Such a man would be
indefatigable in the saddle, and the other realized that, strive as he migh=
t,
he could never overcome the handicap.
Then of what avail was one fool in the dungeon,
with a second--on the road? S=
hould
he abandon his quest, be driven from his purpose by a nest of motley
meddlers? The idea never seri=
ously
entered his mind; he would fight it out doggedly upon the field of
deception. But how? As surely as the sun rose and set,
before many days had come and gone the hand of Charles would be thrust betw=
een
him and his projects. Circumspect, suspicious, was the emperor; he would
investigate, and investigation meant the downfall of the structure of false=
hood
that had been erected with such skill and painstaking by the subtile archit=
ect.
The maker had pride in his work, and, to see it totter and tumble, was a
misfortune he would avert with his life--or fall with it.
As he had no intention, however, of being buri=
ed
beneath the wreckage of his endeavors, he sought to prop the weakening fabr=
ic
of invention and mendacity by new shuffling or pretense. Should a disgraced fool be his
undoing? From that living
entombment should his foeman in cap and bells yet indirectly summon the for=
ce
to bend him to the dust, or send him to the hangman's knot?
Step by step the king's guest had left the pal=
ace
behind him, until the surrounding shrubbery shut it from view, but the path,
sweeping onward with graceful curve, brought him suddenly to a beautiful
château. Lost in though=
t, he
gazed within the flowering ground, at the ornate architecture, the marble
statues and the little lake, in whose pellucid depths were mirrored a thous=
and
beauties of that chosen spot--an improved Eden of the landscape gardener
wherein resided the Countess d'Etampes.
"Why," thought the free baron,
brightening abruptly, "that chance which served me last night, which f=
orced
the trooper to speak to-day, now has led my stupid feet to the
soothsayer."
Within a much begilt and gorgeous bower, he so=
on
found himself awaiting patiently the coming of the favorite. Upon a tiny chair of gold, too fra=
gile
for his bulk, the caller meanwhile inspected the ceilings and walls of this
dainty domicile, mechanically striving to decipher a painted allegory of Ve=
nus
and Mars, or Helen and Paris, or the countess and Francis--he could not dec=
ide
precisely its purport--when she who had succeeded Châteaubriant float=
ed
into the room, dressed in some diaphanous stuff, a natural accompaniment to=
the
other decorations; her dishabille a positive note of modesty amid the vivid
colorings and graceful poses of those tributes to love with which Primaticc=
io
and other Italian artists had adorned this bower.
"How charming of you!" vaguely murmu=
red
the lady, sinking lightly upon a settee.&n=
bsp;
"What an early riser you must be, Duke."
Although it was then but two hours from noon, =
the
visitor confessed himself open to criticism in this regard. "And you, as well, Madam,&quo=
t; he
added, "must plead guilty of the same fault. One can easily see you have been o=
ut in
the garden, and," he blundered on, "stolen the tints from the
roses."
Sharply the countess looked at him, but read o=
nly
an honest attempt at a compliment.
"Why," she said, "you are becom=
ing
as great a flatterer as the rest of them.&=
nbsp;
But confess now, you did not call to tell me that?"
The free baron looked from her through the fol=
ding
doors into a retiring apartment, set with arabesque designs, and adorned wi=
th
inlaid tables bearing statues of alabaster and enamel. Purposely he waited before he repl=
ied,
and was gratified to see how curiously she regarded him when again his glan=
ce
returned to her.
"No, Madam," he answered, taking cre=
dit
to himself for his diplomacy, "it is not necessary that truth should be
premeditated. I had a serious
purpose in seeking you. Of al=
l the
court you alone can assist me; it is to you, only, I can look for aid. Knowing you generous, I have ventu=
red to
come."
"What a serious preamble," smiled the
lady. "How grave must be=
the matter
behind it!"
"The service I ask must be from the
king," he went on, with seeming embarrassment.
"Then why not go to his Majesty?" she
interrupted, with the suggestion of a frown.
"Because I should fail," he retorted,
frankly. "The case is on=
e wherein
a messenger--like yourself--a friend--may I so call you?--would win, while =
I, a
rough soldier, should but make myself ridiculous, the laughing stock of the
court."
"You interest me," she laughed. "It must be a pressing emerge=
ncy
when you honor me--so early in the day."
"It is, Madam," he replied. "Very pressing to me. I want the wedding day changed.&qu=
ot;
"Changed!" she exclaimed, staring at
him. "Deferred?"
"No; hastened, Madam. It is too long to wait. Go to the king; ask him to shorten=
the
interval; to set the day sooner. I
beg of you, Madam!"
His voice was hard and harsh. It seemed almost a demand he laid =
upon her. Had he been less blunt or coercive=
, had
he employed a more honeyed appeal, she would not have felt so moved in his
behalf. In the atmosphere of
adulation and blandishment to which she was accustomed, the free baron offe=
red
a marked contrast to the fine-spoken courtiers, and she leaned back and
surveyed him as though he were a type of the lords of creation she had not =
yet
investigated.
"Oh, this is delicious!" purred the
countess. "Samson in the
toils! His locks shorn by our fair Delilah!"
The thick-set soldier arose; muscular, well-kn=
it,
virile. "I fear I am det=
aining
you, Madam," he said, coldly.
"No; you're not," she answered,
merrily. "Won't you be
seated--please! I should have known," she could not resist adding,
"that love is as sensitive as impatient."
"I see, Madam, that you have your mind ma=
de
up to refuse me, and therefore--"
"Refuse," repeated the favorite,
surveying this unique petitioner with rising amusement. "How do you read my mind so
well?"
"Then you haven't determined to refuse
me?" And he stepped towa=
rd her
quickly.
"No, I haven't," she answered, throw=
ing
back her head, like a spoiled child.
"On the contrary, I will be your messenger, your advocate, and =
will
plead your cause, and will win your case, and the king shall say 'yes,' and=
you
shall have your princess whene'er you list. All this I promise faithfully to d=
o and
perform. And now, if you want=
to
leave me so sullenly, go!"
But the free baron dropped awkwardly to his kn=
ee,
took her little hand in his massive one and raised it to his lips. "Madam, you overwhelm me,&quo=
t; he
murmured.
"That is all very well," she comment=
ed,
reflectively, "but what about the princess? What will she say when--"
"It shall be my task to persuade her. I am sure she will consent," =
returned
the suitor.
"Oh, you're sure of that?" observed =
the
lady. "You have some fai=
th in your
own powers of persuasion--in certain quarters!"
"Not in my powers, Madam, but in the
princess' amiability."
"Perhaps you have spoken to her
already?" asked the countess.
"No, Madam; without your assistance, of w=
hat
use would be her willingness?"
"What a responsibility you place on my we=
ak
shoulders!" cried the other.
"However, I will not shift the burden. I will go to his Majesty at once.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> And do you"--gaily--"go =
to the
princess."
"At your command!" he replied, and t=
ook
his departure.
Without the inclosure of the château
gardens, the free baron began to review the events of the morning with
complacency and satisfaction, but, as he took up the threads of his case and
examined them more narrowly, his peace of mind was darkened with the shadow=
of
a new disquietude. What if Fr=
ancis,
less easily cozened than the countess, should find his suspicions aroused?<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> What if the princess, who had imme=
diately
dismissed the fool's denouncement of the free baron as an ebullition of bli=
nd
jealousy--after informing her betrothed of the mad accusation--should see in
his request equivocal circumstances?
Or, was the countess--like many of her sisters--given to second
thoughts, and would this after-reverie dampen the ardor of her impetuous
promise?
"But," thought the king's guest,
banishing these assailing doubts, "there never yet was victory assured
before the battle had been fought, and, with renewed precautions, defeat is
most unlikely."
By the time he had reached this conclusion he =
had
arrived at the princess' door.
The dim rays of a candle glimmered within a
cubical space, whereof the sides consisted of four stone walls, and a ceili=
ng
and floor of the same substantial material. For furnishings were provided a th=
ree-legged
stool, a bundle of straw and--the tallow dip. One of the walls was pierced by a
window, placed almost beyond the range of vision; the outlook limited by da=
y to
a bit of blue sky or a patch of verdant field, with the depressing suggesti=
on
of a barrier to this outer world, three feet in thickness, massively built =
of
stone and mortar, hardened through the centuries. At night these pictures faded and =
the
Egyptian darkness within became partly dispelled through the brave efforts =
of
the small wick; or when this half-light failed, a far star without, struggl=
ing
in the depths of the palpable obscure, appeared the sole relief.
But now the few inches of candle had only begu=
n to
eke out its brief period of transition and the solitary occupant of the cell
could for some time find such poor solace as lay in the companionship of the
tiny yellow flame. With his a=
rms
behind him, the duke's fool moved as best he might to and fro within the na=
rrow
confines of his jail; the events which had led to his incarceration were so
recent he had hardly yet brought himself to realize their full
significance. Neither Francis=
' anger
nor the free baron's covert satisfaction during the scene following their
abrupt appearance in the bower of roses had greatly weighed upon him; but n=
ot
so the attitude of the princess.
How vividly all the details stood out in his
brain! The sudden transitions=
of
her manner; her seeming interest in his passionate words; her eyes, friendl=
y,
tender, as he had once known them; then portentous silence, frozen
disdain. What latent energy i=
n the
free baron's look had invested her words with his spirit? Had the adduction of his mind comp=
elled
hers to his bidding, or had she but spoken from herself? Into the marble-like pallor of her=
face
a faint flush had seemed to insinuate itself, but the words had dropped eas=
ily
from her lips: "Are all the fools of your country so presumptuous, my
Lord?"
Above the other distinctive features of that
tragic night, to the plaisant this question had reiterated itself persisten=
tly
in the solitude of his cell. =
True,
he had forgotten he was only a jester; but had it not been the memory of her
soft glances that had hurried him on to the avowal? She had no fault to be condoned; t=
he
fool was the sole culprit. Fr=
om her
height, could she not have spared him the scorn and contempt of her
question? Over and over, thro=
ugh
the long hours he had asked himself that, and, as he brooded, the idealizat=
ion
with which he had adorned her fell like an enshrouding drapery to the dust;=
of
the vestment of fancy nothing but tatters remained.
A voice without, harsh, abrupt, broke in upon =
the
jester's thoughts. The prisoner started, listened intently, a gleam of fier=
ce
satisfaction momentarily creeping into his eyes. If love was dead, a less exalted f=
eeling
still remained.
"How does the fool take his
imprisonment?" asked the arrogant voice.
"Quietly, my Lord," was the jailer's
reply.
"He is inclined to talk over much?"<= o:p>
"Not at all," answered the man.
A brief command followed; a key was inserted in
the lock, and, with a creaking of bolts and groaning of hinges, the warder
swung back the iron barrier. =
Upon
the threshold stood the commanding figure of the free baron. A moment he remained thus, and the=
n,
with an authoritative gesture to the man, stepped inside. The turnkey withdrew to a discreet=
distance,
where he remained within call, yet beyond the range of ordinary
conversation. Immovably the k=
ing's
guest gazed upon the jester, who, unabashed, calmly endured the scrutiny.
"Well, fool," began the free baron,
bluntly, "how like you your quarters?=
You fought me well; in truth very well. But you labored under a disadvanta=
ge,
for one thing is certain: a jester in love is doubly--a fool."
"Is that what you have come to say?"
asked the plaisant, his bright glance fastened on the other's confident fac=
e.
"I came--to return the visit you once made
me," easily retorted the master of Hochfels. "By this time you have probab=
ly
learned I am an opponent to be feared."
"As one fears the assassin's knife, or a
treacherous onslaught," said the fool.
"Did I not say, when you left that night,=
the
truce was over?" returned the king's guest, frowning.
"True," was the ironical answer. "Forewarned; forearmed. And that sort of warfare was to be
expected from the bastard of Pfalz-Urfeld."
"Well," unreservedly replied the free
baron, who for reasons of his own chose not to challenge the affront, "=
;in
those two instances you were not worsted.&=
nbsp;
And as for the trooper who attacked you--I know not whether your lan=
ce
or the doctor's lancet is responsible for his taking off. But you met him with true attaint.=
You would have made a good soldier=
. It is to be regretted you did not =
place
your fortune with mine--but it is too late now."
"Yes," answered the plaisant, "=
it
is too late."
Louis of Hochfels gave him a sharp look. "You cling yet to some forlorn
hope?"
To the fool came the vision of a brother jester
speeding southward, ever southward.
The free baron smiled.
"Caillette, perhaps?" he suggested.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> For a moment he enjoyed his triump=
h,
watching the expression of the fool's countenance, whereon he fancied he re=
ad
dismay and astonishment.
"You know then?" said the plaisant
finally.
"That you sent him to the emperor? Yes."
In the fool's countenance, or his manner, the
king's guest sought confirmation of the dying trooper's words. Also, was he fencing for such addi=
tional
information as he might glean, and for this purpose had he come. Had the emperor really gone to
Spain? The soldier's assuranc=
e had
been so faint, sometimes the free baron wondered if he had heard aright, or=
if
he had correctly interpreted the meager message.
"And you--of course--detained
Caillette?" remarked the prisoner, with an effort at indifference, his
heart beating violently the while.
"No," slowly returned the other. "He got away."
Into his eyes the fool gazed closely, as if to
read and test this unexpected statement.
"Got away!" he repeated. "How, since you knew?"
"Because I learned too late," quietly
replied the free baron. "=
;He
was four-and-twenty hours gone when I found out. Too great a start to be overcome.&=
quot;
"Why should you tell me this--unless it i=
s a
lie?" coolly asked the jester.
"A lie!" exclaimed the visitor,
frowning.
"Yes, like your very presence in Francis'
court," added the fool, fearlessly.
In the silence ensuing the passion slowly faded
from the countenance of the king's guest.&=
nbsp;
He remembered he had not yet ascertained what he wished to know.
"Such recriminations from you remind me o=
f a
bird beating its wings against the bars of its cage," at length came t=
he
unruffled response. "Why should I lie? There is no need for it. You sent Caillette; he is on his w=
ay
now, for all of me.
For"--leading to the thread of what he sought--"why should=
I
have stopped him? He embarked=
on a
hopeless chase. How can he re=
ach
Austria and the emperor in time to prevent the marriage?"
The jester's swift questioning glance was not =
lost
upon the speaker, who, after a pause, continued. "Had I known, I am not sure I=
would
have prevented his departure. What
better way to dispose of him than to let him go on a mad-cap journey? Besides, you must have forgotten a=
bout
the passes. How could you exp=
ect
him to get by my sentinels? I=
t will
attract less attention to have him stopped there than here."
All this, spoken brusquely, was accompanied by
frank, insolent looks which beneath their seeming openness concealed an
intentness of purpose and a shrewd penetration. Only the first abrupt change in the
fool's look, a slight one though it was, betrayed the jester to his caller.=
In
that swiftly passing gleam, as the free baron spoke of Austria, and not of
Spain, the other read full confirmation of what he desired to know.
"He will do his best," commented the
jester, carelessly.
"And man can do no more," retorted t=
he
king's guest. "Many a ba=
ttle has
been thus bravely lost."
He had hoped to provoke from the plaisant some
further expression of self-content in his plans for the future, but the oth=
er
had become guarded.
What if he offered the fool clemency? asked the
princess' betrothed of himself. If
the jester had confidence in the future he would naturally rather remain in=
the
narrow confines of his dark chamber than consider proposals from one whom he
believed he would yet overcome. The
free baron began to enjoy this strategic duplicity of language; the environ=
ing
dangers lent zest to equivocation; the seduction of finding himself more po=
tent
than forces antagonistic became intoxicating to his egotism.
"Why," he said, patronizingly, surve=
ying
the slender figure of the fool, "a good man should die by the sword ra=
ther
than go to the scaffold. What=
if I
were to overlook Caillette and the rest?&n=
bsp;
He is harmless,"--more shrewdly; "let him go. As for the princess--well, you're =
young;
in the heyday for such nonsense. I
have never yet quarreled seriously with man for woman's sake. There are many graver causes for
contention--a purse, or a few acres of land; right royal warfare. If I get the king to forgive you, =
and the
princess to overlook your offense, will you well and truthfully serve me?&q=
uot;
"Never!" answered the fool, promptly=
.
"He is sure the message will reach Charle=
s in
Spain," mentally concluded the king's guest. "Yet," he continued alou=
d in a
tone of mockery, "you did not hesitate to betray your master
yourself. Why, then, will you=
not
betray him to me?"
"To him I will answer, not to you,"
returned the jester, calmly.
A contemptuous smile crossed the free baron's
face.
"And tell him how you dared look up to his
mistress? That you sought to =
save
her from another, while you yourself poured your own burning tale into her
ear? Two things I most admire=
in
nature," went on the free baron, with emphasis. "A dare-devil who stops not f=
or man
or Satan, and--an honest man. You
take but a compromising middle course; and will hang, a hybrid, from some
convenient limb."
"But not without first knowing that you, =
too,
in all likelihood, will adorn an equally suitable branch, my Lord of the
thieves' rookery," said the jester, smiling.
Louis of Hochfels responded with an ugly
look. His bloodshot eyes took=
fire
beneath the provocation.
"Fool, you expect your duke will
intervene!" he exclaimed.
"Not when he has been told all by the king, or the princess,&qu=
ot;
he sneered. "Do you thin=
k she
cares? You, a motley fool; a =
theme
for jest between us."
"But when she learns about you?"
retorted the plaisant, significantly.
"She will e'en be mistress of my
castle."
"Castle?" laughed the Jester. "A robber's aery! a footpad's=
retreat!
A rifler of the roads become a great lord?=
You of royal blood! Th=
en was
your father a king of thieves!"
The free baron's face worked fearfully; the ki=
ngly
part of him had been a matter of fanatical pride; through it did he believe=
he
was destined to power and honors.
But before the cutting irony of the plaisant, that which is
heaven-born--self-control--dropped from him; the mad, brutal rage of the
peasant surged in his veins.
Infuriate his hand sought his sword, but befor=
e he
could draw it the fool, anticipating his purpose, had rushed upon him with =
such
impetuosity and suddenness that the king's guest, in spite of his bulk and
strength, was thrust against the wall.&nbs=
p;
Like a grip of iron, the jester's fingers were buried in his opponen=
t's
throat. For one so youthful a=
nd
slender in build, his power was remarkable, and, strive as he might, the
princess' betrothed could not shake him off. Although his arms pressed with cru=
shing
force about the figure of the fool, the hand at his throat never relaxed. He endeavored to thrust the plaisa=
nt
from him, but, like a tiger, the jester clung; to and fro they swayed; to t=
he
free baron, suffocated by that gauntlet of steel, the room was already going
around; black spots danced before his eyes. He strove to reach for the dagg=
er
that hung from his girdle, but it was held between them. Perhaps the muscles of the king's =
guest
had been weakened by the excesses of Francis' court, yet was he still a mig=
hty tower
of strength, and, mad with rage, by a last supreme effort he finally manage=
d to
tear himself loose, hurling the fool violently from him into the arms of the
jailer, who, attracted by the sound of the struggle, at that moment rushed =
into
the cell. This keeper, himsel=
f a burly,
herculean soldier, promptly closed with the prisoner.
Breathless, exhausted, the free baron marked t=
he
conflict now transferred to the turnkey and the jester. The former held the fool at a deci=
ded
disadvantage, as he had sprung upon the back of the jester and was also
unweakened by previous efforts. But
still the fool contended fiercely, striving to turn so as to grapple with h=
is assailant,
and wonderingly the free baron for a moment watched that exhibition of viri=
lity
and endurance. During the wre=
stling
the jester's doublet had been torn open and suddenly the gaze of the king's=
guest
fell, as if fascinated, upon an object which hung from his neck.
Bending forward, he scrutinized more closely t=
hat
which had attracted his attention and then started back. Harshly he laughed, as though a new
train of thought had suddenly assailed him, and looked earnestly into the n=
ow
pale face of the nearly helpless fool.
"Why," he cried, "here's a
different complication!"
And stooping suddenly, he grasped the stool fr=
om
the floor and brought it down with crushing force upon the plaisant's
head. A cowardly, brutal blow=
; and
at once the prisoner's grasp relaxed, and he lay motionless in the arms of =
the
warder, who placed him on the straw.
"I think the knave's dead, my Lord,"
remarked the man, panting from his exertion.
"That makes the comedy only the
stronger," replied the free baron curtly, as he knelt by the side of t=
he
prostrate figure and thrust his hand under the torn doublet. Having procured possession of the =
object
which chance had revealed to him, he arose and, without further word, left =
the
cell.
=
When Brusquet, the jester, fled from the camp =
at
Avignon, where he had presumed to practise medicine, to the detriment of the
army, some one said: "Fools and cats have nine lives," and the
revised proverb had been accepted at court. It was this saying the turnkey mut=
tered
when he bent over the prostrate figure of the duke's plaisant after the free
baron had departed. Thus one =
of the
fabled sources of existence was left the fool, and again it seemed the prov=
erb
would be realized.
Day after day passed, and still the vital spark
burned; perhaps it wavered, but in this extremity the jester had not been
entirely neglected; but who had befriended him, assisting the spirit and th=
e flesh
to maintain their unification, he did not learn until some time later. Youth and a strong constitution we=
re
also a shield against the final change, and when he began to mend, and his
heart-beats grew stronger, even the jailer, his erstwhile assailant, the mo=
st
callous of his several keepers, exhibited a stony interest in this unusual =
convalescence.
The touch of a hand was the plaisant's first
impression of returning consciousness, and then into his throbbing brain cr=
ept
the outlines of the prison walls and the small window that grudgingly admit=
ted
the light. To his confused th=
oughts
these surroundings recalled the struggle with the free baron and the
jailer. As across a dark chas=
m, he
saw the face of the false duke, whereon wonder and conviction had given way=
to
brutal rage, and, with the memory of that treacherous blow, the fool
half-started from his couch.
A low voice carried him back from the past to a
vague cognizance of a woman's form, standing at the head of the bed, and two
grave, dark eyes looking down upon him which he strove in vain to interroga=
te
with his own. He would have s=
poken,
but the soothing pressure of the hand upon his forehead restrained him, and,
turning to the wall, sleep overcame him; a slumber long, sound and restorat=
ive. Motionless the figure remained,
listening for some time to his deep breathing and then stole away as silent=
ly
as she had come.
Amid a solitude like that of a catacomb the ho=
urs
ran their course; the day grew old, and eventide replaced the waning flush =
in
the west. The shadows deepene=
d into
night, and the first kisses of morn again merged into the brighter prime. Near the cell the only sound had b=
een
the footstep of the warder, or the scampering of a rat, but now from afar s=
eemed
to come a faint whispering, like the murmur of the ocean. It was the voice of awakened natur=
e; the
wind and the trees; the whir of birds' wings, or the sound of other living
creatures in the forest hard by. A
song of life and buoyancy, it breathed just audibly its cheering intonation
about the prison bars, when the captive once more stirred and gazed around
him. As he did so, the figure=
of
the woman, who had again noiselessly entered the cell, stepped forward and
stood near the couch.
"Are you better?" she asked.
He raised himself on his elbow, surprised at t=
he
unexpected appearance of his visitor.
"Jacqueline!" he said, wonderingly,
recognizing the features of the joculatrix. "I must have been unconscious=
all
night." And he stared fr=
om her
toward the window.
"Yes," she returned with a peculiar
smile; "all night." And
bending over him, she held a receptacle to his lips from which he mechanica=
lly drank
a broth, warm and refreshing, the while he endeavored to account for the
strangeness of her presence in the cell.&n=
bsp;
She placed the bowl on the floor and then, straightening her slim
figure, again regarded him.
"You are improving fast," she commen=
ted,
reflectively.
"Thanks to your sovereign mixture," =
he
answered, lifting a hand to his bandaged head, and striving to collect his
scattered ideas which already seemed to flow more consecutively. The pain which had racked his brow=
had
grown perceptibly less since his last deep slumber, and a grateful warmth
diffused itself in his veins with a growing assurance of physical relief. "But may I ask how you came
here?" he continued, perplexity mingling with the sense of temporary
languor that stole over him.
"I heard the duke tell the king you had attacked him and he had struck you down," she replied, after a pause.<= o:p>
His face darkened; his head throbbed once more;
with his fingers he idly picked at the straw.
"And the king, of course, believed,"=
he
said. "Oh, credulous
king!" he added scornfully.
"Was ever a monarch so easily befooled? A judge of men? No; a ruler who trusts rather to f=
ortune
and blind destiny. Unlike Charles, he looks not through men, but at them.&q=
uot;
"Think no more of it," she broke in,
hastily, seeing the effect of her words.
"Nay, good Jacqueline," quickly reto=
rted
the jester; "the truth, I pray you.&n=
bsp;
Believe me, I shall mend the sooner for it. What said the duke--as he calls
himself?"
"Why, he shook his head ruefully,"
answered the girl, not noticing his reservation. "'Your Majesty,' he said, 'fo=
r the
memory of bygone quibbles I sought him, but found him not--alack!--on the s=
tool
of repentance.'"
About the fool's mouth quivered the grim
suggestion of a half-smile.
"He is the best jester of us all," he
muttered. "And then?&quo=
t;
fastening his eyes upon hers.
"'No sooner, Sire,' went on the duke, 'ha=
d I
entered the cell than he rushed upon me, and, it grieves me, I used the
wit-snapper roughly.' So"--folding her hands before her and gazing at =
the
plaisant--"I e'en came to see if you were killed."
"You came," he said. "Yes; but how?"
"What matters it?" she answered. "Perhaps it was magic, and th=
e cell-doors
flew open at my touch."
"I can almost believe it," he return=
ed.
And his glance fell thoughtfully from her to t=
he
couch. Before the assault he =
had
lain at night upon the straw on the floor, and this unhoped-for immunity fr=
om
the dampness of the stones or the scampering of occasional rats suggested
another starting point for mental inquiry. She smiled, reading the
interrogation on his face.
"One of the turnkeys furnished the bed,&q=
uot;
she remarked, shrewdly. "=
;Do you
like it?"
"It is a better couch than I have been
accustomed to," he replied, in no wise misled by her response, and
surmising that her solicitation had procured him this luxury. "Nevertheless, the night has =
seemed
strangely long."
"It has been long," she returned, mo=
ving
toward the window. "A we=
ek and
more."
Surprise, incredulity, were now written upon h=
is
features. That such an interv=
al
should have elapsed since the evening of the free baron's visit appeared
incredible. He could not see =
her
countenance as she spoke; only her figure; the upper portion bright, the lo=
wer
fading into the deep shadows beneath the aperture in the wall.
"You tell me I have lain here a week?&quo=
t;
he asked finally, recalling obscure memories of faintly-seen faces and voic=
es
heard as from afar.
"And more," she repeated.
For some moments he remained silent, passing f=
rom
introspection to a current of thought of which she could know nothing; the
means he had taken to thwart the ambitious projects of the king's guest.
"Has Caillette returned?" he continu=
ed,
with ill-disguised eagerness.
"Caillette?" she answered, lifting h=
er
brows at the abruptness of the inquiry.&nb=
sp;
"Has he been away? I
had not noticed. I do not
know."
"Then is he still absent," said the
jester, decisively. "Had=
he
come back, you would have heard."
Quickly she looked at him. Caillette!--Spain!--these were the=
words
he had often uttered in his delirium.
Although he seemed much better and the hot flush had left his cheeks,
his fantasy evidently remained.
"A week and over!" resumed the fool,
more to himself than to his companion.&nbs=
p;
"But he still may return before the duke is wedded."
"And if he did return?" she asked,
wishing to humor him.
"Then the duke is not like to marry the
princess," he burst out.
"Not like--to marry!" she replied,
suddenly, and moved toward him. Her
clear eyes were full upon him; closely she studied his worn features. "=
;Not
like--but he has married her!"
The jester strove to spring to his feet, but h=
is
legs seemed as relaxed as his brain was dazed.
"Has married!--impossible!" he excla=
imed
fiercely.
"They were wedded two days since," s=
he
went on quietly, possibly regretting that surprise, or she knew not what, h=
ad
made her speak.
"Wedded two days since!"
He repeated it to himself, striving to realize
what it meant. Did it mean
anything? He remembered how
mockingly the jestress' face had shone before him in the past; how derisive=
was
her irony. From Fools' hall t=
o the
pavilion of the tournament had she flouted him.
"Wedded two days since!"
"You must have your drollery," he sa=
id,
unsteadily, at length.
She did not reply, and he continued to question
her with his eyes. Quite still she remained, save for an almost imperceptib=
le
movement of breathing. Agains=
t the
dull beams from the aperture above, her hair darkly framed her face, pale, =
dim
with half-lights, illusory. W=
hen he
again spoke his voice sounded new to his own ears.
"How could the princess have been
married? Even if I have lain =
here
as long as you say, the day for the wedding was set for at least a week from
now."
"But changed!" she responded,
unexpectedly.
"Changed!" he cried, sitting on the =
edge
of the couch, and regarding her as though he doubted he had heard aright. "Why should it have been chan=
ged?"
"Because the duke became a most impatient
suitor," she answered. "Daily he grew more eager. Finally, to attain his end, he
importuned the countess. She
laughed, but good-naturedly acceded to his request, and, in turn importuned=
the
king--who generously yielded. It
has been a rare laughing matter at court--that the duke, who appeared the l=
east
passionate adorer, should really have been such a restless one."
"Dolt that I have been!" exclaimed t=
he
jester, with more anger, it seemed to the girl, than jealousy. "He knew about Caillette, but=
professed
to be ignorant that the emperor was in Spain. And I believed his words; thought =
I was
holding something from him; let myself imagine he could not penetrate my
designs. While all the time h=
e was intriguing
with the king's favorite and felt the sense of his own security. What a cat's paw he made of me!
"Yes," she returned, surprised at his
language, and, for the first time, wondering if the duke's wooing admitted =
of
other complications than she had suspected. "They are on their way to the
duke's kingdom."
"His kingdom!" said the fool, with
derision. "But go on.
"They were married in the Chapelle de la
Trinité," responded the girl, hesitating. Then with an odd side look, she we=
nt on
rapidly: "The bridal party made an imposing cavalcade: the princess in=
her
litter, behind a number of maids on horseback. At the castle gates several pages,
dressed as Cupids, sent silver arrows after the bridal train. 'Hymen; Io
Hymen!' cried the throng.
'Godspeed!' exclaimed Queen Marguerite, and threw a parchment, tied =
with
a golden ribbon, into the princess' litter; an epithalamium, in verse, writ=
ten
in her own fair hand. 'Esto
perpetua!' murmured the red cardinal.
Besides the groom's own men, the king sent a strong escort to the
border, and thus it was a numerous company that rode from the castle, with
colors flying and the princess' handkerchief fluttering from her litter a l=
ast farewell."
"A last farewell!" repeated the
fool. "A splendent pictu=
re, Jacqueline. They all shouted Te Deum, and none=
stood
there to warn her."
"To warn!" retorted the jestress.
"But not what will follow," he said,
and, lying back on his couch, closed his eyes.
Rapidly the scene passed before him; the false
duke at the head of the cavalcade, elate, triumphant; the princess in her
litter, brilliant, dazzling; the laughter, the hurried adieus; tears and
smiles; the smart sayings of the jesters, a bride their legitimate prey, her
blushes the delight of the facetious nobles; the complacency of the
pleasure-loving king--all floated before his eyes like the figment of a
dream. How mocking the pomp a=
nd
glitter! For the princess, wh=
at an
awakening was to ensue! The f=
ree
baron must have known the emperor was in Spain, and had met the fool's
stratagem with a final masterly manoeuver.=
The bout was over; the first great bout; but in the next--would ther=
e be
a next? Jacqueline's words now implied a doubt.
"You are soon to leave here," she said. "For Paris."<= o:p>
Seated on the stool, her hands crossed over her
knees, Jacqueline seemed no longer a creature of indefinite or ambiguous
purpose. On the contrary, her
profile was rimmed in light, and very matter-of-fact and serious it seemed.=
"Why am I to leave for Paris?" he
remarked, absently.
"Because they are going to take you there=
,"
she returned, "to be tried as a heretic." He started and again sat up. "In your room was found a boo=
k by
Calvin. Of course," she =
went
on, "you will deny it belonged to you?"
"What would that avail?" he said,
indifferently. "But have=
the followers
of Luther, or Calvin, no friends in Francis' court?"
"Have they in Charles' domains?" she
asked quickly.
"The Protestants in Germany are a powerful
body; the emperor is forced to bear with them."
"Here they have no friends--openly,"=
she
went on. "Secretly--Marguerite, Marot; others perhaps. But these will not serve you; coul=
d not,
if they would. Besides, this =
heresy
of which you are accused is but a pretext to get rid of you."
"And how, good Jacqueline, has the king
treated the new sect?"
She held her hand suddenly to her throat; her =
face
went paler, as from some tragic recollection.
"Oh," she answered, "do not spe=
ak
of it!"
"They burned them?" he persisted.
"Before Notre Dame!"
Her voice was low; her eyes shone deep and
gleaming.
"You are sorry, then, for those vile
heretics?" asked the fool, curiously.
She raised her head, half-resentfully. "Their souls need no one's pi=
ty,"
she retorted, proudly.
"And you think mine is soon like to be be=
yond
earthly caring?"
Her glance became impatient. "Most like," she returne=
d,
curtly.
"But what excuse does the king give for h=
is
cruelty?" he continued, musingly.
"They threw down the sacred images in one=
of
the churches. Now a heretic n=
eed
expect no mercy. They are pla=
ced in
cages--hung from beams--over the fire.&nbs=
p;
The court was commanded to witness the spectacle--the king jested--t=
he
countess laughed, but her features were white--" Here the girl buried her face in h=
er
hands. Soon, however, she loo=
ked
up, brushing back the hair from her brow.&=
nbsp;
"Marguerite has interposed, but she is only a feather in the
balance." Abruptly she a=
rose. "Would you escape such a
fate?" she said.
He remained silent, thinking that if the missi=
on
to the emperor miscarried, his own position might, indeed, be past
mending. If the exposure of t=
he
free baron were long delayed, the fool's assurance in his own ultimate rele=
ase
might prove but vain expectation.
In Paris the trial would doubtless not be protracted. From the swift tribunal to the slo=
w fire
constituted no complicated legal process, and appeal there was none, save to
the king, from whom might be expected little mercy, less justice.
"Escape!" the jester answered, dwell=
ing
on these matters. "But
how?"
"By leaving this prison," she answer=
ed,
lowering her voice.
He glanced significantly at the walls, the win=
dows
and the door, beyond which could be heard the tread of the jailer and the
clanking of the keys hanging from his girdle.
"I would have done that long since,
Jacqueline, if I had had my will," he replied.
"Are you strong enough to attempt it?&quo=
t;
she remarked, doubtfully, scanning the thin face before her.
"Your words shall make me so," he
retorted, and looking into his glittering eyes, she almost believed him.
"Not to-day, but to-morrow," the girl
added, thoughtfully. "Pe=
rhaps then--"
"I shall be ready," he broke in
impatiently. "What must I
do?"
"Not drink this wine I have brought, but =
give
it to the turnkey in the morning.
Invite him to share it, but take none yourself, feigning sudden
illness. He will not refuse, =
being
always sharp-set for a cup. Nothing can be done with the other jailers, but
this one is a thirsty soul, ever ready to bargain for a dram. Your couch cost I know not how many
flagons. Although he drinks m=
any
tankards and pitchers every day, yet will this small bottle make him
drowsy. You will leave while =
he is sleeping."
"In the daylight, mistress?" he aske=
d,
eagerly. "Why not wait--=
"
"No," she said, decisively; "th=
ere
is no other way. This turnkey=
is only
a day watchman. It is dangero=
us,
but the best plan that suggested itself.&n=
bsp;
I know many unfrequented corridors and passages through the old part=
of
the castle the king has not rebuilt, and a road at the back, now little use=
d,
that runs through the wood and thicket down the hill. It is a desperate chance, but--&qu=
ot;
"The danger of remaining is more
desperate," he interrupted, quickly. "Besides, we shall not
fail. It is in the book of
fate." His expression ch=
anged;
became fierce, eager. "A=
re
you, indeed, the arbiter of that fate; the sorceress Triboulet feared?"=
;
"You are thinking of the duke," she
answered, with a frown, "and that if you escape--"
"Truly, you are a sorceress," he
replied, with a smile. "I
confess life has grown sweet."
She moved abruptly toward the door. "Nay, I meant not to offend
you," he spoke up, more gently.
"It is your own fortunes you ever
injure," she retorted, gazing coldly back at him.
"One moment, sweet Jacqueline. Why did you not go with the
princess?"
Her face changed; grew dark; from eyes, deep a=
nd
gloomy, she shot a quick glance upon him.
"Perhaps--because I like the court too we=
ll
to leave it," she answered mockingly, and, vouchsafing no further word,
quickly vanished. It was only=
when
she had gone the jester suddenly remembered he had forgotten to thank her f=
or
what she had done in the past or what she proposed doing on the morrow.
"Truly, are you a right proper fool; for a
man, merry in adversity, is as wise as Master Rabelais. Many the time have I heard him say=
a fit
of laughter drives away the devil, while the groans of flagellating saints =
seem
as music to Beelzebub's ears. Thus,
a wit-cracker is the demon's enemy, and the band of Pantagruel, an evangeli=
cal
brotherhood, that with tankard and pot sends the arch-fiend back to the
bottomless pit."
And the fool's jailer, seated on the stool wit=
hin
the cell, stretched out his legs and uplifted the bottle to his lips, while,
judging from the draft he took and assuming the verity of the theory he
advanced, the prince of darkness at that moment must have fled a considerab=
le distance
into his chosen realms.
"Ah, you know the great philosopher,
then?" commented the jester from the couch, closely watching the sotti=
sh,
intemperate face of his keeper, and running his glance over the unwieldy fo=
rm
which bade fair to outrival one of the wine butts in the castle cellar.
"Know him!" exclaimed this lowly
votary. "I have e'en been
admitted to his table--at the foot, 'tis true--when the brave fellows of
Pantagruel were at it. Not fo=
r my
wit was I thus honored"--the plaisant made a dissenting gesture, the i=
rony
of which passed over the head of the speaker--"but because a giant fla=
gon
appeared but a child's toy in my hands.&nb=
sp;
The followers of Pantagruel fell on both sides, like wheat before the
blade of the reaper, until Doctor Rabelais and myself only were left. From the head to the foot of the t=
able
the great man looked. How my =
heart
swelled with pride! 'Swine of
Epicurus, are you still there?' he said.&n=
bsp;
And then--and then--"
With a crash the bottle fell from the hand of = the keeper to the stone floor. The massive body swayed on the small stool; his eyes stupidly shut and opened.<= o:p>
"Swine of Epicurus," he repeated.
"Why," thought the fool, "if
Jacqueline fails me not, all may yet be well."
But even as he thus reflected the door of the =
cell
opened, and a face white as a lily, looked in. Her glance passed hastily to the m=
otionless
figure and an expression of satisfaction crossed her features.
"The keys!" she said, and the jester,
bending over the prostrate jailer, detached them from his girdle.
"Lock the door when we leave," she
continued. "The other ke=
eper
does not come to relieve him for six hours."
"It would be an offset for the many times=
he
has locked me in," answered the fool.=
"A scurvy trick; yet, as Master Rabelais says, Pantagruelians
select not their bed."
"Is this a time for jesting?" exclai=
med
the girl, impatiently.
"He has been treating me to Gargantuan
discourse, Jacqueline," said the fool, humbly. "I was but answering him in
kind."
"And by delay increasing our danger!"=
;
"Our danger!" He started.
Since she had first broached the subject of es=
cape
but one sweet and all-absorbing idea had possessed him--retaliation. Liberty was the means to that end,=
and
every other thought and consideration had given way to this desire. He had fallen asleep with the free
baron's dark features imaged on his fevered brain; when he had awakened the
morbid fantasy had not left him.
But now, at her words, in her presence, a new light was suddenly shed
upon the enterprise, and he paused abruptly, even as he turned to leave the
cell. With growing wonder she=
watched
his altered features.
"Well," she exclaimed, impatiently,
"why do you stand there?"
"Should I escape, you, Jacqueline, would
remain to bear the brunt," he said, reflectively. "The jailer, when he awakes, =
will
tell the story: who brought the wine; who succored the prisoner. To go, but one course is
open." And he glanced do=
wn
upon the prostrate man. "=
;To
silence him forever!"
She started and half-shrank from him. "Could you do it?"
He shook his head. "In fair contest, I would have
slain him. But now--it is not=
he,
but I, who am helpless. And y=
et
what is such a sot's life worth?
Nothing. Everything. Farewell, sweet jestress; I must t=
rust
to other means, and--thank you."
The outstretched hand she seemed not to see, b=
ut
tapped the floor of the cell yet more impatiently with her foot, as was her
fashion when angered. Here wa=
s the
prison door open, and the captive enamored of confinement; at the culminati=
ng
point conjuring reasons why he should not flee. To have gone thus far; to have
eliminated the jailer, and then to draw back, with the keys in his hand--tr=
uly
no scene in a comedy could be more extravagant. The girl laughed nervously.
"What egotists men are!" she said. "Good Sir Jester, in offering=
you liberty
I am serving myself; myself, you understand!" she repeated. "Let =
us
hasten on, lest in defeating your own purpose, you defeat mine."
"What will you answer when
he"--indicating the drugged turnkey--"accuses you?"
"Was ever such perversity!" was all =
she
deigned to reply, biting her lip.
"You are somewhat wilful yourself,
Jacqueline," he retorted, with that smile which so exasperated her.
"Listen," she said at length, slowly,
impressively. "You need =
have
no fear for me when you go. I=
tell
you that more danger remains to me by your staying than in your going; that
your obstinacy leaves me unprotected; that your compliance would be a boon =
to
me. By the memory of my mothe=
r, by
the truth of this holy book"--drawing a little volume passionately fro=
m her
bosom--"I swear to what I have told you." Eagerly her eyes met his
searching gaze, and he read in their depths only truth and candor. "I have a quest for you. It concerns my life, my happiness.=
All I have done for you has been f=
or
this end."
Her eyes fell, but she raised them again
quickly. "Will you accep=
t a mission
from one who is not--a princess?"
"Name her not!" exclaimed the jester
sharply. And then, recovering=
himself,
added, less brusquely: "What is it you want, mistress?"
"This is no time nor place to tell it,&qu=
ot;
she went on rapidly, seeing by his face that his dogged humor had melted be=
fore
her appeal, "but soon, before we part, you shall know all; what it is I
wish to intrust in your hands."
A moment she waited. "Your argument is unanswerabl=
e,
Jacqueline," he said finally.
"I own myself puzzled, but I believe you, so--have your way.&qu=
ot;
"This cloak then"--handing him a gar=
ment
she had brought with her--"throw it over you," she continued
hurriedly. "If we meet a=
ny one
it may serve as a disguise. A=
nd
here is a sword," bringing forth a weapon that she had carried conceal=
ed
beneath a flowing mantle. &qu=
ot;Can
you use it?"
"I can but try, Jacqueline," he repl=
ied,
fastening the girdle about his waist and half-drawing and then thrusting the
blade back into the scabbard.
"It seems a priceless weapon," he added, his eye lingering=
on
the richly inlaid hilt, "and has doubtless been wielded by a gallant h=
and."
"Speak not of that," she retorted,
sharply, a strange flash in her eyes.
"He who handled it was the bravest, noblest--" She broke off abruptly, and they l=
eft
the cell, he locking the door behind him.
Down the dimly lighted passage she walked rapi=
dly,
while the jester tractably and silently followed. His strength, he found, had come b=
ack to
him; the joys of freedom imparted new elasticity to his limbs; that narrow,
cheerless way looked brighter than a royal gallery, or Francis' Salle des
Fêtes. Before him float=
ed the
light figure of the jestress, moving faster and ever faster down the dark c=
orridor,
now veering to the right or left, again ascending or descending well-worn s=
teps;
a tortuous route through the heart of the ancient fortress, whose mystery
seemed dread and covert as that of a prison house. Confidently, knowing well
the puzzling interior plan of the old pile, she traversed the labyrinth that
was to lead them without, finally pausing before a small door, which she tr=
ied.
"Usually it is unlocked," she said, =
in
surprise. "I never knew =
it fastened
before."
"Is that our only way out?"
"The only safe way. Perhaps one of the keys--"
But he had already knelt before the door and t=
he
young girl watched him with obvious anxiety. He vainly essayed all the keys, sa=
ve
one, and that he now strove to fit to the lock. It slipped in snugly and the stubb=
orn
bolt shot back.
Entering, he closed the door behind them and
hastily looked around, discovering that they stood in a crypt, the central =
part
of which was occupied by a burial vault.&n=
bsp;
In the crypt chapels were a number of statues, in marble and bronze,
most of them rude, antique, yet not of indifferent workmanship, especially =
one
before which the jestress, in spite of the exigency of the moment, stopped =
as
if impelled by an irresistible impulse.&nb=
sp;
This monument, so read the inscription, had been erected by the reno=
wned
Constable of Dubrois to his young and faithful consort, Anne.
But a part of a minute the girl gazed, with a =
new
and softened expression, upon the marble likeness of the last fair mistress=
of
the castle, and then hurriedly crossed the old mosaic pavement, reaching a =
narrow
flight of stairs, which she swiftly ascended. A door that yielded to the fool's
shoulder led into a deserted court, on one side of which were the crumbling
walls of the chapel. Here sev=
eral
dark birds perched uncannily on the dead branch of a massive oak that had b=
een
shattered by lightning. In its
desolation the oak might have been typical of the proud family, once rulers=
of
the castle, whose corporeal strength had long since mingled with the elemen=
ts.
This open space the two fugitives quickly
traversed, passing through a high-arched entrance to an olden bridge that
spanned a moat. Long ago had =
the
feudal gates been overthrown by Francis; yet above the keystone appeared, n=
ot
the salamander, the king's heraldic emblem, but the almost illegible device=
of
the old constable. Beyond the=
great
ditch outstretched a rolling country on which the jester gazed with eager e=
yes,
while his companion swiftly led the way to a clump of willow and aspen on t=
he
other side of the moat. Benea=
th the
spreading branches were tethered two horses, saddled and bridled. Wonderingly he glanced from them t=
o her.
"From whence did you conjure them, gentle
mistress?" asked the fool.
"Some one I knew placed them there."=
"But why--two horses, good Jacqueline?&qu=
ot;
"Because I am minded to show you the path
through the wood," she replied.
"You might mistake it and then my purpose would not be served.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Give me your hand, sir. I am wont to have my own way."=
; And as he reluctantly extended his=
palm
she placed her foot upon it, springing lightly to the saddle. "'Tis but a canter through th=
e forest. The day is glorious, and 'twill be=
rare
sport."
Already had she gathered in the reins and turn=
ed
her horse, galloping down a road that swept through a grove of poplar and
birch, and he, after a moment's hesitation, rode after her. Like one born to the chase, she ke=
pt her
seat, her lithe figure swaying to the movements of the steed. Soon the brighter green of her gown
fluttered amid the somber-tinted pines and elms, as the younger forest grow=
th
merged into a stern array of primeval monarchs. Here reigned an austere silence--a=
stillness
that now became the more startlingly broken.
"Jacqueline!" said the fool, spurring
toward her. "Do you
hear?"
"The hunters? Yes," she replied.
"They are coming this way."
"Perhaps it were better to draw back from=
the
road," she suggested, calmly.
"Do you draw back to the castle!" he
returned, quickly, his brow overcast.
"And miss the hunt? Not I, Monsieur Spoil-Sport."=
"But if they find you with me?"
She only tossed her head wilfully and did not
answer.
Nearer came the hue and cry of the chase. A heavy-horned buck sprang into th=
e road
and vanished like a flash into the timber on the other side. Shortly afterward, in a compact bu=
nch,
with heads downbent and stiffened tails, the pack, a howling, discordant ma=
ss,
swept across the narrow, open space.
"Quick!" exclaimed the jester, and t=
hey
turned their horses into the underbrush.
Scarcely had they done so when, closely follow=
ing
the dogs, appeared the first of the hunters, mounted on a splendid charger,
with housings of rose-velvet.
"Pardieu!" muttered the plaisant,
"I owe the king no thanks, but he rides well. Do you not think so, Jacqueline?&q=
uot;
Her answering gaze was puzzling. After Francis rode many lords and =
ladies,
a stream of color crossing the road; riding habits faced with gold; satin
doublets covered with rivières of diamonds; torsades wherein gold be=
came
the foil to precious stones. =
So
near was the gorgeous cavalcade--the grand falconer, whippers-in, and the
bearers of hooded birds mingling with the courtiers immediately behind the =
king--the
escaped prisoner and the jestress could hear the panting of horses. Fleeting, transient, it passed; fa=
inter
sounded the din of hounds and horn; now it almost died away in the
distance. The last couple had
scarcely vanished before the fool and his companion left their ambush.
"You ride farther, Jacqueline?" he s=
aid.
"A little farther."
"It will be far to return," he
protested.
"I have no fear," she answered,
tranquilly.
Again he let her have her way, as one would yi=
eld
to a wilful child. On and on they sped; past the place where the deer-run
crossed the broader path; through an ever-varying forest; now on one side, a
rocky basin overrun with trees and shrubs; again, on the other hand, a grea=
t gorge,
in whose depths flowed a whispering stream. Yonder appeared the gray walls of =
an
ancient monastery, one part only of which was habitable; a turn in the road
swallowed it up as though abruptly to complete the demolition time was slow=
ly
to bring about. On and on, un=
til
the way became wilder and the wood more overgrown with bushes and tangled
shrubbery, when she suddenly stopped her horse.
He understood; at last they were to part. And, remembering what he owed to h=
er,
the Jester suddenly found himself regretting that here their paths separated
forever. Swiftly his mind fle=
w back
to their first meeting; when she had flouted him in Fools' hall. A perverse, capricious maid. How she had ever crossed him, and
yet--nursed him.
Attentively he regarded her. The customary pallor of her face h=
ad given
way to a faint tint; her eyes were humid, dewy-bright; beneath the little c=
ap,
the curling tresses would have been the despair of those later-day reformer=
s,
the successors of Calvinists and Lutherans.
"A will-o'-the-wisp," he thought.
Did she read what he felt? That mingled gratitude and
perplexity? Her clear eyes
certainly seemed to have a peculiar mastery over the thoughts of others.
"The greater danger is over," she sa=
id,
quietly. "From now on th=
ere is
less fear of your being taken."
"Thanks to you!" he answered, search=
ing
her with his glance.
Here he doubted not she would make known the q=
uest
of which she had spoken. What=
ever
it might be, he would faithfully requite her; even to making his own purpose
subservient to it.
"It is now time," she said, demurely,
"to acquaint you with the mission.&nb=
sp;
Of course, you will accept it?"
"Can you ask?" he answered, earnestl=
y.
"You promise?"
"To serve you with my life."
"Then we had better go on," she
continued.
"But, Mademoiselle, I thought--"
"That we were to part here? Not at all. I am not yet ready to leave you. In fact, good Master Jester, I am =
going
with you. I am the quest; I a=
m the
mission. Are you sorry you
promised?"
=
She, the quest, the mission! With growing amazement he gazed at=
her, but
she returned his look, as though enjoying his surprise.
"You do not seem overpleased with the
prospect of my company?" she observed. "Or perhaps you fear I may en=
cumber
you?" With mock irony. "Confess, the service is more onerous than=
you
expected?"
Beneath her flushed, yet smiling face lay a
nervous earnestness he could divine, but not fathom.
"Different, certainly," he answered,
brusquely.
Her eyes flashed. "How complimentary you are!&q=
uot;
"For your own sake--"
"My sake!" she exclaimed,
passionately. Her little hand
closed fiercely; proudly her eyes burned into his. "Think you I have taken this =
step
idly? That it is but the capr=
ice of
a moment? Oh, no; no! It was
necessary to flee from the court.
But to whom could a woman turn?&nbs=
p;
Not to any of the court--tools of the king. One person only was there; he whos=
e life
was as good as forfeited. Do =
you
understand?"
"That my life belongs to you? Yes. But that you should leave the cour=
t--where
you have influence, friends--"
"Influence! friends!"
He was startled by the bitterness of her voice=
.
"Tell me, Jacqueline--why do you wish to
go?" he said, wonderingly.
"Because I wish to," she returned,
briefly, and stroked the shining neck of her horse.
Indeed, how could she apprise him of events wh=
ich
were now the talk of the court? How
Francis, evincing a sudden interest as strong as it was unexpected, had
exchanged Triboulet for herself, and the princess, at the king's request, h=
ad
taken the buffoon with her, and left the girl behind. The jestress' welcome to the house=
hold
of the Queen of Navarre; a subsequent bewildering shower of gifts; the
complacent, although respectful, attentions of the king. How she had endured these advances=
until
no course remained save the one she had taken. No; she could not tell the duke's =
fool
all this.
Between folle and fugitive fell a mutual
reserve. Did he divine some p=
ortion
of the truth? Are there momen=
ts
when the mind, tuned to a tension, may almost feel what another
experiences? Why had the girl=
not
gone with her mistress? He
remembered she had evaded this question when he had asked it. Looking at her, for the first time=
it
crossed his mind she would be held beautiful; an odd, strange beauty, imper=
ious
yet girlish, and the conviction crept over him there might be more than a
shadow of excuse for her mad flight.
Beneath his scrutiny her face grew cold,
disdainful. "Like all
men," she said, sharply, as though to stay the trend of his thoughts,
"you are prodigal in promises, but chary in fulfilment."
"Where is it your pleasure to go?" he
asked quietly.
"That we shall speak of hereafter," =
she
answered, haughtily.
"Forward then."
"I can ride on alone," she demurred,
"if--"
"Nay; 'tis I who crave the quest," he
returned, gravely.
Her face broke into smiles, "What a devot=
ed
cavalier!" she exclaimed. "Come, then. Let us ride out into the world.
"You may be an enchantress, mistress, but=
the
spell you cast is not diablerie," he answered in the same tone.
"Fine words!" she said, mockingly. "But it remains to be seen in=
to what
a world I am going to lead you!"
And rode on.
The rush of air, the swift motion, the changing aspect of nature were apparently not without their effect on her spirits, f= or as they galloped along she appeared to forget their danger, the certainty o= f pursuit and the possibility of capture. Blithesome she continued; called his attention to a startled hare; pointed with her whip to a red-eyed boar that sullenly retreated at their approach; laughed when an overhanging branch swept her little cap from her = head and merrily thanked him when he hastily dismounted and returned it to her.<= o:p>
"You see, fool, what a burden I am like to
prove!" she said, readjusting the cap, and, ere he could answer, had
passed on, as if challenging him to a test of speed.
"Have a care!" he cried warningly, as
they came to a rough stretch of ancient highway, but she seemed not to hear
him.
That she could ride in such madcap fashion,
seemingly oblivious of the gravity of their desperate fortunes, was not
ill-pleasing to the jester; no timorous companion, shrinking from phantoms,=
he
surmised she would prove. Thu=
s mile
after mile they covered and the shadows had reached their minimum length, w=
hen,
coming to a clear pool of water, they drew rein to refresh themselves from =
the
provisions in the saddle-bags.
Bread and wine--sumptuous fare for poor fugitives--they ate and drank
with keen relish. Dreamily she
watched the green insects skimming over the surface of the shimmering
water. On the bank swayed the
rushes, as though making obeisance to a single gorgeous lily, set like a qu=
een
in the center of this little shining kingdom.
"Was the repast to your liking?" she
asked, suddenly looking from the pool to him.
"Entirely, fair Jacqueline. The wine was excellent. Hunger gave it bouquet, and appeti=
te
aged it. Never did bread tast=
e so
wholesome, and as for the service--"
"It was perfect--lacking grand master, gr=
and
chamberlain, grand marshals, grand everybody," she laughed.
In the reflected glow from pool and shining
leaves, her eyes were so full of light he could but wonder if this were the=
same
person who had so gravely stood by his bedside in the cell. That she should thus seem careless=
ly to
dismiss all thought of danger appeared the more surprising, because he knew=
she
was not one to lull herself with the assurance of a false security. To him her bright eyes said: "=
;I am
in your care. Be yours the ta=
sk
now." And thus interpret=
ing,
he broke in upon her thoughts.
"Having dined and wined so well, shall we=
go
on, Jacqueline?"
To which she at once assented by rising, and s=
oon
they had left the principality of the lily far in the distance. Now the road so narrowed he fell
behind. The character of the
country had changed; some time ago they had passed out of the wild forest, =
and
had begun to traverse a great, level plain, broken with stubble. As far as the eye could reach, no =
other
human figures were visible; the land outstretched, apparently without end; =
no
habitations dotted the landscape, and, the sole signs of life, wheeling bir=
ds
of prey, languidly floated in the air.&nbs=
p;
At length she glanced around.
Was it to reassure herself the jester rode near; that she had not,
unattended, entered that forbidding territory? Then she paused abruptly and the f=
ool
approached.
"By this time the turnkey should be
relieved," she said.
"But not released," he answered, hol=
ding
up the keys which he yet wore at his girdle. "They will have to come a long
distance to find them," he continued, and threw the keys far away upon=
the
sward.
"They may not think of following on this =
road
at all," she returned. "It is the old castle thoroughfare, long s=
ince
disused."
"And leads where?"
"Southward, to the main road."
"How came you to know it?" he asked,
quickly.
"How--because I lived in the castle before
the king built the palace and the new thoroughfare," she answered slow=
ly.
"You lived in the castle, then, when it w=
as
the residence of the proud Constable of Dubrois? You must have been but a child,&qu=
ot; he
added, reflectively.
"Yes; but children may have long
memories."
"In your case, certainly. How well you knew all the passages=
and corridors
of the castle!"
She responded carelessly and changed the
conversation. The thoroughfare
broadening, for the remainder of the day they pressed forward side by
side. But a single human figu=
re,
during all those hours, they encountered, and that when the afternoon had
fairly worn away. For some ti=
me
they had pursued their journey silently, when at a turn in the road the hor=
se
of the jester shied and started back.
At the same time an unclean, offensive-looking
monk in Franciscan attire arose suddenly out of the stubble by the
wayside. In his hand he held a
heavy staff, newly cut from the forest, a stock which in his brawny arms se=
emed
better adapted for a weapon than as a prop for his sturdy frame. From the rope girdle about his wai=
st
depended a rosary whose great beads would have served the fingers of a Cycl=
ops,
and a most diminutive, leathern-bound prayer-book. At the appearance of the fool and =
his
companion, he opened an enormous mouth, and in a voice proportionately larg=
e began
to whine right vigorously:
"Charity, good people, for the Mother
Church! Charity in the name o=
f the
Holy Mother! In the name of t=
he
saints, the apostles and the evangelists!&=
nbsp;
St. John, St. Peter, St.--"&nb=
sp;
Then broke off suddenly, staring stupidly at the jester.
"The duke's fool!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here? A plague upon it! You have as many lives as a monk.&=
quot;
"Call you yourself a monk, rascal?"
asked the jester, contemptuously.
"At times. Charity, good fool!" the cant=
ing
rogue again began to whine, edging nearer.=
"Charity, mistress! For
the sake of the prophets and the disciples! The seven sacraments, the feast of=
the Pentecost
and the Passover! In the name=
of
the holy Fathers! St. Sebasti=
an! St. Michael! St.--"
But the fugitives had already sped on, and the
unregenerate knave turned his pious eloquence into an unhallowed channel of
oaths, waving his staff menacingly after them.
"I fear me," said the jester, when t=
hey
had put a goodly distance between themselves and the solitary figure,
"yonder brother craves almsgiving with his voice, and enforces the bou=
nty
with his staff. Woe betide th=
e good
Samaritan who falls within reach of his pilgrim's prop."
"You knew him?" she asked.
"I had the doubtful pleasure," he
answered. "He was hired =
to
kill me."
"Why?" in surprise.
"Because the--duke wanted me out of the
way."
She asked no further questions, although he co=
uld
see by her brow she was thinking deeply.&n=
bsp;
Was the duke then no better than a common assassin? She frowned, then gave an impatient
exclamation.
"It is inexplicable," she said, and =
rode
the faster.
The jester, too, was silent, but his mind dwelt
upon the future and its hazards. He
little liked their meeting with the false monk. Why was the Franciscan traveling in
their direction? Had others o=
f that
band of pillagers, street-fools and knave-minstrels, formerly infesting the=
neighborhood
of the palace, gone that way? He
did not believe the monk would long pursue a solitary pilgrimage, for varle=
ts
of that kind have common haunts and byways. The encounter suggested hazard ahe=
ad as
well as the danger of pursuit from the palace. But this apprehension of a new sou=
rce of
peril he kept from his companion; since go on they must, there was no need =
to
disquiet her further.
The mystic silver light of the day had now bec=
ome
golden; the sky, brilliant, many-colored, overdomed the vast, sullen earth;
between two roseate streamers a whitish crescent unobtrusively was set. Seemingly misplaced in a sanguinar=
y sea,
passionless it lay, but as the ocean of light grew dull the crescent
kindled. Over a thick patch o=
f pine
trees in the distance myriads of dark birds hovered and screamed in chorus.=
Now
they circled restlessly above that shaded spot; then darted off, a cloud
against the sky, and returned with renewed cawing and discord. As the riders
approached the din abruptly ceased, the creatures mysteriously and suddenly
vanishing into the depths of the thicket below.
In the fading light, fool and jestress drew re=
in,
and, moved by the same purpose, looked about them. On the one hand was the deserted, =
desolate
plain over which lay a sullen, gathering mist; on the other, the sombrous
obscurity of the wood. Everyw=
here,
an ominous silence, and overhead the crescent growing in luster.
"Do you see any sign of house or inn?&quo=
t;
said the girl, peering afar down the road, which soon lost itself in the
general monotony of the landscape.
"None, mistress; the country seems alike
barren of farmhouse or tavern."
"What shall we do? I am full weary," she confess=
ed.
"The forest offers the best protection,&q=
uot;
he reluctantly suggested. Little as he favored delay, he realized the wisdo=
m of
sparing their
horses.
Moreover, her appeal was irresistible.
She gazed half-dubiously into that woody
depth. "Why not rest by =
the wayside--in
the moonlight?"
"I like not the open road," he
answered. "But if you fe=
ar the
darkness--"
For answer she guided her horse to the verge of
the forest and lightly sprang to the ground. Upon a grassy knoll, but a little =
way
within, he spread his cloak.
"There, Jacqueline, is your couch," =
he
said.
"But you?" she asked. "To rob you thus of your cloak
seems ill-comradeship."
"The cloak is yours," he returned. "As it is, you will find it b=
ut a hard
bed."
"It will seem soft as down," she
replied, and seated herself on the hillock. In the gloom he could just disting=
uish
the outline of her figure, with her elbow on her knee, and her hair blacker
than the shadows themselves. A
long-drawn, moaning sound, coming without warning behind her, caused the gi=
rl
to turn.
"What is that?" she said, quickly.
"The wind, Jacqueline. It is rising."
As he spoke, like a monster it entered the for=
est;
about them branches waved and tossed: a friendly star seen through the boug=
hs
lost itself behind a cloud. Y=
et no
rain fell and the air seemed hot and dry, despite the mists which clung to =
the
ground. A crash of thunder or=
a flash
of lightning would have relieved that sighing dolor which filled the little
patch of timber with its melancholy sounds.
Suddenly, above the plaint and murmur of wind =
and
forest, the low, clear voice of the girl arose; the melody was no ballad,
arietta or pastoral, such as he had before heard from her lips, but a simple
hymn, the setting by Calvin. =
The
jester started. How came she =
to
know that forbidden music? No=
t only
to know, but to sing it as he had never heard it sung before. Sweetly it vibrated, her waywardne=
ss
sunk in its swelling rhythm; its melody freighted with the treasure of her
trust. As he listened he felt she was betraying to him the hidden well of h=
er faith;
the secret of her religion; that she, his companion, was proclaiming hersel=
f a
heretic, and, therefore, doubly an outcast.
A stanza, and the melody died away on the wing=
s of
the tempest. His heart was be=
ating
violently; he looked expectantly toward her. Even more gently, like a lullaby t=
o the
turbulent night, the full-measured cadence of the majestic psalm was again
heard. Then another voice, de=
eper,
fuller, blended with that of the first singer. Unwavering, she continued the song=
, as
though it had been the most natural matter he should join his voice with
hers. Fainter fell the harmon=
y;
then ceased altogether--a hymn destined to become interwoven with terrible =
memories,
the tragic massacre of the Huguenots on the ill-fated night of St.
Bartholomew. Again prevailed =
the
tristful dirge of the pines.
"You sing well, mistress," said the
jester, softly. "Is it t=
rue
you are one of a hated sect?"
"As true as that you did not deny the her=
etic
volume found in your room," she replied.
A silence ensued between them. "It was Marot placed the hors=
es
there for us," she said, at length.&n=
bsp;
"He, too, is a heretic, and would have saved you."
Thereafter the silence remained unbroken for s=
ome
moments, and then--
"God keep you, mistress," he said.
"God keep you," she answered, softly=
.
Soon her deep breathing told him she was sleep=
ing,
and, as he listened, in fancy he could hear the faint echoes of her voice,
accompanied by the sighing wind.
How intrepid had she seemed; how helpless was she now; and, as he be=
nt
over her, divining yet not seeing, he asked himself whence had come this fa=
ith
in him, that like a child she slumbered amid the unrest of nature? What had her life been, who her fr=
iends,
that she should thus have chosen a jester as comrade? What had driven her forth from the=
court
to nameless hazards? Had he s=
urmised
correctly? Was it--
"The king," she murmured, with sudden
restlessness in her sleep.
"The king," she repeated, with avers=
ion.
In the jester's breast upleaped a fierce
anger. This was the art-loving
monarch who burned the fathers and brothers of the new faith; this, the
righteous ruler who condemned men to death for psalm-singing or for listeni=
ng
to grave discourse; this the Christian king, the brilliant patron of science
and learning.
The storm had sighed itself to rest, the stars=
had
come out, but leaning with his back against a tree, the fool still kept vig=
il.
=
Experiencing no further inconvenience than the
ordinary vicissitudes of traveling without litter or cavalcade, several day=
s of
wandering slowly passed. Few =
people
they met, and those, for the most part, various types of vagabonds and noma=
ds;
some wild and savage, roaming like beasts from place to place; others,
harmless, mere bedraggled birds of passage. In this latter class were the
vagrant-entertainers, with dancing rooster or singing dog, who stopped at e=
very
peasant's door. To the shrill piping of the flageolet, these merry straggle=
rs
added a step of their own, and won a crust for themselves, a bone for the d=
og or
a handful of grain for the performing fowl.
In those days when court ladies rode in carved=
and
gilded coaches, and their escorts on horses covered with silken, jeweled ne=
ts,
the modest appearance of the jestress and her companion was not calculated =
to attract
especial attention from the yokels and honest peasantry; although their ste=
eds,
notwithstanding their unpretentious housings, might still excite the cupidi=
ty
of highway rogues. As it mini=
mized their
risk from this latter class, the young girl was content to wear the cap of =
the
jestress, piquantly perched upon her dark curls, thereby suggesting an
indefinable affinity with vagrancy and the itinerant fraternity.
Not only had she donned the symbol of her offi=
ce,
but she endeavored to act up to it, accepting the sweet with the sour, with
ever a jest at discomfort and concealing weariness with a smile. Often the fool wondered at her end=
urance
and her calm courage in the face of peril, for although they met with no
misadventures, each day seemed fraught with jeopardy. Perhaps it was fortunate their att=
ire,
somewhat travel-stained, appeared better suited to the character of poor, m=
igratory
wearers of the cap and bells than to the more magnificent roles of fou du r=
oi
or folle de la reine. But alt=
hough
they had gone far, the jester knew they had not yet traveled beyond the rea=
ch
of Francis' arm, and that, while the king might reconcile himself to the es=
cape
of the plaisant, he would not so easily tire in seeking the maid.
Once they slept in the fields; again, beside an
old ruined shrine, in the shadow of an ancient cross; the third night, on t=
he
bank of a stream, when it rained, and she shivered until dawn with no word =
of complaint. Fortunately the sun arose, bright =
and
warm, drying the garments that clung to her slender figure, At the peasants'
houses they paused no longer than necessary to procure food and drink, and,=
not
to awaken suspicion, she preferred paying them with a song of the people ra=
ther
than from the well-filled purse she had brought with her.
And as the fool listened to a sprightly,
contagious carol and noted its effect on clod and hind, he wondered if this
could be the same voice he had heard, uplifted in one of Master Calvin's ps=
alms
in the solitude of the forest. She
had the gift of music, and, sometimes on the journey, would break out with a
catch or madrigal by Marot, Caillette, or herself. It appeared a brave effort to bear=
up
under continued hardship--insufficient rest and sharp riding--and the jester
reproached himself for thus taxing her strength; but often, when he suggest=
ed a
pause, she would shake her head wilfully, assert she was not tired, and ride
but the faster.
"No, no!" she would say; "if we
would escape, we must keep on. We
can rest afterward."
"Where do you wish to go?" he asked =
her
once.
"There is time enough yet to speak of
that," she returned, evasively.
"You have some plan, mistress?"
"Perhaps."
This answer forbade his further questioning;
offended, possibly, his sense of that confidence which is due comrade to
comrade, but she became immediately so propitiative and sweetly dependent--=
the antithesis
to that self-reliance her response implied--he thought no more of it, but r=
emained
content with her reticence.
Half-shyly, she looked at him beneath her dark lashes, as if to read=
how
deeply he was annoyed, and, seeing his face clear, laughed lightly.
"What are you laughing at, mistress?"=
; he
said.
"If I knew I could tell," she replie=
d.
Toward sundown on the fourth day they came to a
lonely inn, set in a clearing on the verge of a forest. They had ridden late in the moonli=
ght
the night before, and all that morning and afternoon almost without resting,
and the first sight of the solitary hostelry was not unwelcome to the weary
fugitives. A second inspectio=
n of
the place, however, awakened misgivings.&n=
bsp;
The building seemed the better adapted for a fortress than a tavern,
being heavily constructed with massive doors and blinds, and loopholes
above. A brightly painted sig=
n, The
Rooks' Haunt, waved cheerily, it is true, above the door, as though to disa=
rm
suspicion, but the isolated situation of the inn, and the depressing sense =
of
the surrounding wilderness, might well cause the wayfarer to hesitate wheth=
er
to tarry there or continue his journey.
A glance at the pale face and unnaturally brig=
ht
eyes of the girl brought the jester, however, to a quick decision. Springing from his horse, he held =
out
his hand to assist her, but, overcome by weakness, or fatigue, she would ha=
ve
fallen had he not sustained her.
Quickly she recovered, and with a faint flush mantling her white che=
ek, withdrew
from his grasp, while at the same time the landlord of the tavern came forw=
ard
to welcome his guests.
In appearance mine host was round and jovial; =
his
bulk bespoke hearty living; his rosy face reflected good cheer; his stentor=
ian
voice, free-and-easy hospitality.
His eyes constituted the only setback to this general impression of
friendliness and fellow-feeling; they were small, twinkling, glassy.
"Good even to you, gentle folk," he
said. "You tarry for the
night, I take it?"
"If you have suitable accommodations,&quo=
t;
answered the jester, reassured by the man's aspect and manner.
"The Rooks' Haunt never yet turned away a
weary traveler," answered the landlord. "You come from the palace?&qu=
ot;
"Yes," briefly, as a lad led away th=
eir
horses.
"And have done well? Reaped a harvest from the merry lo=
rds
and ladies?"
"There were many others there for that pu= rpose," returned the jester, following the proprietor to the door of the hostelry.<= o:p>
"True.&n=
bsp;
Still I'll warrant your fair companion cozened the silver pieces from
the pockets of the gentry."
And, smiling knowingly, he ushered them into the principal living ro=
om
of the tavern.
It was a smoke-begrimed apartment, with tables
next to the wall, and rough chairs and benches for the guests. Heavy pine rafters spanned the cei=
ling;
the floor was sprinkled with sand; from a chain hung a wrought-iron frame f=
or
candles. Upon a shelf a row of
battered tankards, suggesting many a bout, shone dully, like a line of war-=
worn
troopers, while a great pewter pitcher, the worse for wear, commanded the
disreputable array.
In this room was gathered a nondescript compan=
y:
mountebanks and buffoons; rogues unclassified, drinking and dicing; a robust
vagrant, at whose feet slept a performing boar, with a ring--badge of servi=
tude--through
its nose; a black-bearded, shaggy-haired Spanish troubadour, with attire so
ragged and worn as to have lost its erstwhile picturesque characteristics.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> This last far from prepossessing w=
orthy
half-started from his seat upon the appearance of fool and jestress; stared=
at
them, and then resumed his place and the ballad he had been singing:
"Within the garden of Beaucaire He met her by a secret stair,=
Said Aucassin, 'My love, my p=
et, These old confessors vex me s=
o! They threaten all the pains o=
f hell
Unless I give you up, ma
belle,'-- Said Aucassin=
to
Nicolette."
=
Watching
the nimble fingers of the shabby minstrel with pitiably childish expression=
of
amusement, a half-imbecile morio leaned upon the table. His huge form, for he was a giant =
among
stalwart men, and his great moon-shaped head made him at once an object hid=
eous
and miserable to contemplate. But
the poor creature seemed unaware of his own deformities, and smiled content=
edly
and patted the table caressingly to the sprightly rhythm.
Gazing upon this choice assemblage, the plaisa=
nt
was vaguely conscious that some of the curious and uncommon faces seemed
familiar, and the picture of the Franciscan monk whom they had overtaken on=
the
road recurred to him, together with the misgivings he had experienced upon
parting from that canting knave. He
half-expected to see Nanette; to hear her voice, and was relieved that the
gipsy on this occasion did not make one of the unwonted gathering. The landlord, observing the fool's
discriminating gaze, and reading something of what was passing in his mind,
reassuringly motioned the new-comers to an unoccupied corner, and by his ma=
nner
sought to allay such mistrust as the appearance of his guests was calculate=
d to
inspire.
"We have to take those that come," he
said, deprecatorily. "Th=
e rascals
have money. It is as good as =
any
lord's. Besides, whate'er the=
y do
without, here must they behave.
And--for their credit--they are docile as children; ruled by the coo=
k's
ladle. You will find that, th=
ough
there be ill company, you will partake of good fare. If I say it myself, there's no bet=
ter
master of the flesh pots outside of Paris than at this hostelry. The rogues eat as well as the king=
's
gentlemen. Feasting, then fasting, is their precept."
"At present we have a leaning for the for=
mer,
good host," carelessly answered the fool. "Though the latter will, no d=
oubt,
come later."
"For which reason it behooves a man to ea=
t,
drink and be merry while he may," retorted the other. "What say you to a carp on the
spit, with shallots, and a ham boiled with pistachios?"
"The ham, if it be ready. Our appetites are too sharp to wai=
t for
the fish."
"Then shall you have with it a cold teal =
from
the marshes, and I'll warrant such a repast as you have not tasted this man=
y a
day. Because a man lives in a
retired spot, it does not follow he may not be an epicure," he went on,
"and in my town days I was considered a good fellow among
gourmands." His eyes twi=
nkled;
he studied the new-comers a moment, and then vanished kitchenward.
His self-praise as a provider of creature comf=
orts
proved not ill deserved; the viands, well prepared, were soon set before th=
em;
a serving lad filled their glasses from a skin of young but sound wine he b=
ore
beneath his arm, and, under the influence of this cheer, the young girl's c=
heek
soon lost its pallor. In the =
past
she had become accustomed to rough as well as gentle company; so now it was
disdain, not fear, she experienced in that uncouth gathering; the same sort=
of contempt
she had once so openly expressed for Master Rabelais, whipper-in for all
gluttons, wine-bibbers and free-livers.
As the darkness gathered without, the merriment
increased within. Over the sc=
ene
the dim light cast an uncertain luster.&nb=
sp;
Indefatigably the dicers pursued their pastime, with now and then an
audible oath, or muttered imprecation, which belied that docility mine host=
had
boasted of. The troubadour pl=
ayed
and the morio yet listened. S=
everal
of a group who had been singing now sat in sullen silence. Suddenly one of them muttered a br=
oken
sentence and his fellows immediately turned their eyes toward the corner wh=
ere
were fool and jestress. This =
ripple
of interest did not escape the young girl's attention, who said uneasily:
"Why do those men look at us?"
"One of them spoke to the others,"
replied the jester. "He =
called
attention to something."
"What do you suppose it was?" she as=
ked
curiously.
"Gladius gemmatus!" ["The jewel=
ed
sword."]
Whence came the voice? Near the couple, in a shadow, sat a
woebegone looking man who had been holding a book so close to his eyes as t=
o conceal
his face. Now he permitted the
volume to fall and the jester uttered an exclamation of surprise, as he loo=
ked
upon those pinched, worn, but well-remembered features.
"The scamp-student!" he said.
Immediately the reader buried his head once mo=
re
behind the book and spoke aloud in Latin as though quoting some passage whi=
ch
he followed with his finger; "Did you understand?"
"Yes," answered the plaisant, appare=
ntly
speaking to the jestress, whose face wore a puzzled expression.
The scamp-student laid the volume on the table=
. "These men are outlaws and int=
end to
kill you for your jeweled sword," he continued in the language of Hora=
ce.
"Why do you tell me this?" asked the
fool in the same tongue, now addressing directly the scholar.
"Because you spared my life once; I would=
serve
you now."
"What's all this monk's gibberish
about?" cried an angry voice, as the master of the boar stepped toward
them.
"A discussion between two scholars,"
readily answered the scamp-student.
"Why don't you talk in a language we
understand?" grumbled the man.
"Latin is the tongue of learning," w=
as
the humble response.
"I like not the sound of it," retort=
ed
the other, as he retired. Fro=
m a
distance, however, he continued to cast suspicious glances in their directi=
on. Bewildered, the girl looked from o=
ne of
the alleged controverters to the other.&nb=
sp;
Who was this starveling the jester seemed to know? Again were they conversing in the
language of the monastery, and their colloquy led to a conclusion as unexpe=
cted
as it was startling.
"What if we leave the inn now?" asked
the jester.
"They would prevent you."
"Who is the leader?"
"The man with the boar," answered the
scamp-student. "But it i=
s the morio
who usually kills their victims."
The jester glanced at the colossal monster,
repugnant in deformity, and then at the girl, who was tapping impatiently on
the table with her white fingers.
The fool's color came and went; what human strength might stand agai=
nst
that frightful prodigy of nature?
"Is there no way to escape?" he aske=
d.
"Alas!&n=
bsp;
I can but warn; not advise," said the scholar. "Already the leader suspects
me."
A half-shiver ran through him. In the presence of actual and seem=
ingly assured
death he had appeared calm, resigned, a Socrates in temperament; before the
mere prospect of danger the apprehensive thief-and-fugitive elements of his
nature uprose. He would meet,=
when need
be, the grim-visaged monster of dissolution with the dignity of a stoic, bu=
t by
habit disdained not to dodge the shadow with the practised agility of a fil=
cher
and scamp. So the lower part =
of his
moral being began to cower; he glanced furtively at the company.
"Yes; I am sure I have put my own neck in
it," he muttered. "=
I must
devise a way to save it. I ha=
ve
it. We must seem to
quarrel." And rising, he=
closed
his book deliberately.
"Fool!" he said in a sharp voice. A bookless, shallow dabbler! So I treat you and your
reasonings!"
Whereupon, with a quick gesture, he threw the
dregs of his glass in the face of the jester. So suddenly and unexpectedly was it
done, the other sprang angrily from his seat and half drew his sword. A moment they stood thus, the fool=
with
his hand menacingly upon the hilt; the scamp-scholar continuing to confront=
him
with undiminished volubility.
"A smatterer! an ignoramus! a dunce!"=
; he
repeated in high-pitched tones to the amusement of the company.
"Make a ring for the two monks, my
masters," cried the man with the boar. "Then let each state his case=
with
bludgeon or dagger."
"With bludgeon or dagger!" echoed the
excited voice of the morio, whose appearance had undergone a
transformation. The indescrib=
able
vacancy with which he had listened to the minstrel was replaced by an expre=
ssion
of revolting malignity.
The jestress half-arose, her face once more wh=
ite,
her dark eyes fastened on the fool.
But the latter, realizing the purpose of the affront, and the actual
service the scamp-student had rendered him, unexpectedly thrust back his bl=
ade.
"I'll not fight a puny bookworm," he
said, and resumed his seat, although his cheek was flushed.
"You bear a brave sword, fool, for one so
loath to draw," sneered the master of the boar.
Disappointed at this tame outcome of an affair
which had so spirited a beginning, the company, with derisive scoffing and
muttered sarcasm, resumed their places; all save the morio, who stood glari=
ng
upon the jester.
"Stab! stab!" he muttered through his
dry lips, and at that moment the troubadour played a few chords on his
instrument. The passion faded=
from
the creature's face; quietly he turned and sought the chair nearest to the
minstrel.
"Sing, master," he said.
"Diable, thou art an insatiable
monster!" grumbled the troubadour.
"Insatiable," smilingly repeated the
strange being.
=
"If you went also, ma douce mi=
ette! The joys of heaven I'd forego=
To have you with me there bel=
ow,'--
Said Aucassin to
Nicolette."
softly sang the troubadour.
Over the gathering a marked constraint appeare=
d to
fall. More soberly the men sh=
ook
their dice; the scamp-student took up his book, but even Horace seemed not =
to
absorb his undivided attention; a mountebank attempted several tricks, but
failed to amuse his spectators. The
candles, burning low, began to drip, and the servant silently replaced them=
. Beneath lowering brows the master =
of the
boar moodily regarded the young girl, whose face seemed cold and disdainful=
in
the flickering light. The pla=
isant
addressed a remark to her, but she did not answer, and silently he watched =
the
shadow on the floor, of the chandelier swinging to and fro, like a waving
sword.
"Will you have something more, good
fool?" said the insinuating and unexpected voice of the host at the
plaisant's elbow.
"Nothing."
"You were right not to draw," contin=
ued
the boniface with a sharp look. "What could a jester do with the
blade? I'll warrant you do no=
t know
how to use it?"
"Nay," answered the fool; "I kn=
ow
how to use it not--and save my neck."
Mine host nodded approvingly. "Ha! a merry fellow," he
said. "Come; drink again=
. 'Twill make you sleep."
"I have better medicine than that,"
retorted the jester, and yawned.
"Ah, weariness. I'll warrant you'll rest like a
log," he added, as he moved away.
At that some one who had been listening laughe=
d,
but the fool did not look up. A
great clock began to strike with harsh clangor and Jacqueline suddenly
arose. At the same time the
minstrel, stretching his arms, strolled to the door and out into the open a=
ir.
"Good-night, mistress," said the har=
sh
voice of the master of the boar, as his glittering eyes dwelt upon her grac=
eful
figure.
The girl responded coldly, and, amid a hush fr=
om
the company, made her way to the stairs, which she slowly mounted, preceded=
by
the lad who had waited upon them, and followed by the jester.
"A craven fellow for so trim a maid,"
continued he of the boar, as they disappeared. "She has eyes like friar's
lanterns. What a decoy she'd =
make
for the lords in Paris!"
"Yes," assented the landlord, "a
pitfall to pill 'em and poll 'em."
At the end of the passage the guide of jestress
and fool paused before a door.
"Your room, mistress," he said. "And yonder is yours, Master =
Jester." Then placing the candle on a stand=
and
vouchsafing no further words, he shuffled off in the darkness, leaving the =
two
standing there.
"Lock your door this night, Jacqueline,&q=
uot;
whispered the fool.
"You submit over-easily to an affront,&qu=
ot;
was her scornful retort, turning upon the jester.
"Perhaps," he replied,
phlegmatically. "Yet for=
get
not the bolt."
"It were more protection than you are apt=
to
prove," she answered, and, quickly entering the room closed hard the d=
oor.
A moment he stood in indecision; then rapped
lightly.
"Jacqueline," he said, in a low voic=
e.
There was no answer.
"Jacqueline!"
The bolt shot sharply into place, fastening the
door. No other response would=
she
make, and the jester, after waiting in vain for her to speak, turned and ma=
de
his way to his own chamber, adjoining hers.
Weary as the young girl was, she did not retir=
e at
once, but going to the window, threw wide open the blinds. Bright shone the moon, and, leaning
forth, she gazed upon clearing and forest sleeping beneath the soft
glamour. A beautiful, yet des=
olate
scene, with not a living object visible--yes, one, and she suddenly drew ba=
ck,
for there, motionless in the full light, and gazing steadfastly toward her
room, stood a figure in whom she recognized the Spanish troubadour.
Surveying his room carefully in the dim light =
of a
candle, the fool discovered he stood in a small apartment, with a single
window, whose barren furnishings consisted of a narrow couch, a chair and a
massive wardrobe. Unlike the
chamber assigned to Jacqueline, the door was without key or bolt; a signifi=
cant
fact to the jester, in view of the warning he had received. Nor was it possible to move wardro=
be or
bed, the first being too heavy and the last being screwed to the floor, had=
the
occupant desired to barricade himself from the anticipated danger without.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> A number of suspicious stains enha=
nced
the gruesome character of the room, and as these appeared to lead to the
wardrobe, the jester carried his investigation to a more careful survey of =
that
imposing piece of furniture.
Opening the door, although he could not find the secret of the
mechanism, the fool concluded that the floor of this ponderous wooden
receptacle was a trap through which the body of the victim could be secretly
lowered.
This brief exploration of his surroundings
occupied but a few moments, and then, after blowing out the candle and heap=
ing
the clothes together on the bed into some resemblance of a human figure lyi=
ng
there, the jester drew his sword and softly crept down the passage toward t=
he stairs,
at the head of which he paused and listened. He could hear the voices and see t=
he
shadows of the men below, and, with beating heart, descended a few steps th=
at
he might catch what they were saying. Crouching against the wall, with bated
breath, he heard first the landlord's tones.
"Well, rogues, what say you to another sa=
ck
of wine?" asked the host, cheerily.
"It will serve--while we wait,"
ominously answered the master of the boar.
"Haven't we waited long enough?" sai=
d an
impatient voice.
"Tut! tut! young blood," growled
another, reprovingly. "W=
ould
you disturb him at his prayers?"
"The landlord is right," spoke up the
leader. "We have the nig=
ht before
us. Bring the wine."
In stentorian tones the host called the
serving-man, and soon from the clinking of cups, the clearing of throats, a=
nd
the exclamations of satisfaction, foully expressed, the listening jester kn=
ew
that the skin had been circulated and the tankards filled. One man even began to sing again an
equivocal song, but was stopped by a warning imprecation to which he
ill-naturedly responded with a half-defiant curse.
"Knaves! knaves!" cried the reproach=
ful
voice of the landlord. "=
Can you
not drink together like honest men?"
This mild expostulation of the host seemed not
without its effect, for the impending quarrel passed harmlessly away.
"Where, think you, he got the sword?"
asked one of the gathering, reverting to the enterprise in hand.
"Stole it, most likely," replied the
leader. "It is booty fro=
m the palace."
"And therefore is doubly fair spoils,&quo=
t;
laughed another.
"Remember, rogues," interrupted the
host, "one-third is my allotted portion. Else we fall out."
"Art so solicitous, thou corpulent
scrimp!" grumbled he of the boar. "Have you not always had the
hulking share? Pass the wine!=
"
"Foul names break no bones," laughed=
the
host. "You were always a=
churlish,
ungentle knave. There's the w=
ine,
an it's not better than your temper, beshrew me for the enemy of true
hospitality. But to show I am=
none
such, here's something to sup withal; prime head of calf. Bolt and swig, as=
ye
will."
The rattle of dishes and the play of forks
succeeded this good-natured suggestion.&nb=
sp;
It was truly evident mine host commanded the good will and the servi=
ces
of the band by appealing to their appetites. An esculent roast or pungent stew =
was
his cure for uprising or rebellion; a high-seasoned ragout or fricassee bec=
ame
a sovereign remedy against treachery or defection. He could do without them, for knav=
es
were plentiful, but they could not so easily dispense with this fat master =
of
the board who had a knack in turning his hand at marvelous and savory messe=
s,
for which he charged such full reckoning that his third of the spoils,
augmented by subsequent additions, was like to become all.
A wave of anger against this unwieldy hypocrite
and well-fed malefactor swept over the jester. The man's assumed heartiness, his =
manner
of joviality and good-fellowship, were only the mask of moral turpitude and
blackest purpose. But for the
lawless scholar, the fool would probably have retired to his bed with full
confidence in the probity and honesty of the greatest delinquent of them al=
l.
"What shall we do with the girl?" as=
ked
one of the outlaws, interrupting this trend of thought in the listener's mi=
nd.
"Serve her the same as the fool,"
answered the landlord, carelessly.
"But she's a handsome wench," retort=
ed
the leader, thoughtfully. "Straight as a poplar; eyes like a sloe. With the boar and the jade, I shou=
ld do
well, when I become tired resting here."
"If she's as easily tamed as the boar?&qu=
ot;
suggested the host, significantly.
"Devil take me, if her nails are as long =
as
his tusks," retorted the follow, with a coarse laugh.
"An I had a hostelry in town, she could b=
ait
the nobles thither," commented the host, thoughtfully.
"Give her to the scamp-student,"
remarked the fellow who had first spoken.
"Nay, since Nanette ran off with a street
singer and left me spouseless, I have made a vow of celibacy," hastily
answered the piping
voice of the lank scholar.
A series of loud guffaws greeted the
scamp-student's declaration, while the subsequent rough humor of the knaves
made the listener's cheek burn with indignation. Yet forced to listen he was, knowi=
ng
that the slightest movement on his part would quickly seal the fate of hims=
elf and
the young girl. But every fib=
er of
his being revoked against that ribald talk; he bit his lip hard, hearing her
name bandied about by miscreants and wretches of the lowest type, and even
welcomed a startling change in the discourse, occasioned by the leader.
"Enough, rogues. We must settle with the jester
first. Afterward, it will be =
time
enough to deal with the maid. Hast
done feeding and tippling yet, morio?"
"Yes, master," said the suspiciously
muffled voice of the imbecile.
"Here's the knife then. You shall have another tankard whe=
n you
come back."
"Another tankard!" muttered the
creature.
At these significant words, knowing that the
crucial moment had come, the jester retreated rapidly, and, making his way =
down
the passage, stood in a dark corner near his room. As of one accord the voices ceased
below; a heavy creaking announced the approach of the morio; nearer and nea=
rer,
first on the stairs, then in the upper corridor. From where he remained
concealed the fool dimly discerned the figure of the would-be assassin.
At the door of the jestress' room it paused. The fool lifted his blade; the form
passed on. Before the chamber=
of
the plaisant its movements became more stealthy; it bent and listened. Should the jester spring upon it
now? A strange loathing made =
him
hesitate, and, before he had time to carry his purpose into execution, the
creature, throwing aside further pretense of caution, swung back the door a=
nd launched
himself across the apartment. A
heavy blow, swiftly followed by another; afterward, the stillness of death.=
Every moment the jester expected an outcry; the
announcement of the fruitlessness of the attack, but the morio made no
sound. The silence became
oppressive; the plaisant felt almost irresistibly impelled toward that terr=
ible
chamber, when with heavy, lumbering step, the creature reappeared, traversed
the hall like a huge automaton and mechanically descended the stairs. Recovering from his surprise, the =
fool
again resumed his position commanding the scene below, and breathlessly awa=
ited
the sequel to the singular pantomime he had witnessed.
"Well, is it done?" asked the harsh
voice of the master of the boar.
"Yes; done!" was the submissive answ=
er.
"Good!&n=
bsp;
Now to get the sword."
"Not so fast," broke in the
landlord. "Do you kill, =
morio,
without drawing blood? Look a=
t his
dagger."
The leader took the blade, examined it, and th=
en
began to call down curses on the head of the imbecile monster. "Clean, save for a thread of
cotton," he cried angrily.
"You never went near him."
"Yes, yes, master!" replied the
creature, eagerly.
"Then, perhaps, you strangled him?"
suggested the man.
"No; stab! stab!" reiterated the mor=
io,
in an almost imploring tone, shrinking from the glances cast upon him.
"Bah!&nb=
sp;
You stabbed the bed, fool; not the man," roughly returned the o=
ther. "The rogue has guessed our pu=
rpose
and left the room," he continued, addressing the others. "But he's skulking somewhere.=
Well, knaves, here's a little cour=
sing
for us all. Up with you, mori=
o, and
find him. Perhaps, though, he=
may prefer
to come down." And the l=
eader
called out: "Give yourself up, rascal, or it will be the worse for
you."
To this paradoxical threat no answer was
returned. Standing in the sha=
dow at
the head of the stairs, the jester only gripped tighter the hilt of the cov=
eted
sword, while across his vision flashed the picture of the young girl, left
helpless, alone! What mercy w=
ould
they show? The coarse words of the master of the boar and the gibing, loose=
responses
of the company recurred to him, and, setting his jaw firmer, the plaisant
peered, with gleaming eyes, down into the semi-gloom.
=
"You
won't answer?" cried the leader, after a short interval. "Smell him out then, rogues.&=
quot;
Knife in hand, the others at his heels, the mo=
rio
slowly made his way up the stairs.
Goaded by the taunts of the outlaws, his face was distorted with
ferocity; through his lips came a fierce, sibilant breathing; in the dim li=
ght
his colossal figure and enormous head seemed in no wise human, but rather a
murderous phantasm. With head=
rolling
from side to side, stabbing in the air with his knife, he continued to
approach,--an object calculated to strike terror into any breast.
"Oh! oh!" murmured a voice behind the
jester, and, turning, he saw Jacqueline.&n=
bsp;
Disturbed by the tumult and the loud voices, the jestress had left h=
er
room to learn the cause of the unusual din, and now, with her dark hair a c=
loud
around her, stood gazing fearfully over the fool's shoulder.
At the sound of the young girl's voice, so nea=
r,
the plaisant's hand, which for the moment had been unsteady, became suddenly
steel. Almost impatiently he
awaited the coming of the morio; at last he drew near, but, as if instincti=
vely
realizing the presence of danger, paused, his arm ceasing to strike, but
remaining stationary in the air.
"Go on!" impatiently shouted those
behind him.
At the command the creature sprang forward
furiously, when the sword of the jester shot out; once, twice! From the morio's grip fell the dag=
ger;
over his face the lust for killing was replaced by a look of surprise; with=
a
single moan, he threw both arms on high, and, tottering like an oak, the
monster fell backward with a crash, carrying with him the rogues behind.
"I think my arm's put out!" he
said. "Is the creature
dead?" he added, viciously.
"Dead as a herring," answered the
landlord, bending over the motionless figure.
"Beshrew me, I thought the jester was a
craven," growled he of the boar.
"What does it mean?"
"That he saw the snare and spread
another," replied the host.
"Go back to your room, mistress,"
whispered the plaisant to the young girl, "and lock yourself in."=
"Nay; I'll not leave you," she
replied. "Do you think t=
hey
will return?" she added in a voice she strove to make firm.
"I am certain of it. Go, I beg you--to your window and =
call
out. It is a slender hope, bu=
t the
best we have. Fear not; I can=
hold
the stairs yet a while."
A moment she hesitated, then glided away. At the same time he of the boar gr=
asped
a sword in his left hand, and, with his right hanging useless, rushed up the
stairs.
"Oh, there you are, my nimble
wit-cracker!" he cried, as the jester stepped boldly out. "'Twas a pretty piece of fool=
ery
you played on the monster and us, but quip for quirk, my merry wag!" And, so speaking, he directed a vi=
olent
thrust which, had it taken effect, would, indeed, have made good the leader=
's
threat.
But the plaisant stepped aside, the blow grazed
his shoulder, while his own blade, by a rapid counter, passed through the
throat of his antagonist. Wit=
h a
shriek, the blood gushing from the wound, the master of the boar fell lifel=
ess
on the stairs, his sword clattering downward. At that gruesome sight, his fellows
paused irresolute, and, seeing their indecision, the jester rushed headlong
upon them, striking fiercely, when their hesitation turned into panic and t=
he
knaves fairly fled. Below, the
irate landlord stamped and fumed, cuffing and striking as he moved among th=
em
with threats and abuse.
"White-livered varlets! Pigeon-hearted rogues! Unmanned by a motley fool! A witling the lords beat with their
slippers! Because of a chance=
blow
against an imbecile, or a disabled man, you hesitate. A fig for them! What if they be dead? The spoil will be the greater for =
the
rest."
Thus exhorted, the knaves once more took heart=
and
gathered for the attack. Glav=
es
were provided for those in front, and the plaisant waited, grimly determine=
d,
yet liking little the aspect of those terrible weapons and feeling the end =
of
the unequal contest was not far distant, when a light hand was laid on his =
arm.
"Follow me quickly," said
Jacqueline. "We may yet
escape. Don't question me, but
come!" she went on hurriedly.
Impressed by her earnestness, the jester, afte=
r a
moment's hesitation, obeyed. =
She
led him to her room, closed and locked the door--but not before a scamperin=
g of
feet and sound of voices told them the rogues had gained the upper passage-=
-and
drew him hastily to the window.
"See," she said eagerly. "A ladder!"
"And at the foot of the ladder, our
horses!" he exclaimed, in surprise. "Who has done this?"
Her response was interrupted by a hand at their
door and a clamor without, followed by heavy blows.
"Quick, Jacqueline!" he cried, and
helped her to the long ladder, set, as it seemed, providentially against the
wall.
"Can you do it?" he asked, yet holdi=
ng
her hand. Her eyes gave him a=
nswer,
and he released her, watching her descend.
The door quivered beneath the general onslaugh=
t of
the now exultant outlaws, and, as a glave shattered the panel the jester th=
rew
himself over the casement. A
deafening hubbub ensued; the door suddenly gave way, and the band rushed in=
to
the room. At the same time th=
e plaisant
ran down the ladder and sprang to the ground at the young girl's side. From above came exclamations of wo=
nder
and amazement, mingled with invective.
"They're gone!" cried one.
"Here they are!" exclaimed another,
looking down from the window.
The jester at once seized the means of descent,
but not before the man who had discovered them was on the upper rounds; a q=
uick
effort on the fool's part, and ladder and rogue toppled over together. The enterprising knave lay motionl=
ess
where he fell.
"Vrai Dieu! He wanted to come down," said=
an
approving voice.
Turning, the jester beheld the Spanish troubad=
our,
who was composedly engaged in placing bundles of straw against the wall of =
the
inn.
"I don't think he'll bother you any
more," continued the minstrel in his deep tones. "If you'll ride down the road=
, I'll
join you in a moment."
So saying, he knelt before the combustible
accumulation he had been diligently heaping together and struck a spark whi=
ch,
seizing on the dry material, immediately kindled into a great flame.
"What are you doing, villain?" roared
the landlord from the window, discovering the forks of fire, already leaping
and crackling about the tavern.
"Only making a bonfire of a foul nest,&qu=
ot;
lightly answered the minstrel, standing back as though to admire his
handiwork. "Your vile ho=
stelry
burns well, my dissembling host."
"Hell-dog! varlet!" screamed the pro=
prietor,
overwhelmed with consternation.
"Is it thus you greet your guests?"
replied the troubadour, throwing another bundle of straw upon the already
formidable conflagration. "You were not wont to be so discourteous, my
prince of bonifaces."
But recovering from his temporary stupor, the
landlord, without reply, disappeared from the window.
"Now may we safely leave the flames to the
wind," commented the minstrel, as he sprang upon a small nag which had
been fastened to a shed near by.
"As we have burned the roof over our heads," he continued,
addressing the wondering jester and his companion, who had already mounted =
and
were waiting, "let us seek another hostelry."
Swiftly the trio rode forth from the tavern ya=
rd,
out into the moonlit road.
"Not so quickly, my friends," commen=
ted
the troubadour. "As I fa=
stened
the doors and blinds without, we may proceed leisurely, for it will be some
time before mine host and his friends can batter their way from the inn.
"Who are you, sir?" asked the fool.<= o:p>
The minstrel laughed, and answered in his natu=
ral
voice.
"Don't you know me, mon ami?" he sai=
d,
gaily. "What a jest this=
will be
at court? How it will amuse t=
he
king--"
"Caillette!" exclaimed the plaisant,
loudly. "Caillette!"=
;
"Himself!" laughed the minstrel. "Did I not tell you I should =
become
a Spanish troubadour?" T=
hen,
reaching out his hand, he added seriously: "Right pleased am I to meet
you. But how came you here?&q=
uot;
"I have fled from the keep of the old cas=
tle,
where I lay charged with heresy," answered the jester, returning the
hearty grip.
"The keep!" exclaimed Caillette in
surprise. "You are fortu=
nate
not to have been brought to trial," he added, thoughtfully. "Few get through that seine, =
and
his Holiness, the pope, I understand, has ordered the meshes made yet
smaller."
They had paused on the brow of a hill, command=
ing
the view of road and tavern. =
Dazed,
the young girl had listened to the greeting between the two men. This ragged, beard-begrown troubad=
our,
the graceful, elegant Caillette of Francis' court? It seemed incredible. At the same time, through her mind
passed the memory of the plaisant's reiterated exclamation in prison:
"Caillette--in Spain!"--words she had attributed to fever, not
imagining they had any foundation in fact.
But now this unexpected encounter abruptly
dispelled her first supposition and opened a new field for speculation. Certainly had he been on a mission=
of
some kind, somewhere, but what his errand she could not divine. A diplomat in tatters, serving a
fellow-jester. Fools had oft intruded themselves in great events ere this, =
but
not those who wore the motley; heretofore had the latter been content with =
the
posts of entertainers, leaving to others the more precarious offices of
intrigant.
But if she was surprised at Caillette's unexpe=
cted
presence and disguise, that counterfeit troubadour had been no less amazed =
to
see her, the joculatrix of the princess, in the mean garb of a wayside mini=
stralissa,
wandering over the country like one born to the nomadic existence. That she had a nature as free as a=
ir and
the spirit of a gipsy he well believed, but that she would forego the secur=
ity
of the royal household for the discomforts and dangers of a vagrant life he
could not reconcile to that other part of her character which he knew must
shrink from the actualities of the straggler's lot. He had watched her at the inn; how=
she
held herself; how she was a part of, and yet apart from, that migratory
company; and what he had seen had but added to his curiosity.
"Have you left the court, mistress?"=
he
now asked abruptly.
"Yes," she answered, curtly.
Caillette gazed at her and her eyes fell. Then put out with herself and him,=
she
looked up boldly.
"Why not?" she demanded.
"Why not, indeed?" he repeated, gent=
ly,
although obviously wondering.
The constraint that ensued between them was br=
oken
by a new aspect of the distant conflagration. Fanned by the breeze, the flames h=
ad ignited
the thatched roof of the hostelry and fiery forks shot up into the sky, cas=
ting
a fierce glow over the surrounding scene.&=
nbsp;
Through the glare, many birds, unceremoniously routed from their nes=
ts
beneath the eaves, flew distractedly.
Before the tavern, now burning on all sides, could be distinguished a
number of figures, frantically running hither and thither, while above the
crackling of the flames and the clamorous cries of the birds was heard the
voice of the proprietor, alternately pleading with the knaves to save the
tavern and execrating him who had applied the torch.
"Cap de Dieu! the landlord will snare no =
more
travelers," said Caillette.
"My horse had become road-worn and perforce I had tarried there
sufficient while to know the company and the host. When you walked in with this fair =
maid,
I could hardly believe my eyes.
'Twas a nice trap, and the landlord an unctuous fellow for a
villain. Assured that you cou=
ld not
go out as you came, I e'en prepared a less conventional means of exit."=
;
He had scarcely finished this explanation when,
with a shower of sparks and a mighty crash, the heavy roof fell. A lambent flame burst from the fur=
nace;
grew brighter, until the clouds became rose-tinted; a glory as brilliant as
short-lived, for soon the blaze subsided, the glow swiftly faded, and the s=
ky
again darkened.
"It is over," murmured Caillette; an=
d,
as they touched their horses, leaving the smoldering ruins behind them, he
added: "But how came the scamp-student to serve you? I was watching closely, and listen=
ing, too;
so caught how 'twas done."
"I spared his life once," answered t=
he
jester.
"And he remembered? 'Tis passing strange from such a
rogue. A clever device, to wa=
rn you
in Latin that his friends intended to kill one or both of you for the jewel=
ed
sword."
"Why," spoke up the young girl, her
attention sharply arrested, "was it not a mere discussion of some
kind? And--the quarrel?"=
"A pretense on the rogue's part to avert =
the suspicion
of the master of the boar. I =
could
but marvel"--to the jester--"at your forbearance."
"I fear me Jacqueline had the right to a =
poor
opinion of her squire," replied the duke's fool. "Nor do I blame her," he
laughed, "in esteeming a stout bolt more protection than a craven
blade."
But the girl did not answer. Through her brain flashed the reco=
llection
of her cold disdain; her scornful words; her abrupt dismissal of the jester=
at
her door. Weighing what she h=
ad
said and done with what he had not said and done, she turned to him quickly=
, impulsively. Through the semi-darkness she saw =
the
smile around his mouth and the quizzical look with which he was regarding h=
er. Whereupon
her courage failed. She bit h=
er lip
and remained silent. They had now passed the brow of the hill; on each side=
of
the highway the forests parted wider and wider, and the thoroughfare was ba=
thed
in a white light.
As they rode along on this clearly illumined
highway, Caillette glanced interrogatively at the plaisant. The outcome of his journey--should=
he
speak now? Or later--when the=
y were
alone? Heretofore neither had=
made
reference to it; Caillette, perhaps, because his mind had been surprised in=
to
another train of thought by this unexpected encounter; the duke's fool beca=
use
the result of the journey was no longer momentous. Since the other had left, conditio=
ns
were different. The good-natu=
red
scoffing and warnings of his fellow-jester had proved not unwarranted.
The answer of the duke's fool to his companion=
's
glance was a direct inquiry.
"You found the emperor?" he said.
"Yes; and presented your message with some
misgiving."
"And did he treat it with the scant
consideration you expected?"
"On the contrary. His Majesty read it not once, but =
twice,
and changed color."
"And then?"
The narrator paused and furtively surveyed the
jestress. Her face was pale,
emotionless; as they sped on, she seemed riding through no volition of her =
own,
the while she was vaguely conscious of the dialogue of her companions.
"Whatever magic your letter contained,&qu=
ot;
resumed Caillette, "it seemed convincing to Charles. 'My brother Francis must be strang=
ely
credulous to be so cozened by an impostor,' quoth he, with a gleam of humor=
in his
gaze."
"Impostor!" It was the young girl who spoke,
interrupting, in her surprise, the troubadour's story.
"You did not know, mistress?" said
Caillette.
"No," she answered, and listened the
closer.
"When I left, two messages the emperor ga=
ve
me," went on the other; "one for the king, the other for you.&quo=
t; And taking from his doublet a docu=
ment,
weighted with a ponderous disk, the speaker handed it to the duke's fool, w=
ho
silently thrust it in his breast.
"Moreover, unexpectedly, but as good fortune would have it, his
Majesty was even then completing preparations for a journey through France =
to
the Netherlands, owing to unlooked-for troubles in that part of his domains,
and had already despatched his envoys to the king. Charles assured me that he would s=
till
further hasten his intended visit to the Low Countries and come at once.
"It has occurred," said the jester.<= o:p>
The other uttered a quick exclamation. "Then have I failed in my err=
and,"
he muttered, blankly. "B=
ut the
king--had he no suspicion?"
"It was through the Countess d'Etampes the
monarch was led to change the time for the festivities," spoke up
Jacqueline, involuntarily.
"She!" exclaimed the poet, with a
gesture of half-aversion. For=
some time
they went on without further words; then suddenly Caillette drew rein.
"This news makes it the more necessary I
should hasten to the king," he said.&=
nbsp;
"The emperor's message--Francis should receive it at once. Here,
therefore, must I leave you. =
Or,
why do you not return with me?"--addressing the jester. "The letter from Charles will
exonerate you and Francis will reward you in proportion to the injuries you
have suffered. What say you,
mistress?"
"That I will never go back," she
answered, briefly, and looked away.
Caillette's perplexity was relieved by the
plaisant. "Farewell, if =
you
must leave," said the latter.
"We meet again, I trust."
"The fates willing," returned the
poet. "Farewell, and good
fortune go with you both." And
wheeling abruptly, he rode slowly back.&nb=
sp;
The jester and the girl watched him disappear over the road they had
come.
"A true friend," said the plaisant, =
as
Caillette vanished in the gloom.
"You regret not returning with him,
perhaps?" she observed quickly. "Honors and offices of preferment=
are
not plentiful."
"I want none of them from Francis," =
he
returned, as they started slowly on their way.
The road before them descending gradually, pas=
sed
through a gulch, where the darkness was greater, and such light as sifted
through the larch and poplar trees rested in variable spots on the earth. Overhead the somber obscurity appe=
ared
touched with a veil of shimmer or sheen like diamond dust floating through =
the
mask of night. Their horses b=
ut crept
along; the girl bent forward wearily; heretofore the excitement and danger =
had
sustained her, but now the reaction from all she had endured bore down upon
her. She thought of calling t=
o the
fool; of craving the rest she so needed; but a feeling of pride, or constra=
int,
held her silent. Before her t=
he
shadows danced illusively; the film of brightness changed and shifted; then=
all
glimmering and partial shade were swallowed up in a black chasm.
Riding near, the jester observed her form sway
from side to side, and spurred forward.&nb=
sp;
In a moment he had clasped her waist, then lifted her from the saddle
and held her before him.
"Jacqueline!" he cried.
She offered no resistance; her head remained motionless on his breast. Sedulously he bent over her; the warm breath reassured him; tired nature had simply succumbed. Irresolute he paused, little likin= g the sequestered gulch for a resting-place; divining the prickly thicket and almost impenetr= able brushwood that lined the road. An unhealthy miasma seemed to ascend from below and clog the air; through the tangle of forest, phosphorus gleamed and glowworms flitted here and there.<= o:p>
Gathering the young form gently to him, the je=
ster
rode slowly on, and the horse of his companion followed. So he went, he knew not how long; =
listening
to her breathing that came, full and deep; half-fearing, half-wondering at =
that
relaxation. For the first tim=
e he
forgot about the emperor and his purpose; the free baron and the desires of
sweet avengement. He thought =
only
of her he held; how courageous yet alone she was in the world; how she had
planned the service which won her the right to his protection; her flight f=
rom
Francis--but where? To whom c=
ould
she go? To whom could she
turn? Unconscious she lay in =
his
arms in that deep sleep, or heavy inertia following exhaustion, her pale fa=
ce
against his shoulder; and as the young plaisant bent over her his heart
thrilled with protecting tenderness.
"Why, what other maid," he thought,
"would ride on until she dropped? Would meet discomfort at every turn =
with
a jest or a merry stave?"
And, but for him, whom else had she? This young girl, had she not becom=
e his
burden of responsibility; his moral obligation? For the first time he seemed to re=
alize
how the fine tendrils of her nature had touched his; touched and clung, eve=
r so
gently but fast. Her fine sco=
rn for
dissimulation; her answering integrity; the true adjustment of her
instinct--all had been revealed to him under the test of untoward
circumstances.
He saw her, too, secretly and silently cherish=
ing
a new faith in her bosom, amid a throng, lax and infirm of purpose, and
wonderment gave way to another emotion, as his mind leaped from that past, =
with
its covert, inner life, to the untrammeled moment when she had thrown off t=
he
mask in the solitude of the forest.
Had some deeper chord of his nature been struck then? Their aspirations of a kindred hop=
e had mingled
in the majestic psalm; a larger harmony, remote from roundelay, or sparkling
cadenza, that drew him to this Calvin maid. A solemn earnestness fell upon his
spirits; the starlight bathed his brow, and he found the mystery of the nig=
ht
and nature inexplicably beautiful.
Afar the bell of some wanderer from the herd t=
inkled
drowsily, arousing him from his reverie.&n=
bsp;
The horses were ascending; the road emerged into a plain, set with
bracken and gorse, with here and there a single tree, whose inclining trunk
told of storms braved for many seasons.&nb=
sp;
Near the highway, in the shadow of a poplar, stood a shepherd's hut,
apparently deserted and isolated from human kind. The fool reined the horse, which f=
or
some time had been moving painfully, and at that abrupt cessation of motion=
the
jestress looked up with a start.
Meeting his eyes, at first she did not withdraw
her own; questioningly, her bewildered gaze encountered his; then, with a q=
uick
movement, she released herself from his arm and sprang to the ground. He, too, immediately dismounted. She felt very wide-awake now, as t=
hough
the sudden consciousness of that encircling grasp, or something in his glan=
ce
before she slipped from him, had startled away the torpor of somnolence.
"You fainted, or fell asleep, mistress,&q=
uot;
he said, quietly.
"Yes--I remember--in the gorge."
"It was impossible to stop there, so--I r=
ode
on. But here, in this shepher=
d's
hut, we may find shelter."
And turning the horses, he would have led them=
to
the door, but the animals held back; then stood stock-still. Striding to the hut, the jester st=
epped in,
but quickly sprang to one side, and as he did so some creature shot out of =
the
door and disappeared in the gloom.
"A wolf!" exclaimed the plaisant.
Entering the hut once more, he struck a
light. In a corner lay furze =
and
firewood, and from this store he drew, heaping the combustible material on =
the
hearth, until a cheering blaze fairly illumined the worn and dilapidated
interior. Near the fireplace =
were a
pot and kettle, whose rusted appearance bespoke long disuse; but a trencher=
and
porridge spoon on a stool near by seemed waiting the coming of the master.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> A couch of straw had been the lone=
ly
shepherd's bed--and later the lodgment of his enemy, the wolf. Above it, on the wall, hung a small
crucifix of wood. For the fug=
itives
this mean abode appeared no indifferent shelter, and it was with satisfacti=
on
the jester arranged a couch for the girl, before the fire, a rude pallet, y=
et--
"Here you may rest, Jacqueline, without f=
ear
of being disturbed again this night," he said.
She sank wearily upon the straw; then gave him=
her
hand gratefully. Her face looked rosy in the reflection from the hearth; a
comforting sense of warmth crept over her as she lay in front of the blaze;=
her
eyes were languorous with the luxury of the heat after a chilling ride. Dra=
wing
the cloak to her chin, she smiled faintly.=
Was it at his solicitude? He
noticed how her hair swept from the saddle pillowing her head, to the earth;
and, sitting there on the stool, wondering, perhaps, at its abundance, or
half-dreaming, he forgot he yet held her hand. Gently she withdrew it, and he sta=
rted;
then, realizing how he had been staring at her, with somewhat vacant gaze,
perhaps, but fixedly, he made a motion to rise, when her voice detained him=
.
"Why did you not tell me it was not a dis=
cussion
with the scamp-student?" she asked.&n=
bsp;
"Why did you let me imagine that you--" Her eyes said the
rest. "You should not ha=
ve
permitted me to--to think it," she reiterated.
He was silent. She closed her eyes; but in a mome=
nt her
lashes uplifted. Her glance f=
lashed
once more upon him.
"And I should not have thought it," =
she
said.
"Jacqueline!" he cried, starting up.=
She did not answer; indeed, seemed sleeping; h=
er
face turned from him.
Through the open doorway a streak of red in the
east heralded the coming glory of the morn. "Peep, peep," twittered =
a bird
on the roof of the hovel. Fro=
m the
poplar it was answered by a more melodious phrase, a song of welcome to the
radiant dawn. A moment the je=
ster listened,
his head raised to the growing splendor of the heavens, then threw himself =
on
the earthen floor of the hut and was at once overcome with sleep.
The slanting rays of the sinking sun shot athw=
art
the valley, glanced from the tile roofs of the homes of the peasantry, and
illumined the lofty towers of a great manorial château. To the rider, approaching by the r=
oad
that crossed the smiling pasture and meadow lands, the edifice set on a
mount--another of Francis' transformations from the gloomy fortress home--a=
ppeared
regal and splendid, compared with the humbler houses of the people lying
prostrate before it. Viewed f=
rom
afar, the town seemed to abase itself in the presence of the architectural =
preëminence
of that monarch of buildings. Even
the sun, when it withdrew its rays from the miscellaneous rabble of shops a=
nd
dwellings, yet lingered proudly upon the noble structure above, caressing i=
ts imposing
and august outlines and surrounding it with the glamour of the afterglow, w=
hen
the sun sank to rest.
Into the little town, at the foot of the big
house, rode shortly before nightfall the jester and his companion. During the day the young girl had =
seemed
diffident and constrained; she who had been all vivacity and life, on a sud=
den
kept silence, or when she did speak, her tongue had lost its sharpness. The weapons of her office, bright
sarcasm and irony, or laughing persiflage, were sheathed; her fine features
were thoughtful; her dark eyes introspective. In the dazzling sunshine, the memo=
ry of
their ride through the gorge; the awakening at the shepherd's hut; somethin=
g in
his look then, something in his accents later, when he spoke her name while=
she
professed to sleep--seemed, perhaps, unreal, dream-like.
His first greeting that morning had been a swi=
ft,
almost questioning, glance, before which she had looked away. In her face was the freshness of d=
awn;
the grace of spring-tide. Ove=
rhead
sang a lark; at their feet a brook whispered; around them solitude, vast,
infinite. He spoke and she
answered; her reserve became infectious; they ate their oaten cakes and dra=
nk
their wine, each strongly conscious of the presence of the other. Then he rose, saddled their horses=
, and assisted
her to mount. She appeared
over-anxious to leave the shepherd's hut; the jester, on the other hand, ca=
st a
backward glance at the poplar, the hovel, the brook. A crisp, clear caroling of birds f=
ollowed
them as they turned from the lonely spot.
So they rode, pausing betimes to rest, and even
then she had little to say, save once when they stopped at a rustic bridge
which spanned a stream. Both =
were
silent, regarding the horses splashing in the water and clouding its clear
depths with the yellow mud from its bed.&n=
bsp;
From the cool shadows beneath the planks where she was standing, tin=
y fish,
disturbed by this unwonted invasion, shot forth like darts and vanished into
the opaque patches. Half-drea=
mily
watching this exodus of flashing life from covert nook and hole, she said
unexpectedly:
"Who is it that has wedded the
princess?"
For a moment he did not answer; then briefly
related the story.
"And why did you not tell me this
before?" she asked when he had finished.
"Would you have credited me--then?" =
he
replied, with a smile.
Quickly she looked at him. Was there that in her eyes which t=
o him robbed
memory of its sting? At their=
feet
the water leaped and laughed; curled around the stones, and ran on with dan=
cing
bubbles. Perhaps he returned her glance too readily; perhaps the recollecti=
on
of the ride the night before recurred over-vividly to her, for she gazed su=
ddenly
away, and he wondered in what direction her thoughts tended, when she said =
with
some reserve:
"Shall we go on?"
They had not long left the brook and the bridg=
e,
when from afar they caught sight of the regal château and the cluster=
ing
progeny of red-roofed houses at its base.&=
nbsp;
At once they drew rein.
"Shall we enter the town, or avoid it by
riding over the mead?" said the plaisant.
"What danger would there be in going
on?" she asked. "Wh=
om
might we meet?"
Thoughtfully he regarded the shining towers of=
the
royal residence. "No one, I think," he at length replied, and they
went on.
Around the town ran a great wall, with
watch-towers and a deep moat, but no person questioned their right to the
freedom of the place; a sleepy soldier at the gate merely glancing
indifferently at them as they passed beneath the heavy archway. Gabled houses, with a tendency to
incline from the perpendicular, overlooked the winding street; dull, round
panes of glass stared at them, fraught with mystery and the possibility of
spying eyes behind; but the thoroughfare in that vicinity appeared deserted,
save for an old woman seated in a doorway. Before this grandam, whose
lack-luster eyes were fastened steadfastly before her, the fool paused and
asked the direction of the inn.
"Follow your nose, if nature gave you a
straight one," cried a jeering voice from the other side of the
thoroughfare. "If it be
crooked, a blind man and a dog were a better guide."
The speaker, a squat, misshapen figure, had
emerged from a passage turning into the street, and now stood, twirling a
fool's head on a stick and gazing impudently at the new-comers. The crone whom the plaisant had
addressed remained motionless as a statue.
"Ha! ha!" laughed the oddity who had
volunteered this malapert response to the jester's inquiry, "yonder
sign-post"--pointing to the aged dame--"has lost its fingers--or
rather its ears. Better trust=
to
your nose."
"Triboulet!" exclaimed Jacqueline.
"Is it you, lady-bird?" said the sur=
prised
dwarf, recognizing in turn the maid.
"And with the plaisant," staring hard at the fool. Then a cunning look gradually repl=
aced
the wonder depicted on his features. "You are fleeing from the court; =
I,
toward it," he remarked, jocosely.
"What mean you, fool?" demanded the
horseman, sternly.
"That I have run away from the duke,
fool," answered the hunchback. "The foreign lord dared to beat
me--Triboulet--who has only been beaten by the king. Sooner or later must I have fled, =
in any
event, for what is Triboulet without the court; or the court, without
Triboulet?" his indignation merging into arrogant vainglory.
"When did you leave the--duke?" asked
the other, slowly.
"Several days ago," replied the dwar=
f,
gazing narrowly at his questioner.
"Down the road. He
should be far away by this time."
Suspiciously the duke's jester regarded the
hunchback and then glanced dubiously toward the gate through which they had
entered the town. He had
experienced Triboulet's duplicity and malice, yet in this instance was disp=
osed
to give credence to his story, because he doubted not that Louis of Hochfels
would make all haste out of Francis' kingdom. Nor did it appear unreasonable that
Triboulet should pine for the excitement of his former life; the pleasures =
and
gaiety which prevailed at Fools' hall.&nbs=
p;
If the hunchback's information were true, they need now have little =
fear
of overtaking the free baron and his following, as not far beyond the
château-town the main road broke into two parts, the one continuing
southward and the other branching off to the east.
While the horseman was thus reflecting, Tribou=
let,
like an imp, began to dance before them, slapping his crooked knees with his
enormous hands.
"A good joke, my master and mistress in
motley," he cried. "=
;The king
was weak enough to exchange his dwarf for a demoiselle; the latter has fled;
the monarch has neither one nor the other; therefore is he, himself, the
fool. And thou, mistress, art=
also
worthy of the madcap bells," he added, his distorted face upturned to =
the
jestress.
"How so?" she asked, not concealing =
the
repugnance he inspired.
"Because you prefer a fool's cap to a kin=
g's
crown," he answered, looking significantly at her companion. "Wherein you but followed the=
royal
preference for head-coverings. Ho!
ho! I saw which way the wind =
blew;
how the monarch's eyes kindled when they rested on you; how the wings of Ma=
dame
d'Etampes's coif fluttered like an angry butterfly. Know you what was whisp=
ered
at court? The reason the coun=
tess
pleaded for an earlier marriage for the duke? That the princess might leave the
sooner--and take the jestress, her maid, with her. But the king met her manoeuver with
another. He granted the favor=
ite's
request--but kept the jestress."
"Silence, rogue!" commanded the duke=
's
fool, wheeling his horse toward the dwarf.
"And then for her to turn from a throne-r=
oom
to a dungeon," went on Triboulet, satirically, as he retreated. "As Brusquet wrote; 'twas:
"'Morbleu! A merry
monarch and a jestress fair; A jestress fair, I ween!'--&q=
uot;
=
But
ere the hunchback could finish this scurrilous doggerel of the court, over
which, doubtless, many loose witlings had laughed, the girl's companion pla=
ced
his hand on his sword and started toward the dwarf. The words died on Triboulet's lips;
hastily he dodged into a narrow space between two houses, where he was safe
from pursuit. Jacqueline's face had become flushed; her lips were compresse=
d;
the countenance of the duke's plaisant seemed paler than its wont.
"Little monster!" he muttered.
But the hunchback, in his retreat, was now
regarding neither the horseman nor the young girl. His glittering eyes, as if fascina=
ted, rested
on the weapon of the plaisant.
"What a fine blade you've got there!"=
; he
said curiously. "Much be=
tter than
a wooden sword. Jeweled, too,=
by
the holy bagpipe! And a coat =
of arms!"--more
excitedly--"yes, the coat of arms of the great Constable of Dubrois. As proud a sword as that of the
king. Where did you get it?&q=
uot; And in his sudden interest, the dw=
arf
half-ventured from his place of refuge.
"Answer him not!" said the girl,
hastily.
"Was it you, mistress, gave it him?"=
he
asked, with a sudden, sharp look.
Her contemptuous gaze was her only reply.
"By the dust of kings, when last I saw it,
the haughty constable himself it was who wore it," continued
Triboulet. "Aye, when he
defied Francis to his face. I=
can
see him now, a rich surcoat over his gilded armor; the queen-mother, an amo=
rous
Dulcinea, gazing at him, with all her soul in her eyes; the brilliant compa=
ny
startled; even the king overawed.
'Twas I broke the spell, while the monarch and the court were silent,
not daring to speak."
"You!" From the young woman's eyes flashe=
d a
flame of deepest hatred.
The hunchback shrank back; then laughed. "I, Triboulet!" he boast=
ed. "'Ha!'
said I, 'he's greater than the king!' whereupon Francis frowned, started, a=
nd
answered the constable, refusing his claim. Not long thereafter the constable =
died
in Spain, and I completed the jest. 'So,' said I, 'he is less than a man.'<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> And the king, who remembered, laug=
hed."
"Let us go," said the jestress, very
white.
Silently the plaisant obeyed, and Triboulet on=
ce
more ventured forth. "Momus go with you!" he called out after
them. And then:
"'Morbleu! A merry
monarch and a jestress fair;'"
=
More
quickly they rode on. Furtive=
ly,
with suppressed rage in his heart, the duke's fool regarded his companion.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Her face was cold and set, and as =
his
glance rested on its pale, pure outline, beneath his breath he cursed Brusq=
uet,
Triboulet and all their kind. He
understood now--too well--the secret of her flight. What he had heretofore been fairly
assured of was unmistakably confirmed.&nbs=
p;
The sight of the tavern which they came suddenly upon and the appear=
ance
of the innkeeper interrupted this dark trend of thought, and, springing from
his horse, the jester helped the girl to dismount.
The house, being situated in the immediate
proximity of the grand château, received a certain patronage from nob=
le
lords and ladies. This trade had given the proprietor such an opinion of his
hostelry that common folk were not wont to be overwhelmed with welcome. In the present instance the man sh=
owed a
disposition to scrutinize too closely the modest attire of the new-comers a=
nd
the plain housings of their chargers, when the curt voice of the jester
recalled him sharply from this forward occupation.
With a shade less of disrespect, the proprietor
bade them follow him; rooms were given them, and, in the larger of the two
chambers, the plaisant, desiring to avoid the publicity of the dining and
tap-room, ordered their supper to be served.
During the repast the girl scarcely spoke; the
capon she hardly touched; the claret she merely sipped. Once when she held the glass to her
lips, he noticed her hand trembled just a little, and then, when she set do=
wn
the goblet, how it closed, almost fiercely. Beneath her eyes shadows seemed to
gather; above them her glance shone ominously.
"Oh," she said at length, as though
giving utterance to some thought, which, pent-up, she could no longer contr=
ol;
"the irony; the tragedy of it!"
"What, Jacqueline?" he asked, gently,
although he felt the blood surging in his head.
"'Morbleu! A merry
monarch'--"
she began, and broke off abruptly, rising to h=
er
feet, with a gesture of aversion, and moving restlessly across the room.
"What has gone before, Jacqueline?"<= o:p>
"Nothing," she answered;
"nothing."
For some time he sat with his sword across his
knees, thinking deeply. She went to the window and looked out. When she spoke again her voice had
regained its self-command.
"A dark night," she said, mechanical=
ly.
"Jacqueline," he asked, glancing up =
from
the blade, "why in the crypt that day we escaped did you pause at that
monument?"
Quickly she turned, gazing at him from the
half-darkness in which she stood.
"Did you see to whom the monument was
erected?" she asked in a low voice.
"To the wife of the constable. But what was Anne, Duchess of Dubr=
ois, to
you?"
"She was the last lady of the castle,&quo=
t;
said the girl softly.
Again he surveyed the jeweled emblem on the sw=
ord,
mocking reminder of a glory gone beyond recall.
"And how was it, mistress, the castle was
confiscated by the king?" he continued, after a pause.
"Shall I tell you the story?" she as=
ked,
her voice hardening.
"If you will," he answered.
"Triboulet's description of the scene whe=
re
the constable braved the king, insisting on his rights, was true," she
observed, proudly.
"But why had the noble wearer of this swo=
rd
been deprived of his feudality and tenure?"
"Because he was strong and great, and the
king feared him; because he was noble and handsome, and the queen-regent lo=
ved
him. It was not her hand only,
Louise of Savoy, Francis' mother, offered, but--the throne."
"The throne!" said the wondering foo=
l.
Quickly she crossed the room and leaned upon t=
he
table. In the glimmer of the
candles her face was soft and tender.
He thought he had never seen a sweeter or more womanly expression.
"But he refused it," she continued,
"for he loved only the memory of his wife, Lady Anne. She, a perfect being. The other--what?"
On her features shone a fine contempt.
"Then followed the endless persecution and
spite of a woman scorned," she continued, rapidly. "One by one, his honors were
wrested from him. He who had borne the flag triumphantly through Italy was
deprived of the government of Milan and replaced by a brother of Madame de =
Châteaubriant,
then favorite of the king. His
castle, lands, were confiscated, until, driven to despair, he fled and alli=
ed
himself with the emperor.
'Traitor,' they called him.
He, a Bayard."
A moment she stood, an exalted look on her
features; tall, erect; then stepped toward him and took the sword. With a bright and radiant glance s=
he
surveyed it; pressed the hilt to her lips, and with both hands held it to h=
er
bosom. As if fascinated, the =
fool
watched her. Her countenance was upturned; a moment, and it fell; a dark sh=
adow
crossed it; beneath her lashes her eyes were like night.
"But he failed because Charles, the emper=
or,
failed him," she said, almost mechanically, "and broken in spirit,
met his death miserably in exile.
Yet his cause was just; his memory is dearer than that of a conquero=
r. She, the queen-mother, is dead; God
alone may deal with her."
More composed, she resumed her place in the ch=
air
on the other side of the table, the sword across her arm.
"And how came you, mistress," he ask=
ed,
regarding her closely, "in the pleasure palace built by Francis?"=
"When the castle was taken, all who had n=
ot
fled were a gamekeeper and his little girl--myself. The
latter"--ironically--"pleased some of the court ladies. They commended her wit, and gradua=
lly
was she advanced to the high position she occupied when you arrived," =
with
a strange glance across the board at her listener.
"And the gamekeeper--your father--is
dead?"
"Long since."
"The constable had no children?"
"Yes; a girl who, it is believed, died wi=
th
him in Spain."
The entrance of the servant to remove the dish=
es
interrupted their further conversation.&nb=
sp;
As the door opened, from below came the voices of new-comers, the
impatient call of tipplers for ale, the rattle of dishes in the kitchen.
"What a commentary on the mockery of fate
that the sword of such a man, so illustrious, so unfortunate, should be
intrusted to a fool!"
"Why," she said, looking at him, her
arms on the table, "you drew it bravely, and--once--more bravely--kept=
it
sheathed."
His face flushed. She half smiled; then placed the b=
lade
on the board before him.
"There it is."
Above the sword he reached over, as if to place
his hand on hers, but she quickly rose.&nb=
sp;
Absently he returned the weapon to his girdle. She took a step or two from him,
nervously; lifted her hand to her brow and breathed deeply.
"How tired I feel!" she said.
Immediately he got up. "You are worn out from the
journey," he observed, quickly.
But he knew it was not the journey that had mo=
st
affected her.
"I will leave you," he went on. "Have you everything you
need?"
"Everything," she answered carelessl=
y.
He walked to the door. The light was on his face; hers re=
mained
shaded.
"Good-night," she said.
"Good-night, Jacqueline, Duchess of
Dubrois," he answered, and, turning, disappeared down the corridor.
From one of the watch-towers of the town rang =
the
clear note of a trumpet, a tribute of melody, occasioned by the awakening in
the east. As the last clarion tones reëchoed over the sleeping village=
, a
crimson rim appeared above the horizon and soon the entire wheel of the cha=
riot
of the sun-god rolled up out of the illimitable abyss and began its daily r=
ace
across the sky. The stolid bu=
gler
yawned, tucked his trumpet under his arm, and, having perfunctorily perform=
ed
the duties of his office, tramped downward with more alacrity than he had
toiled upward.
About the same time the sleepy guard at the to=
wn
gate was relieved by an equally drowsy-appearing trooper; here and there
windows were flung open, and around the well in the small public square the
maids began to congregate. In=
the
tap-room of the tavern the landlord moved about, setting to rights the tabl=
es
and chairs, or sprinkling fresh sand on the floor. The place had a stale, close odor,=
as
though not long since vacated by an inabstinent company, a supposition furt=
her
borne out by the disorder of the furniture, and the evidence the gathering =
had
not been over-nice about spilling the contents of their toss-pots. The host had but opened the front =
door,
permitting the fresh, invigorating air from without to enter, when the duke=
's
plaisant, his cloak over his arm, descended the stairs, and, addressing the
landlord, asked when he and his companion could be provided with breakfast.=
"Breakfast!" grumbled the
proprietor. "The maids a=
re
hardly up and the fires must yet be started. It will be an hour or more before =
you
can be served."
The jester appeared somewhat dissatisfied, but contented himself with requesting the other to set about the meal at once.<= o:p>
"You ride forth early," answered the
man, in an aggrieved tone.
The plaisant made no reply as he strode to the
door and looked out; noted sundry signs of awakening life down the narrow
street, and then returned to the tap-room.
"You had a noisy company here last night,
landlord?" he vouchsafed, glancing around the room and recalling the
laughter and shouts he had heard below until a late hour.
"Noisy company!" retorted the
innkeeper. "A goodly com=
pany
that ate and drank freely.
Distinguished company that paid freely. The king's own guards who are acti=
ng as
escort to Robert, the Duke of Friedwald, and his bride, the princess. Noisy company, forsooth."
The young man started. "The king's guards!" he
said. "What are they doi=
ng
here?"
The other vigorously rubbed the top of a table
with a damp cloth. "Acting as escort to the duke, as I told you,"=
he
replied.
"The duke is here, also?"
"Yes; at the château. The princess had become weary of t=
ravel;
besides, had sprained her ankle, I heard, and would have it the cavalcade
should tarry a few days. They=
e'en
stopped at my door," he went on ostentatiously, "and called for a
glass of wine for the princess.
'Tis true she took it with a frown, but the hardships of journeying =
do
not agree with grand folks."
These last words the jester, absorbed in thoug=
ht,
did not hear. With his back t=
o the
man, he stood gazing through the high window, apparently across the
street. But between the two h=
ouses
on the other side of the thoroughfare was a considerable open space, and
through this, far away, on the mount, could be seen the château. The sunlight shone bright on turre=
t and
spire; its walls were white and glistening; its outlines, graceful and airy=
as
a fabric of imagination.
"And yet it was a handsome cavalcade,&quo=
t;
continued the proprietor, his predilection for pomp overcoming his
churlishness. "The princ=
ess on
a steed with velvet housings, set with precious stones. Her ladies attired in eastern
silks. Behind the men of arms;
Francis' troops in rich armor; the duke's soldiers more simply arrayed. At the head of the procession
rode--"
"Have the horses brought out at once.&quo=
t;
Thus brusquely interrupted, the innkeeper star=
ed
blankly at his guest, who had left the window and now stood in the center of
the room confronting him. &qu=
ot;And
the breakfast?" asked the man.
"I have changed my mind and do not want
it," was the curt response.
The host shrugged his shoulders disagreeably, =
as
the plaisant turned and ascended the stairs. "Unprofitable travelers,"
muttered the landlord, following with his gaze the retreating figure.
Hastily making his way to the room of the young
girl, the jester knocked on the door.
"Are you awake, Jacqueline?"
"Yes," answered a voice within.
"We must ride forth as soon as possible.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The duke is at the château.&=
quot;
"At the château!" she exclaime=
d in
surprise. Then after a pause:
"And Triboulet saw us. H=
e will
tell that you are here. I wil=
l come
down at once. Wait," she
added, as an afterthought seized her.
He heard her step to the window. "I think the gates of the
château are open," she said.&nb=
sp;
"I am not sure; it is so far."
"Do you see any one on the road leading
down?"
"No," came the answer.
"Nor could I. But perhaps they have already
passed."
Again the jester returned to the tap-room, whe=
re
he found the landlord polishing the pewter tankards.
"The horses?" said the fool sharply.=
"The stable boy will bring them to the
door," was the response, and the innkeeper held a pot in the air and
leisurely surveyed the shining surface.
"The reckoning?"
Deliberately the man replaced the receptacle on
the table, and, pressing his thumbs together, began slowly to calculate:
"Bottle of wine, ten sous; capon, twenty sous; two rooms--" when =
the
jester took from his coat the purse the young girl had given him, and,
selecting a coin, threw it on the board.&n=
bsp;
At the sight of the purse and its golden contents the countenance of=
the
proprietor mollified; his price forthwith varied with his changed estimate =
of
his guest's condition. "Two rooms, fifty sous; fodder, forty
sous"--he went on. "=
;That
would make--"
"Keep the coin," said the plaisant,
"and have the stable boy make haste."
With new alacrity, the innkeeper thrust the
pistole into a leathern pouch he carried at his girdle. A guest who paid so well could aff=
ord to
be eccentric, and if he and the young lady chose to travel without breakfas=
t,
it was obviously not for the purpose of economy. Therefore, exclaiming something ab=
out
"a lazy rascal that needed stirring up," the now interested landl=
ord
was about to go to the barn himself, when, with a loud clattering, a party =
of
horsemen rode up to the tavern; the door burst open and Triboulet, followed=
by
a tall, rugged-looking man and a party of troopers, entered the hall.
Swiftly the jester glanced around him; the room
had no other door than that before which the troopers were crowded; he was
fairly caught in a trap.
Remorsefully his thoughts flew to the young girl and the trust she h=
ad
imposed in him. How had he re=
warded
that confidence? By a temerity
which made this treachery on the part of the hunchback possible. Even now before him stood Triboule=
t,
bowing ironically.
"I trust you are well?" jeered the
dwarf, and with a light, dancing step began to survey the other from side to
side. "And the lady--is =
she
also well this morning? How p=
leased
you both were to see me yesterday!" assuming an insolent, albeit watch=
ful,
pose. "So you believed I=
had
run away from the duke? As if=
he
could get on without me. What=
would
be a honeymoon without Triboulet!
The maids of honor would die of ennui. One day they trick me out with
true-lovers' knots! the next, give me a Cupid's head for a wand. Leave the duke!" he repeated,
bombastically. "Triboulet
could not be so unkind."
"Enough of this buffoonery!" said a
decisive voice, and the dwarf drew back, not without a grimace, to make room
for a person of soldierly mien, who now pushed his way to the front. Over his doublet this gentleman wo=
re a
somewhat frayed, but embroidered, cloak; his broad hat was fringed with gold
that had lost its luster; his countenance, deeply burned, seemed that of an=
old
campaigner. He regarded the f=
ool courteously,
yet haughtily.
"Your sword, sir!" he commanded, in =
the
tone of one accustomed to being obeyed.
"To whom should I give it?" asked the
duke's jester.
"To the Vicomte de Gruise, commandant of =
the
town. I have a writ for your =
arrest
as a heretic."
"Who has lodged this information against
me?"
"Triboulet. That is, he procured the duke's
signature to the writ."
"And you think the duke a party to this
farce, my Lord?" said the fool, with assumed composure. "It has not occurred to you t=
hat
before the day is over all the village will be laughing at the spectacle of
their commandant--pardon me--being led by the nose by a jester?"
The officer's sun-burned face became yet redde=
r;
he frowned, then glanced suspiciously at Triboulet, whose reputation was
France-wide.
"This man was the duke's fool," scre=
amed
the dwarf, "and was imprisoned by order of the king. His companion who is here with him=
was
formerly jestress to the princess.
She is a sorceress and bewitched the monarch. Then her fancy seized upon the her=
etic,
and, by her dark art, she opened the door of the cell for him. Together they fled; she from the c=
ourt,
he from prison."
The commandant looked curiously from the hunch=
back
to the accused. If this were
acting, the dwarf was indeed a master of the art.
"Besides, his haste to leave the
village," eagerly went on Triboulet. "Why was he dressed at this
hour? Ask the landlord if he =
did
not seem unduly hurried?"
At this appeal the innkeeper, who had been an
interested spectator, now became a not unwilling witness.
"It is true he seemed hurried," he
answered. "When he first=
came
down he ordered breakfast. I
happened to mention the duke was at the château, whereupon he lost his
appetite with suspicious suddenness, called for his horses, and was for rid=
ing
off with all haste."
From the commandant's expression this testimony
apparently removed any doubts he may have entertained. Above the heads of the troopers ma=
ssed in
the doorway the duke's plaisant saw Jacqueline, standing on the stairs, with
wide-open, dark eyes fastened upon him.&nb=
sp;
Involuntarily he lifted his hand to his heart; across the brief space
glance melted into glance.
Persecuted Calvin maid--had not her fate been
untoward enough without this new disaster?=
Had not the king wrought sufficient ill to her and hers in the
past? Would she be sent back =
to the
court; the monarch? For himself he had no thought, but for her, who was nob=
ler
even than her birthright. He =
had
been thrice a fool who had not heeded portentous warnings--the sight of
Triboulet, the clamor of the troopers--and had failed to flee during the
night. As he realized the pen=
alty
of his negligence would fall so heavily upon her, a cry of rage burst from =
the
fool's lips and he sprang toward his aggressors. The young girl became yet whiter; a
moment she clung to the baluster; then started to descend the stairs. A dozen swords flashed before her =
eyes.
She drew in her breath sharply, when as if by =
some
magic, the anger faded from the face of the duke's fool; the hand he had ra=
ised
to his breast fell to his side; his blade remained sheathed.
"Your pardon, my Lord," he said to t=
he
commandant. "I have no i=
ntention
of resisting the authority of the law, but if you will grant me a few momen=
ts'
private audience in this room, I promise to convince you the Duke of Friedw=
ald
never signed that writ."
"Let him convince the council that examin=
es
heretics," laughed Triboulet.
"I'll warrant they'll make short work of his arguments."
"I will give you my sword, sir," wen=
t on
the jester. "Afterward, =
if you
are satisfied, you shall return it to me.&=
nbsp;
If you are not, on my word as a man of honor, I will go with you wit=
hout
more ado."
"A Calvinist, a jester, a man of honor!&q=
uot;
cried the dwarf.
But narrowly the vicomte regarded the
speaker. "Pardieu!"=
he exclaimed
gruffly. "Keep your
sword! I promise you I can lo=
ok to
my own safety." And in s=
pite
of Triboulet's remonstrance, he waved back the troopers and closed the door
upon the plaisant and himself.
Outside the dwarf stormed and stamped. "The jester is desperate. It is the noble count who is a
nonny. Open, fool-soldiers!&q=
uot;
This command not being obeyed by the men who
guarded the entrance, the dwarf began to abuse them. A considerable interval elapsed; t=
he hunchback,
who dared not go into the room himself, compromised by kneeling before the
keyhole; at the foot of the stairs stood the girl, her strained gaze fasten=
ed
upon the door.
"They must be near the window," mutt=
ered
Triboulet in a disappointed tone, rising.&=
nbsp;
"What can they be about?
Surely will he try to kill the commandant."
But even as he spoke the door was suddenly thr=
own
open and the vicomte appeared on the threshold.
"Clear the hall!" he commanded sharp=
ly
to the surprised soldiers. &q=
uot;If
I mistake not," he went on, addressing the duke's jester, "your
horses are at the door."
"You are going to let them go?" burst
forth Triboulet.
"I trust you and this fair
lady"--turning to the wondering girl, who now stood expectantly at the
side of the foreign fool--"will not harbor this incident against our
hospitality," went on the vicomte, without heeding the dwarf.
"The king will hang you!" exclaimed
Triboulet, his face black with disappointment and rage, as he witnessed the
plaisant and the jestress leave the tavern together. "Let them go and you must ans=
wer to
the king. One is a heretic who
threw down a cross; the other I charge with being a sorceress."
A terrible arraignment in those days, yet the
vicomte was apparently deaf. =
Hat in
hand, he waved them adieu; the steeds sprang forward, past the soldiers, and
down the street.
"After them!" cried the dwarf to the
troopers, "Dolts!
Joltheads!"
Whereupon one of the men, angered at this bait=
ing,
reaching out with his iron boot, caught the dwarf such a sharp blow he
staggered and fell, striking his head so violently he lay motionless on the
walk. At the same time, far a=
bove,
a body of troopers might have been seen issuing from the gates of the
château and leisurely wending their way downward.
=
Some part of the interview with the commandant
which had resulted in their release the jester told his companion as they s=
ped
down the sloping plain in the early silvery light which transformed the dew=
-drops
and grassy moisture into veils of mist.&nb=
sp;
Behind them the château was slowly fading from view; the town =
had
already disappeared. Around them the singing of the birds, the cooing of the
cushat doves and the buzzing of the bees, mingled in dreamy cadence. On each side stretched the plain w=
hich,
washed by recent heavy rains, was now spangled with new-grown flowers; here,
far apart in sequestered beauty; there, clustering companionably in a mass =
of
color.
"Upon the strength of the letter from the
emperor, the vicomte took the responsibility of allowing us to depart,"
explained the fool. "In =
it his
Majesty referred to his message to the king, to the part played by him who =
took
the place of the duke, and what he was pleased to term my services to Franc=
is
and himself."
So much the plaisant related, but he did not a=
dd
that the commandant, with Triboulet's words in mind, had at first demurred
about permitting the jestress to go.
"Vrai Dieu!" that person had exclaimed. "If what the dwarf said be
true? To cross the king!--and=
yet,"
he had added cynically, "it sounds most unlike. Did Aladdin flee from the genii of=
the
lamp? Such a magician is
Francis. Châteaux, gard=
ens--'tis
clearly an invention of Triboulet's!"=
And the fallacy of this conclusion the duke's plaisant had not sough=
t to
demonstrate.
Without question, the young girl listened, but
when he had finished her features hardened. Intuitively she divined a gap in t=
he
narrative; herself! From the
dwarf's slur to Caillette's gentle look of surprise constituted a natural s=
pan
for reflection. And the duke's
fool, seeing her face turn cold, attributed it, perhaps, to another
reason. Her story recurred to=
him;
she was no longer a nameless jestress; an immeasurable distance separated a
mere plaisant from the survivor of one of the noblest, if most unfortunate,
families of France. She had n=
ot
answered the night before when he had addressed her as the daughter of the
constable; motionless as a statue had she gazed after him; and, remembering=
the
manner of their parting, he now looked at her curiously.
"All's well that ends well," he said,
"but I must crave indulgence, Lady Jacqueline, for having brought you =
into
such peril."
She flushed.&=
nbsp;
"Do you persist in that foolishness?" she returned quickly=
.
"Do you deny the right to be so called?&q=
uot;
"Did I not tell you--the constable's daug=
hter
is dead?"
"To the world! But to the fool--may he not serve
her?"
His face was expectant; his voice, light yet
earnest. Her answer was half-=
sad,
half-bright, as though her tragedy, like those acted dramas, had its less
somber lines. And in the stage
versions of those dark, mournful pieces were not the softer bits introduced
with cap and bell? The fool's stick and the solemn march of irresistible and
lowering destiny went hand in hand.
Everywhere the tinkle of the tiny bells.
"Poor service!" she retorted. "A discredited mistress!"=
;
"One I am minded for," he replied, a
sudden flash in his eyes.
She looked away; her lips curved.
"For how long?" she said,
half-mockingly, and touched her horse before he could reply.
What words had her action checked on his
lips? A moment was he disconc=
erted,
then riding after her, he smiled, thinking how once he had carelessly passed
her by; how he had looked upon her but as a wilful child.
A child, forsooth! His pulses throbbed fast. Life had grown strangely sweet, as
though from her look, when she had stood on the stairs, he had drawn new
zest. To serve her seemed a
happiness that drowned all other ills; a selfish bond of subordination. Her misfortunes dignified her; her=
worn
gown was dearer in his eyes than courtly splendor; the disorder of her hair
more becoming than nets of gold and coifs of jewels. He forgot their danger; the broad =
plain
lay like a pleasure garden before them; fairer in natural beauty than Franc=
is'
conventional parks.
And she, too, had ceased to remember the dwarf=
's
words, for the joy of youth is strong, and the sunshine and air were rarely
intoxicating. There was a stirring rhythm in the movement of the steeds;
noiselessly their hoofs beat upon the soft earth and tender mosses. The rains which elsewhere had floo=
ded
the lowlands here but enlivened the vernal freshness of the scene. The air was full of floating
thistle-down; a cloud of insects dancing in the light, parted to let them p=
ass.
At the sight of a bush, white with flowers, she
uttered an exclamation of pleasure, and broke off a branch covered with
fragrant blossoms, as they rode by.
Out of the depths of this store-house of sweets a plundering
humming-bird flashed and vanished, a jewel from nature's crown! She held the branch to her face an=
d he
glanced at her covertly; she was all jestress again. The cadence of that measured motion
shaped itself to an ancient lyric in keeping with the song of birds, the bl=
ue sky,
and the wild roses.
&=
nbsp;
"Hark! hark! Pretty lark! Little heedest thou my pain.&=
quot;
He bent his head listening; he could scarcely =
hear
the words. Was it a sense of =
new
security that moved her; the reaction of their narrow escape; the knowledge
they were leaving the château and all danger behind them?
&=
nbsp;
"Hark! hark! Pretty lark!--&qu=
ot;
=
Boom! Far in the distance sounded the
discharge of a cannon--its iron voice the antithesis to the poet's dainty
pastoral. As the report rever=
berated
over the valley, from the grass innumerable insects arose; the din died awa=
y;
the disturbed earth-dwellers sank back to earth again. The song ceased from the young gir=
l's
lips, and, gazing quickly back, she could just distinguish, above one of the
parapets of the château, a wreath, already nearly dissolved in the bl=
ue
of the sky. The jester, who had also turned in his saddle, met her look of
inquiry.
"It sounds like a signal of some kind--a
salute, perhaps," he said.
"Or a call to arms?" she suggested, =
and
he made no answer. "It m=
eans--pursuit!"
Silent they rode on, but more rapidly. With pale face and composed mien s=
he
kept by his side; her resolute expression reassured him, while her glance s=
aid:
"Do not fear for me."
Gradually had they been descending from the higher slopes of the cou=
ntry
of which the château-mount was the loftiest point and now were passing
through the lower stretches of land.
Here, the highway ran above fields, inundated =
by
recent rains, and marshes converted into shining lakes. Out of the water uprose a grove of
trees, spectral-like; screaming wild-fowl skimmed the surface, or circled
above. The pastoral peace of =
the
meadows, garden of the wild flower and home of the song-bird, was replaced =
by a
waste of desolation and wilderness.
Long they dashed on through the loneliness of that land; a depressing
flight--but more depressing than the abandoned and forlorn aspect of the sc=
ene
was the consciousness that their steeds had become road-worn and were unabl=
e to
respond. Long, long, they con=
tinued
this pace, a strained period of suspense, and then the fool drew rein.
"Look, Jacqueline," he said. "The river!"
Before them, fed by the rivulets from the dist=
ant
hills, the foaming current threatened to overflow its banks. Already the rising waters touched =
the flimsy
wooden structure that spanned the torrent. Contemplatively he regarded it, =
and
then placing his hand for a moment on hers, said encouragingly:
"Perhaps, after all, we are borrowing
trouble?"
She shook her head. "If I could but think it,&quo=
t; she
answered. Something seemed to rise in her throat. "A moment I forgot, and--was =
not
unhappy! But now I feel as th=
ough
the end was closing about us."
He tightened his grasp. "You are worn with fatigue;
fanciful!" he replied.
"The end!" she repeated, passionatel=
y. "Yes; the end!" And threw off his hand. "Look!"
He followed her eyes. "Waving plumes!" he
cried. "And drawing near=
er! Come,
Jacqueline! let us ride on!"
"How?" she answered, in a lifeless
tone. "The bridge will n=
ot
hold."
For answer he turned his horse to it; proceeded
slowly across. It wavered and=
bent;
her wide-opened eyes followed him; once she lifted her hand to her breast, =
and
then became conscious he stood on the opposite bank, calling her to
follow. She started; a strange
smile was on her lips, and touching her horse sharply, she obeyed.
"Is it to death he has called me?" s=
he
asked herself.
In her ears sounded the swash and eddying of t=
he
current; she closed her eyes to keep from falling, when she felt a hand on =
the
bridle, and in a moment had reached the opposite shore. The jester made no motion to remou=
nt,
but remained at her horse's head, closely surveying the road they had trave=
led.
"Must we go on?" she said, mechanica=
lly.
"Only one of them can cross at a time,&qu= ot; he answered, without stirring. "It is better to meet them here."<= o:p>
"Oh," she spoke up, "if the wat=
ers
would only rise a little more and carry away the bridge."
He glanced quickly around him, weighing the
slender chance for success if he made that last desperate stand, and then,
grasping a loose plank, began using it as a lever against one of the weaken=
ed
supports of the bridge. Soon =
the
beam gave way, and the structure, now held but at the middle and one side, =
had
already begun to sag, when from around the curve of the highway appeared Lo=
uis
of Hochfels, and a dozen of his followers.
The free baron rode to the brim of the torrent,
regarded the flood and the bridge, and stopped. He was mounted on a black Spanish =
barb
whose glistening sides were flecked with foam; a cloak of cloth of gold fel=
l from
his brawny shoulders; his heavy, red face looked out from beneath a sombrer=
o,
fringed with the same metal. A
gleam of grim recollection shone from his bloodshot eyes as they rested on =
the
fool.
"Oh, there you are!" he shouted, with
savage satisfaction. "Ou=
t of
the frying-pan into the fire! Or
rather--for you escaped the fagots at Notre Dame--out of the fire into the
frying-pan!"
Above the tumult of the torrent his stentorian
tones were plainly heard. Wit=
hout
response, the jester inserted the plank between the structure and the middle
support. The other, perceivin=
g his
purpose, uttered an execration that was drowned by the current, and
irresolutely regarded the means of communication between the two shores,
obviously undetermined about trusting his great bulk to that fragile
intermedium. Here was a temporary check on which he had not calculated. But if he demurred about crossing
himself, the free baron did not long display the same infirmity of purpose
regarding his followers.
"Over with you!" he cried angrily to
them. "The lightest
first! Fifty pistoles to the =
first
across!" And then, calli=
ng out
to the fool: "In half an hour, you, my fine wit-cracker, shall be hang=
ing
from a branch. As for the maid, she is a witch, I am told--we will test her
with drowning."
Tempted by their leader's offer, one of the
troopers, a lank, muscular-looking fellow, at once drove the spurs into his
horse. Back and forth moved t=
he
lever in the hands of the jester; the soldier was midway on the bridge, whe=
n it
sank suddenly to one side. A =
moment
it acted as a dam, then bridge, horse and rider were swept away with a crash
and carried downward with the driving flood. Vainly the trooper sought to turn =
his
steed toward the shore; the debris from the structure soon swept him from h=
is
saddle. Striking out strongly=
, he succeeded
in catching a trailing branch from a tree on the bank, but the torrent grip=
ped
his body fiercely, and, after a desperate struggle, tore him away.
As his helpless follower disappeared, the free
baron gave a brief command, and he and his troops posted rapidly down the
bank. The young girl breathed=
a
sigh of relief; her eyes were yet full of awe from the death struggle she h=
ad
witnessed. Fascinated, her ga=
ze had
rested on the drowning wretch; the pale face, the look of terror; but now s=
he
was called to a realization of their own situation by the abrupt departure =
of
the squad on the opposite shore.
"They have gone," she cried, in
surprise, as the party vanished among the trees.
"But not far." The jester's glance was bent down =
the
stream. "See, where the
torrent broadens. They expect=
to
find a fording place."
Once more they set forth; he knowing full well
that the free baron and his men, accustomed to the mountain torrents, unbri=
dled
by the melting snows, would, in all likelihood, soon find a way to cross the
freshet. His mind misgave him that he had loosened the bridge at all. Would it not have been better to f=
orce
the conflict there, when he had the advantage of position? But right or wrong, he had made his
choice and must abide by it.
To add to his discomfiture, his horse, which at
first had lagged, now began to limp, and, as they proceeded, this lameness
became more apparent. With a =
twinge
of heart, he plied the spur more strongly, and the willing but broken creat=
ure
responded as best it could. A=
gain
it hastened its pace, seeming in a measure to recover strength and enduranc=
e,
then, without warning, lurched, fell to its knees and quickly rolled over on
its side. Jacqueline glanced =
back;
the animal lay motionless; the rider was vainly endeavoring to rise. Pale with apprehension she returne=
d,
and, dismounting, stood at the head of the prostrate animal. Determinedly the jester struggled,=
the
perspiration standing on his brow in beads. At length, breathing hard, he rest=
ed his
head on his elbow.
"Here am I caught to stay, Jacqueline!&qu=
ot;
he said. "The horse is d=
ead. But
you--you must still go on."
With clasped hands she stood looking down at
him. She scarcely knew what h=
e was
saying; her mind seemed in a stupor; with apathetic eyes she gazed down the
road. But the accident had ha=
ppened
in a little hollow, so that the outlook in either direction along the highw=
ay
was restricted.
"My emperor is both chivalrous and noble,=
"
continued the plaisant, quickly.
"Go to him. You m=
ust
not wait here longer. I did n=
ot
tell you, but I think the free baron will have no difficulty in crossing. Y=
ou
have no time to lose. Go;
and--good-by!"
"But--he had a long way to ride--even if =
he
could cross," she said slowly, passing her hand over her brow.
"Jacqueline!" he cried out, impatien=
tly.
She made no motion to leave, and, reading in h=
er
face her determination, angered by his own helplessness, he strove violentl=
y to
release himself, until wrenching his foot in his frantic efforts, he sank b=
ack
with a groan. At that sound of
pain, wrung from him in spite of his fortitude, all her seeming apathy
vanished. With a low cry, she=
dropped
on her knees in the road and swiftly took his head in her arms.
It was he, not the young girl, who spoke
first. He forgot all peril--h=
ers
and his. He only knew her war=
m,
young arms were about him; that her heart was throbbing wildly.
"Jacqueline!" he cried,
passionately.
"Jacqueline!" And
threw an arm about her, drawing her closer, closer.
Did she hear him? She did not reply. Nor did she release him. She did not even look down. But he felt her bosom rising and f=
alling
faster than its wont.
"Jacqueline," he repeated, "are=
you
listening?"
She stirred slightly; the pallor left her
face. In her gaze shone a lig=
ht
difficult to divine--pity, tenderness, a warmer passion? Where had he seen it before? In the cell when he lay injured; i=
n his
waking dreams? It seemed the =
sudden
dawn of the full beauty of her eyes; a half-remembered impression which now
became real. Yet even as she =
looked
down his face changed; his eager glance grew dark; he listened intently.
The sound of horses' hoofs beat upon the air.<= o:p>
"Jacqueline!--go!--there is yet time!&quo=
t;
Abruptly she arose. He held out his hand for a last qu=
ick
pressure; a God-speed to this stanch maid-comrade of the motley.
"God keep you, mistress!"
Standing in the road, gazing up the hollow, she
neither saw his hand nor caught his words of farewell. An expression of bewilderment had =
overspread
her features; quickly she glanced in the opposite direction.
"See! see!" she exclaimed, excitedly=
.
But he was past response; overcome by pain, in=
a
last desperate attempt to regain his feet, he had lost consciousness. As he fell back, above the hill in=
the
direction she was looking, appeared the black plumes of a band of horsemen.=
"No; they are not--"
Her glance rested on the jester, lying there
motionless, and hastening to his side, she lifted his head and placed it in=
her
lap. So the troopers of the E=
mperor
Charles--a small squad of outriders--found her sitting in the road, her hair
disordered about her, her face the whiter against that black shroud.
=
On an eminence commanding the surrounding coun=
try
an unwonted spectacle that same day had presented itself to the astonished =
gaze
of the workers in a neighboring vineyard.&=
nbsp;
Gleaming with crimson and gold, a number of tents had appeared as by
magic on the mount, the temporary encampment of a rich and numerous
cavalcade. But it was not the=
splendent
aspect of this unexpected bivouac itself so much as the colors and designs =
of
the flags and banners floating above which aroused the wonderment of the
tillers of the soil. Here gle=
amed
no salamander, with its legend, "In fire am I nourished; in fire I
die," but the less magniloquent and more dreaded coat of arms of the
emperor, the royal rival and one-time jailer of the proud French monarch.
The sunlight, reflected from the golden tassels
and ornamentation of the tents, threw a flaming menace over the valley, and=
the
peasants in subdued tones talked of the sudden coming of the dreaded
foeman. Mère de Dieu! =
what
did it portend! Ventre Saint =
Gris!
were they going to storm the fortresses of the king? Was an army following this formida=
ble
retinue of nobles, soldiers and servants?
Above, on the mount, as the sun climbed toward=
the
meridian, was seated in one of the largest of the tents a man of resolute a=
nd
stern mien who gazed reflectively toward the fertile plain outstretching in=
the
distance. His grizzled hair t=
old of
the after-prime of life; he was simply, even plainly, dressed, although his
garments were of fine material, and from his neck hung a heavy chain of
gold. His doublet lacked the
prolonged and grotesque peak, and was less puffed, slashed and banded than =
the
coat worn by those gallants of the day who looked to Italy for the latest
extravagances of fashion. His=
hat,
lying carelessly on the table at his elbow, was devoid of aigrette, jewels =
or plume;
a head-covering for the campaign rather than the court. Within reach of his hand stood a h=
eavy
golden goblet of massive German workmanship, the solid character of which
contrasted with the drinking vessels after Cellini's patterns affected by
Francis. This he raised to his
lips, drank deeply, replaced the goblet on the table, and said as much to
himself as to those around him:
"A fair land, this of our brother! Small wonder he likes to play the =
host,
even to his enemies. We may c=
onquer
him on the ensanguined field, but he conquers us--or Henry of England!--on a
field of cloth of gold!"
"But for your Majesty to put yourself in =
the
king's power?" ventured a courtier, who wore a begemmed torsade and a
cloak of Genoa velvet.
The monarch leaned back in his great chair and=
his
face grew harsh. As he sat th=
ere
musing, his virility and iron figure gave him rather the appearance of the
soldier than the emperor. This
impression his surroundings further emphasized, for the walls of the tent w=
ere covered,
not with the gorgeous-colored Gobelins of the pleasure-loving French, but w=
ith
severe and stately tapestries from his native Flanders, depicting in somber
shades various scenes of martial triumph. When he raised his head he cast a=
look
of ominous displeasure upon the last speaker.
"Had he not once the English king beneath=
his
roof?" answered the monarch.
"At Amboise, where we visited Francis some years ago, was there=
any
restraint put upon us?"
A grim smile crossed his features at the
recollection of the gorgeous fêtes in his honor on that other
occasion. Perhaps, too, he th=
ought of
the excitements held out by those servitors of the king, the frail and fair
ladies of the court, for he added:
"Saints et saintes! 'twas a palace of
pleasure, not a dungeon, he prepared for us. But enough of this! It is time we rode on. Let the cavalcade, with the tents,
follow behind."
"Think you, your Majesty, if the princess=
be
not yet married to the bastard, she is like to espouse the true duke?"
asked the courtier, as a soldier left the tent to carry out the orders of t=
he
emperor.
Charles arose abruptly. "Of a surety! He must have loved her greatly, el=
se--"
The clattering of hoofs, drawing nearer,
interrupted the emperor's ruminations, and, wheeling sharply, he gazed
without. A band of horsemen
appeared on the mount.
"The outriders!" he said in
surprise. "Why have they
returned?"
"They are bearing some one on a litter,&q=
uot;
answered the attendant noble, "and--cap de Dieu--there is a woman with
them!"
As the troops approached, the emperor strode
forward. Out in the sunlight =
his
face appeared older, more careworn, but although it cost him an effort to w=
alk,
his step was unfaltering. A m=
oment
he surveyed the men with peremptory glance, and then, casting one look at t=
heir
burden, uttered an exclamation. His
surprise, however, was of short duration.&=
nbsp;
At once his features resumed their customary rigor.
"What does this mean?" he asked,
shortly, addressing the leader of the soldiers. "Is he badly hurt?"
"That I can not say, your Majesty,"
replied the man. "A hors=
e fell
upon his leg, which is badly bruised, and there may be other injuries."=
;
"Where did you find him?" continued =
the
emperor, still regarding the pale face of the plaisant.
"Not far from here, your Majesty. The woman was sitting in the road,=
holding
his head."
Charles' glance swiftly sought the jestress and
then returned.
"They were being pursued, for shortly aft=
er
we came a squad of men appeared from the opposite direction. When they saw us they fled. The woman insisted upon being brou=
ght
here, when she learned of your Majesty's presence."
"Take the injured man into the next tent =
and
see he has every care. As for=
the
woman, I will speak with her alone."
"Your Majesty's orders to break camp--&qu=
ot;
began the courtier.
"We have changed our mind and will remain
here for the present." A=
nd the
emperor, without further words, turned and reëntered his pavilion.
With his hands behind him, he stood thoughtful=
ly
leaning against a table; his countenance had become somber, morose. The twinges of pain from a disease=
which
afterward caused him to abdicate the throne and relinquish all power and
worldly vanities for a life of religious meditation began to make themselves
felt. Love--ambition--what we=
re they? The perishable flesh--was it the
all-in-all? Those sudden pang=
s of
the body seemed like over-forward confessors abruptly admonishing him.
The jester and the woman--Francis and the
princess--what had they become to him now?=
Figures in an intangible, illusory dream. Deeply religious, repentant, perha=
ps,
for past misdeeds at such a moment as this, the soldier-emperor stood befor=
e a
silver crucifix.
"Credo in sanctum," he murmured, with
contrite glance. "How re=
pugnant
is human glory! to conquer the earth; to barter what is immortal! Carnis resurrectionem--"
A shadow fell across the tapestry, and glancing
from the blessed symbol, he saw before him, kneeling on the rug, the figure=
of
a woman. For her it was an inauspicious interruption. With almost a frown, Charles, recal=
led
from an absorbing period of oblation and self-examination, surveyed the you=
ng
girl. The reflection of dark =
colors
from the hangings and tapestries softened the pallor of her face; her hair =
hung
about her in disorder; her figure, though meanly garbed, was replete with y=
outh
and grace. Silent she continu=
ed in
the posture of a suppliant.
"Well?" said the monarch finally, in=
a
harsh voice.
Slowly she lifted her head; her dark eyes rest=
ed
on the ruler steadfastly, fearlessly.
"Your Majesty commanded my presence," she answered.
"Who are you?" he asked coldly.
"I am called Jacqueline; my father was the
Constable of Dubrois."
Incredulity replaced every other emotion on the
emperor's features, and, approaching her, he gazed attentively into the
countenance she so frankly uplifted.
With calmness she bore that piercing scrutiny; his dark, troubled so=
ul,
looking out of his keen gray eyes, met an equally lofty spirit.
"The Constable of Dubrois! You, his daughter!" he repeat=
ed.
His thoughts swiftly pierced the shadows of the
past; that umbrageous past, darkened with war and carnage; the memory of
triumphs; the bitterness of defeats!
And studying her eyes, her face, as in a vision he recalled the
features, the bearing, of him who had held himself an equal to his old riva=
l,
Francis. A red spot rose to h=
is
cheek as he reviewed the martial, combative days; the game of arms he had
played so often with Francis--and won!&nbs=
p;
Not always by daring, or courage--rather by sagacity, clear-headedne=
ss,
more potent than any other force!
But a pang of bodily suffering reminded him of=
the
present and its ills, and the vainglory of brief exultation faded as quickl=
y as
it had assailed him; involuntarily his glance sought the sacred emblem of i=
ntercession. When he regarded her once more his=
face
had resumed its severe, uncompromising aspect.
"The constable was a proud, haughty
man," he said, brusquely.
"Yea, over-proud, in fact.&nbs=
p;
You know why he fled to me?"
"Yes, Sire," she answered, flushing
resentfully.
"To persuade me to espouse his cause agai=
nst
the king. Many times have my =
good
brother, Francis, and myself gone to war," he added, reflectively and =
not
without a certain complacency, "but then were we engaged in troubles in
the east; to keep the Mohammedans from overrunning our Christian land. How could I oblige the constable b=
y fighting
the heathen and the believers in the gospel in one breath? Your father--for=
I
am ready to believe him such, by the evidence of your face, and, especially,
your eyes--accused me of little faith.&nbs=
p;
But I had either to desert him, or Europe. His cause was lost; 'twas the fort=
une of
war; the fate of great families becomes subservient to that of nations.&quo=
t;
He spoke as if rather presenting the case to
himself than to her; as though he sought to analyze his own action through =
the
medium of time and the trend of larger events. Attentively she watched him with d=
eep, serious
eyes, and, catching her almost accusing look and knowing how, perhaps, he
shuffled with history, his brow grew darker; he was visibly annoyed at her-=
-his
own conscience--he knew not what!
"I did not complain, your Majesty," =
she
said proudly.
Her answer surprised him. Again he observed her attire; the =
pallor
of her face; the dark circles beneath her eyes. Grimly he marked these signs of po=
verty;
those marks of the weariness and privations she had undergone.
"Was it not your intention to seek me?
"Not to beg, your Majesty! To ask, yes! But now--not that!"
"Vrai Dieu!" muttered Charles. "There is the father over
again! It is strange this mai=
den
clothed almost in rags should claim such illustrious parentage," he
continued to himself, as he walked restlessly to and fro. "It is more strange I ask no =
other
proofs than herself--the evidence of my eyes! Where did you come from?" he =
added,
aloud, pausing before her.
"The court of Francis?"
"Yes, Sire."
"Why did you leave the king?"
"Why--because--" Her hands clenched. The gray eyes continued to probe h=
er. "Because I hate him!"
The emperor's face relaxed; a gleam of humor s=
hone
in his glance. "Hate him whom so many of your sex love?" he repli=
ed.
Through her tresses he saw her face turn red;
passionately she arose. "With your Majesty's permission, I will go.&qu=
ot;
"Go?" he said abruptly. "Where can you go? You are somewhat quick of temper,
like--. Have I refused you
aught? I could not serve your=
father,"
he continued, taking her hand, and, not ungently, detaining her, "but I
may welcome his daughter--though necessity, the ruler of kings, made me
helpless in his behalf!"
As in a flash her resentment faded. Half-paternally, half-severely, he=
surveyed
her.
"Sit down here," he went on, indicat=
ing
a low stool. "You are we=
ary and
need refreshment."
Silent she obeyed, and the emperor, touching a
bell, gave a low command to the servitor who appeared. In a few moments meat, fruits and =
wine were
set before her, and Charles, from his point of vantage--no throne of gold, =
but
a chair lined with Cordovan leather, watched her partake. The pains had aga=
in
left him; the monk gave way to the ruler; he thought of no more phrases of =
the
Credo, but with impassive face listened to her story, or as much as she car=
ed
to relate. When she had finis=
hed,
for some time he offered no comment.
"A strange tale," he said finally. "But what will our nobles do =
when ladies
take mere fools for knight-errants?"
"He is no mere fool!" she spoke up,
impulsively.
The emperor shot a quick look at her from bene=
ath
his lowering brows.
"I mean--he is brave--and has protected me
many times," she explained in some confusion.
"And so you, knowing what you were,
remained--with a poor jester--a clown--rather than leave him to his fate?&q=
uot;
continued Charles, inexorably, recalling the words of the outriders.
Her face became paler, but she held her head m=
ore
proudly; the spirit of the jestress sprang to her lips, "It is only ki=
ngs,
Sire, who fear to cling to a forlorn cause!"
His eyes grew dark and gloomy; morosely he bent
his gaze upon her. No one had=
ever
before dared to speak to him like that, for Charles had no love for jesters,
and kept none in his court.
Unsparing, iron-handed, he had gone his way. But, perhaps, in her very fearless=
ness
he recognized a touch of his own inflexible nature. At any rate, his sternness soon ga=
ve way
to an expression of melancholy.
"God alone knows the hearts of
monarchs!" he said, somberly, and directed his glance toward the cruci=
fix.
Moved by his unexpected leniency and the aspec=
t of
his cheerlessness, she immediately repented of her response. He looked so old, and melancholy, =
this
great monarch. When he again =
turned
to her his face and manner expressed no further cognizance of her reply.
"You need rest," he said, "and
shall have a tent to yourself. Now
go!" he continued, placing his hand for a moment, not unkindly, on her
head. "I shall give orders for your entertainment. It will be rough hospitality, but-=
-you
are used to that. I am not so=
rry,
child, you hate our brother Francis, if it has driven you to our court.&quo=
t;
=
Although the daughter of the constable received
every attention commensurate with the cheer of the camp, the day passed but
slowly. With more or less interest she viewed the diversified group of sold=
iers,
drawn by Charles from the various countries over which he ruled: the brawny
troops from Flanders; the alert-looking guards, recruited from the mountain=
s of
Spain; the men of Friedwald, with muscles tough as the fibers of the fir in
their native forests. Even the
Orient--suggestive of many campaigns!--had been drawn upon, and the bright-=
garbed
olive-skinned attendants, moving among the tents of purple or crimson, blen=
ded
picturesquely with the more solid masses of color.
For the Flemish soldiery, who had brought the =
fool
and herself to the camp, the young girl had a nod and a word, but it was the
men of Friedwald who especially attracted her attention, and unconsciously =
she found
herself picturing the land that had fostered this stalwart and rough
soldiery. A rocky, rugged reg=
ion,
surely; with vast forests, unbroken brush!=
Yonder armorer, polishing a joint of steel, seemed like a survivor of
that primeval epoch when the trees were roofs and the ground the universal
bed. Once or twice she passed=
him,
curiously noting his great beard and giant-like limbs. But he minded her not, and this,
perhaps, gave her courage to pause.
"What sort of country is Friedwald?"=
she
said, abruptly.
"Wild," he answered.
"Is the duke liked?" she went on.
"Yes."
"Do you know his--jester?"
"No."
For all the information he would volunteer, the
man might have been Doctor Rabelais' model for laconicism, and a moment she
stood there with a slight frown.
Then she gazed at him meditatively; tap! tap! went the tiny hammer in
the mighty hand, and, laughing softly, she turned. These men of Friedwald were not
unpleasing in her eyes.
Twice had she approached the tent wherein lay =
the
fool, only to learn that the emperor was with the duke's plaisant. "A slight relapse of fever,&q=
uot;
had said the Italian leech, as he blocked the entrance and stared at her wi=
th
wicked, twinkling eyes. She n=
eed be
under no apprehension, he had added; but to her quick fancy his glance said:
"A maid wandering with a fool!"
Apprehension?=
No; it could not be that she felt but a new sense of loneliness; of =
that
isolation which contact with strange faces emphasized. What had come over her? she asked
herself. She who had been so
self-sufficient; whose nature now seemed filled with sudden yearnings and
restlessness, impatience--she knew not what. She who thought she had partaken so
abundantly of life's cup abruptly discovered renewed sources for
disquietude. With welling hea=
rt she
watched the sun go down; the glory of the widely-radiating hues give way to=
the
pall of night. Upon her young
shoulders the mantle of darkness seemed to rest so heavily she bowed her he=
ad
in her hands.
"A maid and a fool! Ah, foolish maid!" whispered =
the
wanton breeze.
The pale light of the stars played upon her, a=
nd the
dews fell, until involuntarily shivering with the cold, she arose. As she walked by the emperor's qua=
rters
she noticed a figure silhouetted on the canvas walls; to and fro the shadow
moved, shapeless, grotesque, yet eloquent of life's vexation of spirit. Turning into her own tent, the jes=
tress lighted
the wick of a silver lamp; a faint aroma of perfume swept through the air.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> It seemed to soothe her--or was it=
but weariness?--and
shortly she threw herself on the silken couch and sank to dreamless slumber=
.
When she awoke, the bright-hued dome of the te=
nt
was aglow in the morning sun; the reflected radiance bathed her face and fo=
rm;
her heaviness of heart had taken wings.&nb=
sp;
The little lamp was still burning, but the fresh fragrance of dawn h=
ad
replaced the subtile odor of the oriental essence. Upon the rug a single streak of su=
nshine
was creeping toward her. In t=
he
brazier which had warmed her tent the glowing bark and cinnamon had turned =
to
cold, white ash.
Through the girl's veins the blood coursed rap=
idly;
a few moments she lay in the rosy effulgence, restfully conscious that dang=
er
had fled and that she was bulwarked by the emperor's favor, when a sudden t=
hought
broke upon this half-wakeful mood, and caused her to spring, all alert, from
her couch. To dress, with her=
had
never been a matter of great duration.&nbs=
p;
The hair of the joculatrix naturally rippled into such waves as were=
the
envy of the court ladies; her supple fingers adjusted garment after garment
with swift precision, while her figure needed no device to lend grace to the
investment.
Soon, therefore, had she left her tent, making=
her
way through the awakening camp. In
the royal kitchen the cook was bending over his fires, while an assistant m=
ixed
a beverage of barley-water, yolks of eggs and senna wine for Charles when he
should become aroused. Those =
courtiers,
already astir, cast many glances in the girl's direction, as she moved towa=
rd
the tent of the fool.
But if these gallants were sedulous, she was
correspondingly indifferent. =
Anxiety
or loyalty--that stanchness of heart which braved even the ironical eyes of=
the
black-robed master of medicine--drove her again to the ailing jester's tent,
and, remembering how she had ridden into camp--and into the august emperor's
favor--these fondlings of fortune looked significantly from one to the othe=
r.
"A jot less fever, solicitous maid,"
said the leech in answer to the inquiries of the jestress, and she endured =
the
glance for the news, although the former sent her away with her face aflame=
.
"An the leech let her in, he'd soon have =
to
let the patient out," spoke up a gallant. "Her eyes are a sovereign rem=
edy,
where bolus, pills and all vile potions might fail."
"If this be a sample of Francis' damsels,=
I
care not how long we are in reaching the Low Countries," answered a
second.
To this the first replied in kind, but soon had
these gallants matters of more serious moment to divert them, for it began =
to
be whispered about that Louis of Hochfels had determined to push forward. The unwonted activity in the camp =
ere
long gave credence to the rumor; the troopers commenced looking to their
weapons; squires hurried here and there, while near the tents stood the hor=
ses,
saddled and bridled, undergoing the scrutiny of the grooms.
Some time, however, elapsed before the emperor
himself appeared. Nothing in the bead-roll, or devotional offering of the
morning, had he overlooked; the divers dishes that followed had been
scrupulously partaken of, and then only--as a man not to be hurried from the
altar or the table--had he emerged from his tent. His glance mechanically swept the =
camp,
noting the bustle and stir, the absence of disorder, and finally rested on =
the
girl. For a moment, from his =
look,
it seemed he might have forgotten her, and she who had involuntarily turned=
to him
so solicitously, on a sudden felt chilled, as confronted by a mask. His voi=
ce,
when at length he spoke, was hard, dry, matter-of-fact, and it was Jacqueli=
ne
whom he addressed.
"You slept well?"
"Yes, Sire," she answered.
"And have already been to the fool's tent=
, I
doubt not."
The mask became half-quizzical, half-friendly,=
as
her cheeks mantled beneath his regard.&nbs=
p;
Was it but quiet avengement against a jestress whose tongue had been
unsparing enough, even to him, the day before? Certes, here stood now only a
rosy maid, robbed of her spirit; or a folle, struck witless, and Charles' f=
ace
softened, but immediately grew stern, as his mind abruptly passed from
wandering jestress and fleeing fool to matters of more moment.
Under vow to the Virgin, the emperor had annou=
nced
he would not draw sword himself that day, but, seated beneath a canopy of
velvet, overlooking the valley, he so far compromised with conscience as pe=
rsonally
to direct the preparations for the conflict. On his sable throne, surrounded by
funereal hangings, how white and furrowed, how harassed with many cares, he
appeared in the glare of the morn to the young girl! Was this he who held nearly all Eu=
rope
in his palm? who between martial commands talked of Holy Orders, the Aposto=
lic
See and the Seven Sacraments to his priestly confessor?
And from aloof she studied him, with new doubts
and misgiving, her thoughts running fast; and anon bent her eyes to the hil=
l on
the other side of the valley. In
her condition of mind, confused as before a crisis, it was a distinct relief
when toward noon word was brought that the free baron was approaching. Soon, not far distant, the
cortège of Louis of Hochfels was seen; at the front, flashing helmets
and breastplates; behind, a cavalcade of ladies on horseback and litters, a=
bove
which floated many flags and banners.
Would he come on; would he turn back? Many opinions were rife.
"Oh," cried a page with golden hair,
"there will be no battle after all."
And truly, confronted by the aspect of the
emperor's camp, the marauder had at first hesitated; but if the dangers bef=
ore
him were great, those behind were greater.=
Accordingly, leaving the cavalcade of the princess, her maids and
attendants, the free baron of Hochfels, surrounded by his own trusted troop=
s,
dashed forward arrogantly into the valley, bent upon sweeping aside even the
opposition of Charles himself.
"Yonder's a daring knave, your Majesty,&q=
uot;
with some perturbation observed the prelate who stood near the emperor's ch=
air.
"Certes, he tilts at fame, or death, with=
a
bold lance," replied Charles.
"Would that Robert of Friedwald were there to cry him quits.&qu=
ot;
While thus he spoke, as calm as though seclude=
d in
one of his monastery retreats, weighing the affairs of state, nearer and ne=
arer
drew the soldiers of the bastard of Pfalz-Urfeld; roughly calculating, a fo=
rce numerically
as strong as the emperor's own guard.
The young girl, her face now white and drawn,
watched the approaching band. Would
Charles never give the signal? Imperturbable sat the mounted troop=
ers of
the emperor, awaiting the word of command.=
At length, when her breath began to come fast and sharp, Charles rai=
sed his
arm. In a solid, steady body,=
his
men swept onward. The girl st=
rove
to look away, but could not.
Both bands, gaining in momentum, met with a
crash. That nice symmetry of =
form
and orderliness of movement was succeeded by a tangle of men and horses; the
bristling array of lances had vanished, and swords and weapons for hand-to-=
hand
warfare threw a play of light amid the jumble of troops and steeds, flags a=
nd
banners. With sword red from
carnage, Louis of Hochfels drew his men around him, hurling them against th=
e firm
front of Charles' veterans. I=
t was
the crucial moment; the turning point in a struggle that could not be
prolonged, but would be rather sharp, short and decisive. If his men failed at the onset, al=
l was
lost; if they gained but a little ascendancy now, their mastery of the field
became fairly assured. Great =
would
be the reward for success; the fruits of victory--the emperor himself. And savagely the free baron cut do=
wn a
stalwart trooper; his blade pierced the throat of another.
"Clear the way to Charles!" he cried,
exultantly. "He is our
guerdon."
So terrible that rush, the guard of Spain on t=
he
right and the troops of Flanders on the left began to give way; only the me=
n of
Friedwald stood, but with the breaking of the forces on each side it was in=
evitable
they, too, must soon be overwhelmed.
Involuntarily, as the quick eye of the emperor detected this sign of
impending disaster, he half-started from his chair. His hand sought his side; in his e=
yes shone
a steely light. The prelate q=
uickly
crossed himself and raised his head as if in prayer.
"The penance, Sire," he murmured, but
his voice trembled.
Mechanically Charles replaced his blade. "Yea; better a kingdom lost,&=
quot; he
muttered, "than a broken vow."
Yet, after so many battles won in the field and
Diet; after titanic contests with kings in Christendom, and Solyman in the =
east,
to fall, by the mockery of fate, into the grasp of a thieving mountain rifl=
er--
"Ambition! power! we sow but the sand,&qu=
ot;
whispered satiety.
"Vainglory is a sleeveless errand,"
murmured the spirit of the flagellant.
Yet he gazed half-fiercely at his priestly
adviser, when suddenly his gloomy eye brightened; the inutility of ambition=
was
forgotten; unconsciously he clasped the arm of the joculatrix, who had drawn
near. His grip was like a gauntlet; even in her tense, strained mood she wi=
nced.
"The fight is not yet lost!" he
exclaimed. As he spoke the fi=
gure
of a knight, fully armed, who had made his way through the avenue of tents,=
was
seen swiftly descending the hill.
Upon his strong Arabian steed, the rider's appearance and bearing
signaled him as a soldier apart from the rank and file of the guard. His coat-of-arms, that of the hous=
e of Friedwald,
was richly emblazoned upon the housings of his courser. Whence had he
come? The attendants and eque=
rries
had not seen him in the camp. Only
the taciturn armorer of Friedwald looked complacently after him, stroking h=
is
great beard, as one well satisfied.
As this late-comer approached the scene of strife the flanks of the
guard were wavering yet more perilously.
"A miracle, Sire!" cried the prelate=
.
"But one that partakes more of earth than
Heaven," retorted Charles, with ready irony.
"Who is he, Sire?" breathlessly asked
the young girl. At her feet w=
himpered
the blue-eyed page, holding to her skirt, all his courage gone.
But ere he could answer--if he had seen fit to=
do
so--from below, out of the vortex, came the clamorous shouts:
"The duke! The duke!"
The master of the mountain pass heard also, and
felt at that moment a sudden thrill of premonition. The guerdon; the quittance; could =
it be possible
after all, the end was not far? He
could not believe it, yet a paroxysm of fury seized him; his strength became
redoubled; wherever his sword touched a trooper fell.
But like a wave, recovering from the recoil, t=
he
soldiers of Friedwald broke upon his doomed band with a force manifold
augmented; broke and carried the flanks with it, for the assaulting parties=
to
the right and left were dismayed by the strength unexpectedly hurled against
the center. The bulky Flemish=
, the
lithe Spaniard, the lofty trooper of Friedwald, overflowed the shattered li=
ne
of the marauders.
"Duke Robert!" and
"Friedwald!" shouted the Austrian band.
"Cowards! Would you give way?" cried th=
e free
baron, striking among them.
"Fools! Better the
sword than the rope. Come!&qu=
ot;
But in his frenzied efforts to rally his men t=
he
master of Hochfels found himself face to face with the leader of the already
victorious troops. At the sig=
ht of
him the bastard paused; his breast rose and fell with his labored breathing;
his sword was dyed red, also his arms, his clothes; from his forehead the b=
lood
ran down over his beard. His =
eyes
rolled like those of an animal; he seemed something inhuman; an incarnation=
of
baffled purpose.
"If it is reprisal you want, Sir Duke, you
shall have it," he panted.
"Reprisal!" exclaimed Robert of
Friedwald, scornfully. "=
The
best you can offer is your life."
And with that they closed. Evading the strokes of his more bu=
lky antagonist,
the younger man's sword repeatedly sought the vulnerable part of the other's
armor. The free baron's stren=
gth
became exhausted; his blows rang harmlessly, or struck the empty air.
A sensation of pain admonished him of his own
disability. About him his ban=
d had
melted away; doggedly had they given up their lives beneath sword, mace and
poniard. The ground was strew=
n with
the slain; riderless horses were galloping up the road. The free baron breathed yet harder;
before his eyes he seemed to see only blood.
Of what avail had been his efforts? He had won the princess, but how b=
rief
had been his triumphs! With a
belief that was almost superstition, he had imagined his destiny lay
thronewards. But the curse of=
his
birth had been a ban to his efforts; the bitterness of defeat smote him.
"I am sped!" he cried; "sped!&q=
uot;
and released his hold, while the tide of conflict appeared abruptly to sweep
away.
As he struck the earth an ornament that he had
worn about his neck became unfastened and dropped to the ground. But once he moved; to raise himsel=
f on
his elbow.
"The hazard of the die!" he muttered,
striving to see with eyes that were growing blind. A rush of blood interrupted him, h=
e fell
back, straightened out, and stirred no more.
Now had the din of strife ceased altogether, w=
hen
descending the slope appeared a cavalcade, at the head of which rode a lady=
on
a white palfrey, followed by several maids and guarded by an escort of sold=
iers
who wore the king's own colors. A
stricken procession it seemed as it drew near, the faces of the women white
with fear; the gay attire and gorgeous trappings--a mockery on that ensangu=
ined
arena.
Proudly proceeded the lady on the white horse,
although in her eyes shone a look of dread. It was an age when women were accu=
stomed
to scenes of bloodshed, inured to conflicts in the lists; yet she shuddered=
as
her palfrey picked its way across that field. At the near side of the hollow her
glance singled out a motionless figure among those lying where they had fal=
len,
a thick-set man, whose face was upturned to the sky. One look into those glassy eyes, so
unresponsive to her own, and she quickly dismounted and fell on her knees
beside the recumbent form. Sh=
e took
one of the cold hands in hers, but dropped it with a scream.
"Dead!" she cried; "dead!"=
The lady stared at that terribly repulsive
face. For some moments she se=
emed
dazed; sat there dully, the onlookers forbearing to disturb her. Then her g=
aze
encountered that of him who had slain the free baron and she sprang to her
feet. On her features an expr=
ession
of bewilderment had been followed by one of recognition.
"The duke's fool!" she exclaimed
wildly. "He is dead, and=
you
have killed him! The fool has
murdered his master."
"It is true he is dead," answered the
other, leaning heavily on his sword and surveying the inanimate form, "=
;but
he was no master of mine."
"That, Madame la Princesse, we will also
affirm," broke in an austere voice.
Behind them rode the emperor, a dark figure am=
ong
those bright gowns and golden trappings, the saddle cloth and adornments of=
his
steed somber as his own garments.
As he spoke he waved back the cavalcade, and, in obedience to the
gesture, the ladies, soldiers and attendants withdrew to a discreet
distance. Bitterly the prince=
ss
surveyed the monarch; overwrought, a torrent of reproaches sprang from her
lips.
"Why has your Majesty made war on my
lord? Why have you countenanc=
ed his
enemies and harbored his murderers?"&=
nbsp;
And then, drawing her figure to its full height, her tawny hair fall=
ing
in a cloud about her shoulders: "Be sure, Sire, my kinsman, the king, =
will
know how to avenge my wrongs."
"He can not, Madam," answered Charles
coldly. "They are alread=
y avenged."
"Already avenged!" she exclaimed, wi=
th
her gaze upon the prostrate figure.
"Yes, Madam. For he who hath injured you has pa=
id the
extreme penalty."
"He who was my husband has been foully
murdered!" she retorted, vehemently.&=
nbsp;
"What had the Duke of Friedwald done to bring upon himself your
Majesty's displeasure?"
"Nothing," answered the emperor, more
gently.
"Nothing! And yet he lies there--dead!"=
"He who lies before you is not the duke, =
but
Louis of Hochfels, the bastard of Pfalz-Urfeld."
"Ah," she cried, excitedly, "I =
see
you have been listening to the false fool, his murderer."
An expression of annoyance appeared on the
emperor's face. He liked not =
to be
crossed at any time by any one.
"You have well called him the false fool,
Madam," said Charles, curtly, "for he is no true fool."
"And yet he rode with your troops!"<= o:p>
"To redeem his honor, Madam."
"His honor!"
With a scornful face she approached nearer to =
the
monarch.
"His honor! In God's name, what mean you?"=
;
"That the false fool, Madam, is himself t=
he
Duke of Friedwald!"
=
"The Duke of Friedwald!"
It was not the princess who thus exclaimed, but
Jacqueline. Charles had spoken
loudly, and, drawn irresistibly to the scene, she had caught his significant
words at the moment she recognized, in his brave accoutrements, him whom sh=
e had
known as the duke's fool.
When she had heard, above the din of the fray,=
the
cries with which the new-comer had been greeted, no suspicion of his identi=
ty
had crossed her mind. She had
wondered, been puzzled at the unexpected appearance of Robert, Duke of
Friedwald, but that he and the ailing fool were one and the same was wide f=
rom
her field of speculation. In
amazement, she regarded the knight who had turned the tide of conflict, and
then started, noticing the colors he wore, a paltry yellow ribbon on his ar=
m,
the badge of her office. Much=
she
had not understood now appeared plain.&nbs=
p;
His assurance in Fools' hall; his reckless daring; his skill with the
sword. He was a soldier, not a
jester; a lord, not a lord's servant.
Lost in no less wonder, the princess gazed from
the free baron to Charles, and back again to the lifeless form. Stooping, she looked steadfastly i=
nto
the face, as though she would read its secret. Perhaps, too, as she studied
those features, piece by piece she patched together the scenes of the
past. Her own countenance beg=
an to
harden, as though some part of that mask of death had fallen upon her, and =
when
she glanced once more at the emperor they saw she no longer doubted. With
forced self-control, she turned to the emperor.
"Doubtless, it is some brave pastime,&quo=
t;
she said to Charles. "Wi=
ll
your Majesty deign to explain?"
"Nay," answered the emperor, dryly;
"that thankless task I'll leave to him who played the fool."
Uncovering, the Duke of Friedwald approached.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The excitement of the contest over=
, his
pallid features marked the effects of his recent injuries, the physical str=
ain
under which he had labored. H=
er
cold eyes swept over him haughtily, inquiringly.
"For the part I have played, Madam,"=
he
said, "I ask your forbearance. If we both labored under a delusion, I =
have
only regret--"
"Regret!" Was it an outburst of grief, or wo=
unded
pride? He flushed, but contin=
ued
firmly:
"Madame la Princesse, when first a marria=
ge
was proposed between us I was younger in experience if not in years than I =
am
now; more used to the bivouac or hunters' camps than courts. And woman--" he smiled--"=
;well,
she was a vague ideal. At tim=
es,
she came to me when sleeping before the huntsman's fire in the solitudes of=
the
forest; again, was reflected from the pages of classic lore. She seemed a part of the woods and=
the
streams, for by ancient art had she not been turned into trees and running
brooks? So she whispered in t=
he
boughs and murmured among the rushes.
Mere Schwärmerei. Do
you care to hear? 'Tis the on=
ly
defense I can offer."
Her contemptuous blue eyes remained fastened on
him; she disdained to answer.
"It was a dreamer from brake and copse who
went in the disguise of a jester to be near her; to win her for himself--and
then, declare his identity. W=
ell
may you look scornful. Love!-=
-it is
not such a romantic quality--at court.&nbs=
p;
A momentary pastime, perhaps, but--a deep passion--a passion stronger
than rank, than death, than all--"
Above the face of her whom he addressed his gl=
ance
rested upon Jacqueline, and he paused.&nbs=
p;
The princess could but note, and a derisive expression crept about h=
er
mouth.
"Once I would have told you all," he
resumed. "That night--wh=
en you
were Lady of the Lists. But--=
"
He broke off abruptly, wishing to spare her the
bitter memory of her own acts. Did
she remember that day, when she had been queen of the chaplet? When she had crowned him whom now =
death
and dishonor had overtaken?
"The rest, Madam, you know--save
this." And stooping, he =
picked
up the ornament that had dropped from Louis of Hochfels' neck. "Here, Princess, is the minia=
ture
you sent me. He, who used you=
so
ill, stole it from me in prison; through it, he recognized the fool for the
duke; with an assassin's blow he struck me down."
A moment he looked at that fair painted
semblance. Did it recall the =
past
too vividly? His face showed =
no
pain; only tranquillity. His =
eye was
rather that of a connoisseur than a lover.=
He smiled gently; then held it to her.
Mechanically she let the portrait slip through=
her
fingers, and it fell to the moistened grass near the form of him who had we=
dded
her. Then she drew back her d=
ress
so that it might not touch the body at her feet.
"Have I your Majesty's permission to
withdraw?" she said, coldly.
"If you will not accept our poor escort to
the king," answered Charles.
"My ladies and myself will dispense with =
so
much honor, Sire," she returned.
"Such service as we can command is at your
disposal, Madam," he repeated.
"It is not far distant to the châte=
au,
Sire."
"As you will," said the emperor.
With no further word she bowed deeply, turned,=
and
slowly retracing her steps, mounted her horse, and rode away, followed by h=
er
maids and the troopers of France.
As she disappeared, without one backward glanc=
e, the
duke gazed quickly toward the spot where Jacqueline had been standing. He remembered the young girl had h=
eard
his story; he had caught her eyes upon him while he was telling it; very de=
ep,
serious, judicial, they seemed.
Were they weighing his past infatuation for the princess; holding the
scales to his acts? Swiftly he
turned to her now, but she had vanished.&n=
bsp;
Save for rough nurses, companions in arms, moving here and there amo=
ng
the wounded, he and the emperor stood alone. In the bushes a bird which had lef=
t a
nest of fledglings returned and caroled among the boughs; a clarifying melo=
dy
after the mad passions of the day.
The elder man noted the direction of the duke's glance, the yellow
ribbon on his arm.
"So it was a jestress, not a princess you
found, thou dreamer," he said, half-ironically.
"The daughter of the Constable of Dubrois,
Sire," was the reply.
The emperor nodded. "The family colors have
changed," he observed dryly.
"With fortune, Sire."
"Truly," said Charles, "fortune=
is
a jestress. She had like to p=
lay on
us this day. But your fever?&=
quot;
he added, abruptly, setting his horse's head toward camp.
"Is gone, Sire," answered the duke,
riding by his side.
"And your injuries?"
"Were so slight they are forgotten."=
"Then is the breath of battle better medi=
cine
than nostrum or salve. In youth, 'tis the sword-point; in age, turn we to t=
he
hilt-cross. But this maid--ha=
ve you
won her?"
The young man changed color. "Won her, Sire?" he
replied. "That I know no=
t--no
word has passed--"
"No word," said the emperor,
doubtingly. "A knight-er=
rant
and a castleless maid!"
The duke vouchsafed no answer.
"Humph!" added Charles. "Thus do our plans come to
naught. If you got her, and w=
ore
her, what end would be served?"
"No end of state, perhaps, Sire."
"Why," observed the monarch, "t=
he
state and the faith--what else is there?&n=
bsp;
But go your way. How s=
mooth
it may be no man can tell."
"Is the road like to be rougher than it h=
as
been, Sire?"
"The maid belongs to France," answer=
ed
Charles, "and France belongs to the king."
"The king!" exclaimed the duke,
fiercely.
Involuntarily had they drawn rein in the shade=
of
a tiny thicket overlooking the valley.&nbs=
p;
Even from this slight exercise, bowed and weary appeared the emperor=
's
form. The hand which controll=
ed his
steed trembled, but the lines of his face spoke of unweakened sinew of spir=
it,
the iron grip of a will that only death might loosen.
"The king!" repeated the young man.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> "He is no king of mine, nor h=
ers. To
you, Sire, only, I owe allegiance, or my life, at your need."
A gentler expression softened the emperor's
features, as a gleam of sunshine forces itself into the somberest forest
depths.
"We have had our need," he said. "Not long since."
His glance swept the outlook below. "Heaven watches over
monarchs," he added, turning a keen, satirical look on the other,
"but through the vigilance of our earthly servitors."
The duke's response was interrupted by the
appearance below of a horseman, covered with dust, riding toward them, and
urging his weary steed up the incline with spur and voice. Deliberately the monarch surveyed =
the
new-comer.
"What make you of yonder fellow?" he
said. "He is not of the =
guard,
nor of the bastard's following."
"His housings are the color of France,
Sire."
"Then can I make a shrewd guess of his
purpose," observed the monarch.
As he spoke the horseman drew nearer and a mom=
ent
later had stopped before the emperor.
"A message from the king, Sire!"
exclaimed the man, dismounting and kneeling to present a formidable-looking
document, with a great disk of lead through which a silken string was drawn=
.
Breaking the seal, the emperor opened the
missive. "It is well,&qu=
ot; he
said at length, folding the parchment.&nbs=
p;
"The king was even on his way to the château to await our
coming, when he met Caillette and received our communication. Go you to the camp"--to the
messenger--"where we shall presently return." And as the man rode away: "Th=
e king
begs we will continue our journey at our leisure," he added, "and
announces he will receive us at the château."
"And have I your permission to return to
Friedwald, Sire?" asked the other in a low voice.
"Alone?"
"Nay; I would conduct the constable's
daughter there to safety."
"And thus needlessly court Francis'
resentment? Not yet."
The young man said no word, but his face harde=
ned.
"Tut!" said the emperor, dryly, alth=
ough
not unkindly. "Where's f=
ealty now? Fine words; fine words! A slender chit of a maid, forsooth=
. Without
lands, without dowry; with naught--save herself."
"Is she not enough, Sire?"
"Francis is more easily disarmed in his o=
wn
castle by his own hospitality than in the battle-field," observed Char=
les,
without replying to this question.
"In field have we conquered him; in palace hath he conquered
himself, and our friendship.
Therefore you and the maid return in our train to the king's
court."
"At your order, Sire."
But the young man's voice was cold, ominous.
=
Thus it befell that both Robert of Friedwald a=
nd
Jacqueline accompanied the emperor to the little town, the scene of their l=
ate
adventures, and that they who had been fool and joculatrix rode once more
through the street they had ne'er expected to see again. The flags were flying; cannon boom=
ed;
they advanced beneath wreaths of roses, the way paved with flowers. Standing at the door of his inn, t=
he
landlord dropped his jaw in amazement as his glance fell upon the jestress =
and
her companion behind the great emperor himself. His surprise, too, was abruptly vo=
iced
by a ragged, wayworn person not far distant in the crowd, whose fingers had
been busy about the pockets of his neighbors; fingers which had a deft habi=
t of
working by themselves, while his eyes were bent elsewhere and his lips join=
ed
in the general acclaim; fingers which like antennas seemed to have a special
intelligence of their own. Now those long weapons of abstraction and
appropriation ceased their deft work; he became all eyes.
"Good lack! Who may the noble gentleman behind=
the
emperor be?" he exclaimed.
"Surely 'tis the duke's fool."
"And ride with the emperor?" said a
burly citizen at his elbow.
"'Tis thou who art the fool."
"Truly I think so," answered the
other. "I see; believe; =
but
may not understand."
At that moment the duke's gaze in passing chan=
ced
to rest upon the pinched and over-curious face of the scamp-student; a glea=
m of
recollection shone in his glance.
"Gladius gemmatus!" cried the scholar, and a smile on the
noble's countenance told him he had heard. Turning the problem in his mind,=
the
vagrant-philosopher forgot about pilfering and the procession itself, when a
soldier touched him roughly on the shoulder.
"Are you the scamp-student?" said the
trooper.
"Now they'll hang me with these spoils in=
my
pockets," thought the scholar.
But as bravely as might be, he replied: "The former I am; the l=
atter
I would be."
"Then the Duke of Friedwald sent me to gi=
ve
you this purse," remarked the man, suiting the action to the word. "He bade me say 'tis to take =
the
place of a bit of silver you once did not earn." And the trooper vanished.
"Well-a-day!" commented the burly
citizen, regarding the gold pieces and the philosopher in wonderment of his
own. "You may be a fool,=
but you
must be an honest knave."
At the château the meeting between the t=
wo
monarchs was unreservedly cordial on both sides. They spoke with satisfaction of the
peace now existing between them and of other matters social and political.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The emperor deplored deeply the un=
timely
demise of Francis' son, Charles, who had caught the infection of plague whi=
le
sleeping at Abbeville. Later the misalliance of the princess was cautiously
touched upon. That lady, said Francis gravely, to whom the gaieties of the
court at the present time could not fail to be distasteful, had left the
château immediately upon her return.=
Ever of a devout mind, she had repaired to a convent and announced h=
er
intention of devoting herself, and her not inconsiderable fortune, to a hig=
her
and more spiritual life. Charles, who at that period of his lofty estates
himself hesitated between the monastery and the court, applauded her
resolution, to which the king perfunctorily and but half-heartedly responde=
d.
Shortly after, the emperor, fatigued by his
journey, begged leave to retire to his apartments, whither he went, accompa=
nied
by his "brother of France" and followed by his attendants. At the door Francis, with many
expressions of good will, took leave of his royal guest for the time being,
and, turning, encountered the Duke of Friedwald.
Francis, himself once accustomed to assume the
disguise of an archer of the royal guard the better to pursue his love foll=
ies
among the people, now gazed curiously upon one who had befooled the entire
court.
"You took your departure, my Lord," =
said
the king, quietly, "without waiting for the order of your going."=
"He who enacts the fool, your Majesty,
without patent to office must needs have good legs," replied the young
man. "Else will he have =
his fingers
burnt."
"Only his fingers?" returned the mon=
arch
with a smile, somewhat sardonic.
"Truly," thought the other, as Franc=
is
strode away, "the king regrets the fool's escape from Notre Dame and t=
he
fagots."
During the next day Charles called first for h=
is
leech and then for a priest, but whether the former or the latter, or both,
temporarily assuaged the restlessness of mortal disease, that night he was
enabled to be present at the character dances given in his honor by the lad=
ies of
the court in the great gallery of the château.
At a signal from the cornet, gitterns, violas =
and
pipes began to play, and Francis and his august guest, accompanied by Queen
Eleanor, and the emperor's sister, Marguerite of Navarre, entered the hall,
followed by the dauphin and Catharine de Medici, Diane de Poitiers, the
Duchesse d'Etampes; marshal, chancellor and others of the king's friends an=
d counselors;
courtiers, poets, jesters, philosophers; a goodly company, such as few mona=
rchs
could summon at their beck and call.
Charles' eye lighted; even his austere nature momentarily kindled am=
id
that brilliant spectacle; Francis' palace of pleasure was an intoxicating a=
ntidote
to spleen or hypochondria. An=
d when
the court ladies, in a dazzling band, appeared in the dance, led by the
Duchesse d'Etampes, he openly expressed his approval.
"Ah, Madam," he said to the Queen of
Navarre, "there is little of the monastery about our good brother's
court."
"Did your Majesty expect we should cloist=
er
you?" she answered, with a lively glance.
He gazed meditatively upon the "Rose of
Valois," or the "Pearl of the Valois," as she was sometimes
called; then a shadow fell upon him; the futility of ambition; the emptines=
s of
pleasure. In scanty attire, t=
he Duchesse
d'Etampes, with the king, flashed before him; the former, all beauty, all
grace, her little feet trampling down care, so lightly. Somberly he watched
her, and sighed. Mentally he
compared himself to Francis; they had traveled the road of life together,
discarding their youth at the same turn of the highway; yet here was his Fr=
ench
brother, indefatigable in the pursuit of merriment, while his own soul sang=
miséréré
to the tune of Francis' fiddles.
Yet, had he overheard the conversation of the favorite and the king,=
the
emperor's moodiness would not, perhaps, have been unmixed with a stronger f=
eeling.
"Sire," the duchess was saying in her
most persuasive manner, "while you have Charles--once your keeper--in =
your
power, here in the château, you will surely punish him for the past a=
nd
avenge yourself? You will mak=
e him
revoke the treaty of Madrid, or shut him up in one of Louis XI's
oubliettes?"
"I will persuade him if I can," repl=
ied
the king coldly, "but never force him. My honor, Madam, is dearer to me t=
han my
interests."
The favorite said no more of a cherished proje=
ct,
knowing Francis' temper and his stubbornness when crossed. She merely shrugged her white shou=
lders
and watched him closely. The
monarch had not scrupled once to break his covenant with Charles, holding t=
hat
treaties made under duress, by force majeure, were legally void, while
now-- But the king was compos=
ed of
contradictions, or--was her own influence waning?
She had observed a new expression cross his
countenance when in the retinue of the emperor he had noted the daughter of=
the
constable; such a tenderness as she remembered at Bayonne when the king had
looked upon her, the duchess, for the first time. When she next spoke her words were=
the
outcome of this train of thought.
"To think the jestress, Jacqueline, should
turn out the daughter of that traitor, the Constable of Dubrois," she
observed, keenly.
"A traitor, certainly," said Francis,
"but also a brave man. P=
erhaps
we pressed him too hard," he added retrospectively. "We were young in years and
hot-tempered."
"Your Majesty remembers the girl--a
dark-browed, bold creature?" remarked the duchess, smiling amiably.
"Dark-browed, perhaps, Madam; but I obser=
ved
nothing bold in her demeanor," answered the king.
"What! a jestress and not bold! A girl who frequented Fools' hall;=
who ran
away from court with the plaisant!"&n=
bsp;
She glanced at him mischievously, like a wilful child, but before his
frown the smile faded; involuntarily she clenched her hands.
"Madam," he replied cynically, "=
;I
have always noticed that women are poor judges of their own sex."
And conducting her to a seat, he raised her
jeweled fingers perfunctorily to his lips, and, wheeling abruptly, left her=
.
"Ah!" thought Triboulet, ominously, =
who
had been closely observing them, "the king is much displeased."
Had the duchess observed the monarch's lack of=
warmth? At any rate, somewhat perplexedly =
she
regarded the departing figure of the king; then humming lightly, turned to a
mirror to adjust a ringlet which had fallen from the golden net binding her
tresses.
"Mère de Dieu! woman never held
man--or king--by sighing," she thought, and laughed, remembering the
Countess of Châteaubriant; a veritable Niobe when the monarch had sent
her home.
But Triboulet drew a wry face; his little heart
was beating tremulously; dark shadows crossed his mind. Two portentous stars had appeared =
in the
horoscope of his destiny: he who had been the foreign fool; she who was the
daughter of the constable. Al=
most
fiercely the hunchback surveyed the beautiful woman before him. With her downfall would come his o=
wn,
and he believed the king had wearied of her. How hateful was her fair face to h=
im at
that moment! Already in imagi=
nation
he experienced the bitterness of the fall from his high estates, and
shudderingly looked back to his own lowly beginning: a beggarly street-play=
er
of bagpipes; ragged, wretched, importuning passers-by for coppers; reviled =
by
every urchin. But she, meetin=
g his glance
and reading his thought, only clapped her hands recklessly.
"How unhappy you look," she said.
"Madam, do you think the duke--" he
began.
"I think he will cut off your head,"=
she
exclaimed, and Triboulet turned yellow; but a few moments later took heart,=
the
duchess was so lightsome.
"By my sword--if I had one--our jestress =
has
made a triumphant return," commented Caillette as he stood with the Du=
ke
of Friedwald near one of the windows, surveying the animated scene. "Already are some of the ladi=
es
jealous as Barbary pigeons. H=
er
appearance has been remarked by the Duc de Montrin and other gentlemen in
attendance, and--look! Now the
great De Guise approaches her. Here
one belongs to everybody."
The other did not answer and Caillette glanced
quickly at him. "You wil=
l not
think me over-bold," he went on, after a moment's hesitation, "if=
I
mention what is being whispered--by them?" including in a look and the
uplifting of his eyebrows the entire court. The duke laid his hand warmly on t=
he
shoulder of the poet-fool. &q=
uot;Is
there not that between us which precludes the question?"
"I should not venture to speak about
it," continued Caillette, meeting the duke's gaze frankly, "but t=
hat
you once honored me with your confidence.&=
nbsp;
That I was much puzzled when I met you and--our erstwhile jestress--=
matters
not. 'Twas for me to dismiss =
my
wonderment, and not strive to reconcile my neighbor's affairs. But when I hear every one talking =
about
my--friend, it is no gossip's task to come to him with the unburdening of t=
he
prattle."
"What are they saying, Caillette?" a=
sked
the duke, in his eyes a darker look.
"That you would wed this maid, but that t=
he king
will use his friendly offices with Charles to prevent it."
"And do they say why Francis will so use =
his
influence?" continued the other.
"Because of the claim such a union might =
give
an alien house to a vast estate in France; the confiscated property of the
Constable of Dubrois. And--but the other reason is but babble, malice--what=
you
will." And Caillette's m=
anner
quickly changed from grave to frivolous.&n=
bsp;
"Now, au revoir; I'm off to Fools' hall," he concluded.
Thoughtfully the duke continued to observe the jestress. Between them whirle= d the votaries of pleasure; before him swept the fragrance of delicate perfumes; = in his ears sounded the subtile enticement of soft laughter. Her face wore a proud, self-reliant expression; her eyes that look which had made her seem so illusive from the inception of their acquaintance. And now, since his identity had been revealed, she had seemed more p= uzzling to him than ever. When he had sought her glance, her look had told him nothing. It was as though with the doffing = of the motley she had discarded its recollections. In a tentative mood, he had strive= n to fathom her, but found himself at a loss.&n= bsp; She had been neither reserved, nor had she avoided him; to her the p= ast seemed a page, lightly read and turned.&nb= sp; Had Caillette truly said "now she belonged to the world"?<= o:p>
Stepping upon one of the balconies overlooking=
the
valley, the duke gazed out over the tranquil face of nature, his figure dra=
wn
aside from the flood of light within.
Between heaven and earth, the château reared its stately pile,=
and
far downward those twinkling flashes represented the town; yonder faint lin=
e,
like a dark thread, the encircling wall.&n=
bsp;
Above the gate shone a glimmer from the narrow casement of some
officer's quarters; and the jester's misgivings when they had ridden beneath
the portcullis into the town for the first time, recurred to him; also, the
glad haste with which they had sped away.
Memories of dangers, of the free and untrammel=
ed
character of their wandering, that day-to-day intimacy, and night-to-night
consciousness of her presence haunted him.=
Her loyalty, her fine sense of comradeship, her inherent tenderness,=
had
been revealed to him. Still he
seemed to feel himself the jester, in the gathering of fools, and she a
ministralissa, with dark, deep eyes that baffled him.
The sound of voices near the window aroused him
from this field of speculation, voices that abruptly riveted his attention =
and
held it: the king's and Jacqueline's.
The young man's brow drew dark; tumultuous
thoughts filled his brain; Caillette's words, Brusquet's rhymes, confirming=
his
own conviction, rankled in his mind.
This king dared arrogate a law absolute unto himself; its statutes, =
his
own caprices; its canons, his own pretensions? The duke remembered the young girl=
's
outburst against the monarch and a feeling of hatred arose in his breast; h=
is
hand involuntarily sought his sword, the blade of Francis' implacable enemy=
.
"We have heard your story, my child, from= our brother, the emperor," the king was saying, "and although your fa= ther rebelled against his monarch, we harbor it not against the daughter."<= o:p>
"Sire," she answered, in a low tone,
"I regret the emperor should have acquainted you with this matter.&quo=
t;
"You have no cause for fear," Francis
replied, misinterpreting her words.
She offered no response, and the duke, moving into the light, observ=
ed
the king was regarding the young girl intently, his tall figure conspicuous
above the courtiers.
Flushed, Jacqueline looked down; the white-rob=
ed
form, however, very straight and erect; her hair, untrammeled with the extr=
eme
conventions of the day; a single flower a spot of color amid its
abundance. Even the
duchess--bejeweled, bedecked, tricked out--in her own mind had pronounced t=
he
young girl beautiful, and there surely was no mistaking the covert admirati=
on
of the monarch as his glance encompassed her. Despite her assumed composure=
, it
was obvious to the duke, however, that only by a strong effort had she nerv=
ed
herself to that evening's task; the red hue on her cheeks, the brightness of
her eyes, told of the suppressed excitement her manner failed to betray.
"Why should you leave with Charles?"
continued Francis. "Perh=
aps
were we over-hasty in confiscating the castle of the constable. Vrai Dieu," he added,
meditatively. "Had he un=
bent
but a little! Marguerite told us we were driving him to despair, but the qu=
een
regent and the rest of our counselors prevailed--" He broke off abruptly and directed=
a
bolder gaze to hers. "Ma=
y not
a monarch, Mademoiselle, undo what he has done?"
"Even a king can not give life to the
dead," she replied, and her voice sounded hard and unyielding.
"No," he assented, moodily, "bu=
t it
would not be impossible to restore the castle--to his daughter."
"Sire!" she exclaimed in surprise; t=
hen
shook her head. "With yo=
ur Majesty's
permission, I shall leave with the emperor."
Francis made an impatient movement; her
inflexibility recalled one who long ago had renounced his fealty to the thr=
one;
her resistance kindled the flame that had been smoldering in his breast.
"But if I have pointed out to the emperor
that your proper station is here?" he went on. "If he recognizes that it wou=
ld be
to your disadvantage to divert that destiny which lies in France?"
His words were measured; his manner tinged with
seeming paternal interest; but, as through a mask, she discerned his face,
cynical, libidinous, the countenance of a Sybarite, not a king. The air became stifling; the ribal=
dry of
laughter enveloped her; instinctively she glanced around, and her restless,
troubled gaze fell upon the duke.
What was it he read in her eyes? A confession of insecurity, fear; =
a mute
appeal? Before it all his dou=
bts
and misgivings vanished; the look they exchanged was like that when she had
stood on the staircase in the inn.
Upon the monarch, engrossed in his purpose, it=
was
lost. If silence give consent=
, then
had she already acquiesced in a wish which, from a king, became a demand. But Francis, ever complaisant, wit=
h an inconsistent
chivalry worthy of the subterfuge of his character, desired to appear
forbearing, indulgent.
"For your own sake," he added,
"must we refuse that permission you ask of us."
She did not answer, and, noting the direction =
of
her gaze, the eager expectancy written on her face, Francis turned
sharply. At the same time the=
duke
stepped forward.
The benignity faded from the king's manner; his
countenance, which "at no time would have made a man's fortune,"
became rancorous, caustic; the corners of his mouth appeared almost updrawn=
to
his nostrils. He had little r=
eason
to care for the duke, and this interruption, so flagrant, menacing almost, =
did
not tend to enhance his regard. In nowise
daunted, the young man stood before him.
"I trust, Sire, your Majesty will reconsi=
der
your decision?"
With a strained look the young girl regarded
them. To what new dangers had=
she
summoned him? Was not she, the
duke, even the emperor himself, in the power of the king, for the present at
least? And knowing well Franc=
is'
headstrong passions, his violence when crossed, it was not strange at that
moment her heart sank; she felt on the brink of an abyss; a nameless peril
toward which she had drawn the companion of her flight. It seemed an endless interval befo=
re the
monarch spoke.
"Ah, you heard!" remarked Francis at
length, satirically.
"Inadvertently, Sire," answered the
duke. His voice was steady, h=
is face
pale, but in his blue eyes a glint as of fire came and went. Self-assurance
marked his bearing; dignity, pride.
He looked not at the young girl, but calmly met the scrutiny of the
king. The latter surveyed him=
from
head to foot; then suddenly stared hard at a sword whose hilt gleamed even
brighter than his own, and was fashioned in a form that recalled not
imperfectly a hazard of other days.
"Where did you get that blade?" he
asked, abruptly.
"From the daughter of the Constable of
Dubrois."
"Why did she give it to you?"
"To protect her, Sire."
The monarch's countenance became more thoughtf=
ul;
less acrimonious. How the present seemed involved in the past! Were kings, then, enmeshed in the =
web of
their own acts? Were even the=
gods
not exempt from retributory justice?
Those were days of superstition, when a coincidence assumed the
importance of inexorable destiny.
"Once was it drawn against me," said
Francis, reflectively.
"I trust, Sire, it may never again be dra=
wn
by an enemy of your Majesty."
The king did not reply, but stood as a man who=
yet
took counsel with himself.
"By what right," he asked, finally,
"do you speak for the lady?"
A
moment the duke looked disconcerted.
"By what right?"
Then swiftly he regarded the girl. As quickly--a flash it seemed--her=
dark
eyes made answer, their language more potent than words. He could but understand; doubt and
misgiving were forgotten; the hesitation vanished from his manner. Hastily crossing to her side, he t=
ook
her hand and unresistingly it lay in his.&=
nbsp;
His heart beat faster; her sudden acquiescence filled him with wonde=
r;
at the same time, his task seemed easier.&=
nbsp;
To protect her now! Th=
e king
coughed ironically, and the duke turned from her to him.
"By what right, your Majesty?" he sa=
id
in a voice which sounded different to Francis. "This lady is my affianced br=
ide,
Sire."
Pique, umbrage, mingled in the expression which
replaced all other feeling on the king's countenance as he heard this
announcement. With manifest d=
ispleasure
he looked from one to the other.
"Is this true, Mademoiselle?" he ask=
ed,
sternly.
Her cheek was red, but she held herself bravel=
y.
"Yes, Sire," she said.
A new emotion leaped to the duke's face as he
heard her lips thus fearlessly confirm the answer of her eyes. And so before the monarch--in that=
court
which Marguerite called the Court of Love--they plighted their troth.
Something in their manner, however, puzzled the
observant king; an exaltation, perhaps, uncalled for by the simple telling =
of a
secret understanding between them; that rapid interchange of glances; that =
significance
of manner when the duke stepped to her side. Francis bit his lips.
"Ma foi!" he exclaimed, sharply. "This is somewhat abrupt. How long, my Lord, since she promi=
sed to
be your wife?"
"Since your Majesty spoke," returned=
the
duke, tranquilly.
"And before that?"
"Before?=
I only knew that I loved her, Sire."
"And now you know, for the first time, th=
at
she loves you?" added the king, dryly. "But the emperor--are you not
presuming overmuch that he will give his consent? Or think you"--with fine
irony--"that marriages of state are made in Heaven?"
"It was once my privilege, Sire, so to se= rve the emperor, as his Majesty thought, that he bade me ask of him what I woul= d, when I would. Heretofore have I had nothing to ask; now, everything."<= o:p>
Some of the asperity faded from Francis'
glance. The situation appeale=
d to
his strong penchant for merry plaisanterie. Besides--such was his overweeni=
ng
pride--to hear a woman confess she cared for another dampened his own ardor,
instead of stimulating it. "None but himself could be his parallel;&qu=
ot;
the royal lover could brook no rival.
Had she merely desired to marry the former fool--the Countess of
Châteaubriant had had a husband--but to love him!
After all, she was but an audacious slip of a
girl; a dark-browed, bold gipsy; by nature, intended for the motley--yes, t=
he
Duchesse d'Etampes was right. Then,
he liked not her parentage; she was a constant reminder of one who had been
like to make vacant the throne of France, and to destroy, root and branch, =
the
proud house of Orleans. Moreo=
ver, whispered
avarice, he would save the castle for himself; a stately and right royal
possession. He had, indeed, b=
een
over-generous in proffering it.
Love, said reason, was unstable, flitting; woman, a will-o'-the-wisp;
but a castle--its noble solidity would endure. At the same time, policy admonishe=
d the
king that the duke was a subject of his good brother, the emperor, and a ri=
ch,
powerful noble withal. So with such grace as he could command Francis greet=
ed
one whom he preferred to regard as an ally rather than an enemy.
"Truly, my Lord," he said not
discourteously, masking in a courtly manner his personal dislike for him wh=
ose
sharp criticism he once had felt in Fools' hall, "a nimble-witted jest=
er
was lost when you resumed the dignity of your position. But," he added cautiously, as=
a
sudden thought moved him, "this lady has appeared somewhat unexpectedl=
y;
the house of Friedwald is not an inconsequential one."
"What mean you, Sire?" asked the you=
ng
man, as the king paused.
Francis studied him shrewdly. "Why," he replied at len=
gth, hesitatingly,
"there is that controversy of the Constable of Dubrois; certain lands =
and
a castle, long since rightly confiscated."
"Your Majesty, there is another castle, a=
nd
lands to spare, in a distant country," returned the duke quickly. "These will suffice."
"As you will," said the king in a
livelier tone. "For the
future, command our good offices--since you have made us sponsor of your fo=
rtunes."
With which well-covered confession of his own
defeat, Francis strode away. =
As he
turned, however, he caught the smile of the Duchesse d'Etampes and crossed =
to
her graciously.
"Your dress becomes you well, Anne,"=
he
said.
She glanced down at herself demurely; her lash=
es
veiled a sudden gleam of triumph.
"How kind of you, Sire, to notice--my poor gown."
"I was right," murmured Triboulet,
joyfully, as he saw king and favorite walking together. "No one will ever replace the
duchess."
Silent, hand in hand, the duke and the joculat=
rix
stood upon the balcony. Below=
them
lay the earth, wrapped in hazy light.
Behind them, the court, with its glamour.
"Have I done well, Jacqueline, to answer =
the
king as I have done?" he said finally. "Are you content to resign
all--forever--here in France? To go with me--"
"Into a new world," she interrupted. "Once I ask= ed you to take me, but you hesitated, and were like to leave me behind you."<= o:p>
"But now 'tis I who ask," he answere=
d.
"And I--who hesitate?" looking out o=
ver
the valley, where the shadow of a cloud crossed the land.
"Do you hesitate, Jacqueline?"
She turned.&n=
bsp;
About her lips trembled the old fleeting smile.
"What woman knows her mind, Sir Fool? Yet if it were not so--"
"If it were not so?" he said, eagerl=
y.
Her eyes became grave on a sudden. "I might believe I had been o=
f one mind--long."
"Jacqueline!--sweet jestress!--"
He caught her suddenly in his arms, his fine y=
oung
features aglow. This then was the goal of his desires; a goal of delight, f=
ar,
far beyond all youthful dreams or early imaginings. With drooping eyelids, she stood i=
n his
embrace; she, once so proud, so self-willed. He drew her closer--kissed her
hair!--the rose!--
She raised her head, and--sweeter still--he ki=
ssed
her lips.
Across the valley the shadow receded;
vanished. In the full glory o=
f nightly
splendor lay the earth, and as the mystic radiance lighted up a world of
beauty, it seemed at last they beheld their world; the light more beautiful=
for
the shade and the purple mists.