The Caged Lion

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER X: THE WHITSUNTIDE FESTIVAL

  'Lady, fairest lady! Ah, suffer your slave to fall at your feet with histhanks!'

  'No thanks are due, Sir. I knew not who had fallen.'

  'Cruel coyness! Take not away the joy that has fed a hungry heart.'

  'Lord Glenuskie's heart was wont to hunger for better joys.'

  'Lady, I have ceased to be a foolish boy.'

  'Such foolishness was better than some men's wisdom.'

  'Listen, belle demoiselle. I have been forth into the world, and havelearnt to see that monasteries have become mere haunts for the sluggard,who will not face the world; and that honour, glory, and all that isworth living for, lie beyond. Ah, lady! those eyes first taught me whatlife could give.'

  'Hush, Sir!' said Esclairmonde. 'I can believe that as a child youmistook your vocation, and the secular life may be blest to you; but withme it can never be so; and if any friendship were shown to you on mypart, it was when I deemed that we were brother and sister in our vows.If I unwittingly inspired any false hopes, I must do penance for theevil.'

  'Call it not evil, lady,' entreated Malcolm. 'It cannot be evil to havewakened me to life and hope and glory.'

  'What should you call it in him who should endeavour to render Lady JoanBeaufort faithless to your king, Lord Malcolm? What then must it be totempt another to break troth-plight to the King of Heaven?'

  'Nay, madame,' faltered Malcolm; 'but if such troth were forbidden andimpossible?'

  'None has the right or power to cancel mine,' replied the lady.

  'Yet,' he still entreated, 'your kindred are mighty.'

  'But my Bridegroom is mightier,' she said.

  'O lady, yet--Say, at least,' cried Malcolm, eagerly, 'that were you freein your own mind to wed, at least you would less turn from me than fromthe others proposed to you.'

  'That were saying little for you,' said Esclairmonde, half smiling. 'But,Sir,' she added gravely, 'you have no right to put the question; and Iwill say nothing on which you can presume.'

  'You were kinder to me in England,' sighed Malcolm, with tears in hiseyes.

  'Then you seemed as one like-minded,' she answered.

  'And,' he cried, gathering fresh ardour, 'I would be like-minded again.You would render me so, sweetest lady. I would kiss your every step,pray with you, bestow alms with you, found churches, endow your Beguines,and render our change from our childish purpose a blessing to the wholeworld; become your very slave, to do your slightest bidding. O lady,could I but give you my eyes to see what it might be!'

  'It could not be, if we began with a burthened conscience,' saidEsclairmonde. 'We have had enough of this, Sieur de Glenuskie. You knowthat with me it is no matter of likes or dislikes, but that I am under avow, which I will never break! Make way, Sir.'

  He could but obey: she was far too majestic and authoritative to begainsaid. And Malcolm, in an access of misery, stood lost to all theworld, kneeling in the window-seat, where she had left him resting hishead against the glass, when suddenly a white plump hand was laid on hisshoulder, and a gay voice cried:

  'All _a la mort_, my young damoiseau! What, has our saint beenunpropitious? Never mind, you shall have her yet. We will see her likethe rest of the world, ere we have done within her!'

  And Malcolm found himself face to face with the free-spoken Jaqueline ofHainault.

  'You are very good, madame,' he stammered.

  'You shall think me very good yet! I have no notion of being opposed bya little vassal of mine; and we'll succeed, if it were but for the fun ofthe thing! Monseigneur de Therouenne is on your side, or would be, if hewere sure of the Duke of Burgundy. You see, these prelates hate nothingso much as the religious orders; and all the pride of the Luxemburgs isin arms against Clairette's fancy for those beggarly nursing Sisters; soit drives him mad to hear her say she only succoured you for charity. Hethinks it a family disgrace, that can only be wiped off by marrying herto you; and he would do it _bon gre, mal gre_, but that he waits to hearwhat Burgundy will say. You have only to hold out, and she shall beyours, if I hold her finger while you put on the ring. Only let us besure of Burgundy.'

  This was not a very flattering way of obtaining a bride; but Malcolm wasconvinced that when once married to Esclairmonde, his devotion wouldatone to her for all that was unpleasant in obtaining her. At least, sheloved no one else; she had even allowed that she had once thought himlike-minded; she had formerly distinguished him; and nothing lay betweenthem but her scruples; and when they were overcome, by whatever means,his idol would be his, to adore, to propitiate, to win by the mostintense devotion. All now must, however, turn upon the Duke of Burgundy,without whose sanction Madame of Hainault would be afraid to act openly.

  The Duke was expected at Paris for the Whitsuntide festival, which was tobe held with great state. The custom was for the Kings of France tofeast absolutely with all Paris, with interminable banquet tables, opento the whole world without question. And to this Henry had conformed onhis first visit to the city; but he had learnt that the costly and lavishfeast had been of very little benefit to the really distressed, who hadbeen thrust aside by loud-voiced miscreants and sturdy beggars, such ashad no shame in driving the feeble back with blows, and receiving theirown share again and again.

  By the advice of Dr. Bennet, his almoner, he was resolved that thisshould not happen again; that the feast should be limited to the officialguests, and that the cost of the promiscuous banquet should bedistributed to those who really needed it, and who should be reachedthrough their parish priests and the friars known to be most charitable.

  Dr. Bennet, as almoner, with the other chaplains, was to arrange thematter; and horrible was the distress that he discovered in the city,that had for five-and-twenty years been devastated by civil fury, as wellas by foreign wars; and famines, pestilences, murders, and tyrannies hadheld sway, so as to form an absolute succession of reigns of terror. Thepoor perished like flies in a frost; the homeless orphans of the parentsmurdered by either faction roamed the streets, and herded in the cornerslike the vagrant dogs of Eastern cities; and meantime, the nobles andtheir partisans revelled in wasteful pomp.

  Scholar as he was, Dr. Bennet was not familiar enough with Parisian waysnot to be very grateful for aid from Esclairmonde in some of hisconferences, and for her explanations of the different tastes and needsof French and English poor.

  What she saw and heard, on the other hand, gave form and purpose to heraspirations. The Dutch Sisters of St. Bega, the English Bedeswomen ofSt. Katharine, were sorely needed at Paris. They would gather up thesufferers, collect the outcast children, feed the hungry, follow withbalm wherever a wound had been. To found a Beguinage at Paris seemed toher the most befitting mode of devoting her wealth; and her littleadmirer, Alice, gave up her longing desire that the foundation should bein England, when she learned that, as the wife of Nevil, her abode waslikely to be in France as long as that country required Englishgarrisons.

  To the young heiress of Salisbury, her own marriage, though close athand, seemed a mere ordinary matter compared with Esclairmonde'sBeguinage, to her the real romance. Never did she see a beggar crouchingat the church door, without a whisper to herself that there was a subjectfor the Beguines; and, tender-hearted as she was, she looked quitegratified at any lamentable tale which told the need.

  If Esclairmonde had a climax to her visions of her brown-robed messengersof mercy, it was that the holy Canon of St. Agnes should be induced tocome and act the part of master to her bedeswomen, as did Master Kedbesbyat home.

  She had even dared to murmur her design to Dr. Bennet; and when he, understrict seal of secrecy, had sounded King Henry, the present real masterof Paris, he reported that the tears had stood in the King's eyes for amoment, as he said, 'Blessings on the maiden! Should she be able to dothis for this city, I shall know that Heaven hath indeed sent a blessingby my arms!'

  For one brief week, Esclairmonde and Alice were very happy in this secr
ethope; but at the end of that time the Bishop of Therouenne appeared.Esclairmonde had ventured to hope that the King's influence, and likewisethe fact that her intention was not to enrich one of the regular monasticorders, might lead him to lend a favourable ear to her scheme; but shewas by no means prepared to find him already informed of the affair ofthe Dance of Death, and putting his own construction on it.

  'So, my fair cousin, this is the end of your waywardness. The tokenswere certainly somewhat strong; but the young gentleman's birth beingequal to yours, after the spectacle you have presented, your uncle of St.Pol, and I myself, must do our utmost to obtain the consent of the Dukeof Burgundy.'

  'Monseigneur is mistaken,' said Esclairmonde.

  'Child, we will have no more folly. You have flown after this young Scotin a manner fitted only for the foolish name your father culled for youout of his books of chivalry. You have given a lesson to the whole Courtand city on the consequences of a damsel judging for herself, and runninga mad course over the world, instead of submitting to her guardians.'

  'The Court understands my purpose as well as you do, Monseigneur.'

  'Silence, Mademoiselle. Your convent obstinacy is ended for ever now,since to send you to one would be to appear to hide a scandal.'

  'I do not wish to enter a convent,' said Esclairmonde. 'My desire is todedicate my labour and my substance to the foundation of a house here atParis, such as are the Beguinages of our Netherlands,'

  The Bishop held up his hands. He had never heard of such lunacy and itangered him, as such purposes are wont to anger worldly-hearted men. Thata lady of Luxemburg should have such vulgar tastes as to wish to be aBeguine was bad enough; but that Netherlandish wealth should be devotedto support the factious poor of Paris was preposterous. Neither the Dukeof Burgundy, nor her uncle of St. Pol, would allow a sou to pass out oftheir grasp for so absurd a purpose; the Pope would give no license--aboveall to a vain girl, who had helped a wife to run away from herhusband--for new religious houses; and, unless Esclairmonde was preparedto be landless, penniless, and the scorn of every one, for her wildbehaviour, she must submit, _bon gre, mal gre_, to become the wife of theScottish prince.

  'Landless and penniless then will I be, Monseigneur,' said Esclairmonde.'Was not poverty the bride of St. Francis?'

  The Bishop made a growl of contempt; but recollecting himself, and hisrespect for the saint, began to argue that what was possible for a man, amere merchant's son, an inspired saint besides, was not possible to adamsel of high degree, and that it was mere presumption, vanity, andobstinacy in her to appeal to such a precedent.

  There was something in this that struck Esclairmonde, for she wasconscious of a certain satisfaction in her plan of being the first tointroduce a Beguinage at Paris, and that she was to a certain degreeproud of her years of constancy to her high purpose; and she looked justso far abashed that the uncle saw his advantage, and discoursed on thedanger of attempting to be better than other people, and of trying tovapour in spiritual heights, to all of which she attempted no reply; tillat last he broke up the interview by saying, 'There, then, child; allwill be well. I see you are coming to a better mind.'

  'I hope I am, Monseigneur,' she replied, with lofty meekness; 'butscarcely such as you mean.'

  Alice Montagu's indignation knew no bounds. What! was this noblevotaress to be forced, not only to resign the glory of being thefoundress of a new order of beneficence, but to be married, just likeeverybody else, and to that wretched little coward? Boemond of Burgundywas better than that, for he at least was a man!

  'No, no, Alice,' said Esclairmonde, with a shudder; 'any one rather thanthe Burgundian! It is shame even to compare the Scot!'

  'He may not be so evil in himself,' said Alice; 'but with a brave man youhave only his own sins, while a coward has all those other people mayfrighten him into.'

  'He bore himself manfully in battle,' said the fair Fleming in reproof.

  But Alice answered with the scorn that sits so quaintly on the gentledaughter of a bold race: 'Ay, where he would have been more afraid to runthan to stand.'

  'You are hard on the Scot,' said Esclairmonde. 'Maybe it is because theNevils of Raby are Borderers,' she added, smiling; and, as Alice likewisesmiled and blushed, 'Now, if it were not for this madness, I could likethe youth. I would fain have had him for a brother that I could takecare of.'

  'But what will you do, Esclairmonde?'

  'Trust,' said she, sighing. 'Maybe, my pride ought to be broken; and Imay have to lay aside all my hopes and plans, and become a mere servingsister, to learn true humility. Anyhow, I verily trust to my HeavenlySpouse to guard me for himself. If the Duke of Burgundy still maintainsBoemond's suit, then in the dissension I see an escape.

  'And my father will defend you; and so will Sir Richard,' said Alice,with complacent certainty in their full efficiency. 'And King Harry willinterfere; and we _will_ have your hospital; ay, we _will_. How can youtalk so lightly of abandoning it?'

  'I only would know what is human pride, and what God's will,' sighedEsclairmonde.

  The Duke arrived with his two sisters, his wife being left at home in badhealth, and took up his abode at the Hotel de Bourgogne, whence he cameat once to pay his respects to the King of England; the poor King ofFrance, at the Hotel de St. Pol, being quite neglected.

  Esclairmonde and Alice stood at a window, and watched the arrival of themagnificent cavalcade, attended by a multitude, ecstatically shouting,'Noel Noel! Long live Philippe le Bon! Blessings on the mighty Duke!'While seated on a tall charger, whose great dappled head, jewelled andbeplumed, could alone be seen amid his sweeping housings, bowing rightand left, waving his embroidered gloved hand in courtesy, was seen thestately Duke, in the prime of life, handsome-faced, brilliantly coloured,dazzlingly arrayed in gemmed robes, so that Alice drew a long breath ofwonder and exclaimed, 'This Duke is a goodly man; he looks like theemperor of us all!'

  But when he had entered the hall, conducted by John of Bedford and Edmundof March, had made his obeisance to Henry, and had been presented by himto King James, Alice, standing close behind her queen, recollected thatshe had once heard Esclairmonde say, 'Till I came to England I deemedchivalry a mere gaudy illusion.'

  Duke Philippe would not bear close inspection; the striking features andfull red lips, that had made so effective an appearance in the gayprocession seen from a distance, seemed harsh, haughty, and sensual nearat hand, and when brought into close contact with the strange brightstern purity, now refined into hectic transparency, of King Henry's face,the grand and melancholy majesty of the royal Stewart's, or even thespare, keen, irregular visage of John of Bedford. And while his robeswere infinitely more costly than--and his ornaments tenfoldoutnumbered--all that the three island princes wore, yet no critical eyecould take him for their superior, even though his tone in addressing aninferior was elaborately affable and condescending, and theirs was alwaysthe frankness of an equal. Where they gave the sense of pure gold, heseemed like some ruder metal gilt and decorated; as if theirs werereality, his the imitation; theirs the truth, his the display.

  But in reality his birth was as princely as theirs; and no monarch inEurope, not even Henry, equalled him in material resources; he wasidolized by the Parisians; and Henry was aware that France had been madeover to England more by his revenge for his father's murder at Montereauthan by the victory at Agincourt. Therefore the King endured his grandtalk about _our_ arms and _our_ intentions; and for Malcolm's sake, Jamessubmitted to a sort of patronage, as if meant to imply that if Philippethe Magnificent chose to espouse the cause of a captive king, his ransomwould be the merest trifle.

  When Henry bade him to the Pentecostal banquet, 'when kings keep state,'he graciously accepted the invitation for himself and his two sisters,Marguerite, widow of the second short-lived Dauphin, and Anne, stillunmarried; but when Henry further explained his plan of feasting merelywith the orderly, and apportioning the food in real alms, the Duke by nomeans approved.

 
; 'Feed those miserables!' he said. 'One gains nothing thereby! They makeno noise; whereas if you affront the others, who know how to cry out,they will revile you like dogs!

  'I will not be a slave to the rascaille,' said Henry.

  'Ah, my fair lord, you, a victor, may dispense with these cares; but fora poor little prince like me, it is better to reign in men's hearts thanon their necks.'

  'In the hearts of honest men--on the necks of knaves,' said Henry.

  Philippe shrugged his shoulders. He was wise in his own generation; forhe had all the audible voices in Paris on his side, while the cavils atHenry's economy have descended to the present time.

  'Do you see your rival, Sir?' said the voice of the Bishop of Therouennein Malcolm's ear, just as the Duke had begun to rise to take leave; andhe pointed out a knight of some thirty years, glittering with gay devicesfrom head to foot, and showing a bold proud visage, exaggerating theharshness of the Burgundian lineaments.

  Malcolm shuddered, and murmured, 'Such a pearl to such a hog!'

  And meanwhile, King James, stepping forward, intimated to the Duke thathe would be glad of an interview with him.

  Philippe made some ostentation of his numerous engagements with men ofChurch and State; but ended by inviting the King of Scotland to sup withhim that evening, if his Grace would forgive travellers' fare and asimple reception.

  Thither accordingly James repaired on foot, attended only by Sir Nigeland Malcolm, with a few archers of the royal guard, in case torchesshould be wanted on the way home.

  How magnificent were the surroundings of the great Duke, it would bewearisome to tell. The retainers in the court of the hotel looked, asJames said, as if honest steel and good cloth were reckoned as churls,and as if this were the very land of Cockaigne, as Sir RichardWhittington had dreamt it. Neither he nor St. Andrew himself would knowtheir own saltire made in cloth of silver, 'the very metal to tarnish!'

  Sir Nigel had to tell their rank, ere the porters admitted the smallcompany: but the seneschal marshalled them forward in full state. AndJames never looked more the king than when, in simple crimson robe, thepure white cross on his breast, his auburn hair parted back from hisnoble brow, he stood towering above all heads, passively receiving theDuke of Burgundy's elaborate courtesies and greetings, nor seeming tonote the lavish display of gold and silver, meant to amaze the poorestking in Europe.

  Exceeding was the politeness shown to him--even to the omission of theseneschal's tasting each dish presented to the Duke, a recognition of thepresence of a sovereign that the two Scots scarcely understood enough forgratitude.

  Malcolm was the best off of the two at the supper; for James had ofcourse to be cavalier to the sickly fretful-looking Dauphiness, whileMalcolm fell to the lot of the Lady Anne, who, though not beautiful, hada kindly hearty countenance and manner, and won his heart by askingwhether the Demoiselle de Luxemburg were still in the suite of Madame ofHainault; and then it appeared that she had been her convent mate andwarmest friend and admirer in their girlish days at Dijon, and was nowlonging to see her. Was she as much set as ever on being a nun?

  Meantime, the Duke was pompously making way for the King of Scots toenter his cabinet, where--with a gold cup before each, a dish of comfitsand a stoup of wine between them--their interview was to take place.

  'These dainties accord with a matter of ladies' love,' said James, as theDuke handed him a sugar heart transfixed by an arrow.

  'Good, good,' said Philippe. 'The alliance is noble and our crowns andinfluence might be a good check in the north to your mighty neighbour;nor would I be hard as to her dowry. Send me five score yearly of suchknaves as came with Buchan, and I could fight the devil himself. Amorning gift might be specified for the name of the thing--but weunderstand one another.'

  'I am not certain of that, Sir,' said James, smiling; 'though I see youmean me kindly.'

  'Nay, now,' continued Philippe, 'I know how to honour royalty, even indurance; nor will I even press Madame la Dauphine on you instead of Anne,though it were better for us all if she could have her wish and become aqueen, and you would have her jointure--if you or any one else can getit.'

  'Stay, my Lord Duke,' said James, with dignity, 'I spake not of myself,deeming that it was well known that my troth is plighted.'

  'How?' said Burgundy, amazed, but not offended. 'Methought the House ofSomerset was a mere bastard slip, with which even King Henry with all hisinsolence could not expect you to wed in earnest. However, we may keepour intentions secret awhile; and then, with your lances and myresources, English displeasure need concern you little.'

  James, who had learned self-control in captivity, began politely toexpress himself highly honoured and obliged.

  'Do not mention it. Royal blood, thus shamefully oppressed, must commandthe aid of all that is chivalrous. Speak, and your ransom is at yourservice.'

  The hot blood rushed into James's cheek at this tone of condescension;but he answered, with courteous haughtiness: 'Of myself, Sir Duke, thereis no question. My ransom waits England's willingness to accept it; andmy hand is not free, even for the prize you have the goodness to offer. Icame not to speak of myself.'

  'Not to make suit for my sister, nor my intercession!' exclaimedPhilippe.

  'I make suit to no man,' said James; then, recollecting himself, 'if Idid so, no readier friend than the Duke of Burgundy could be found. Idid in effect come to propose an alliance between one of my own house anda fair vassal of yours.'

  'Ha! the runaway jade of Luxemburg!' cried Burgundy; 'the most headstronggirl who lives! She dared to plead her foolish vows against my brotherBoemond, fled with that other hoyden of Hainault, and now defies me bycoming here. I'll have her, and make her over to Boemond to tame herpride, were she in the great Satan's camp instead of King Henry's.'

  And this is the mirror of chivalry! thought James. But he persevered inhis explanation of his arrangement for permitting the estates ofEsclairmonde de Luxemburg to be purchased from her and her husband,should that husband be Malcolm Stewart of Glenuskie; and he soon foundthat these terms would be as acceptable to the Duke as they had alreadyproved to her guardian, Monseigneur de Therouenne. Money was nothing toPhilippe; but his policy was to absorb the little seignoralties that layso thick in these border lands of the Empire; and what he desired aboveall, was to keep them from either passing into the hands of the Church,or from consolidating into some powerful principality, as would have beenthe case had Esclairmonde either entered a convent or married youngWaleran de Luxemburg, her cousin. Therefore he had striven to force onher his half-brother, who would certainly never unite any inheritance tohers; but he much preferred the purchase of her Hainault lands; and hadno compunction in throwing over Boemond, except for a certain lurkingdesire that the lady's contumacy should be chastised by a lord who wouldbeat her well into subjection. He would willingly have made a great showof generosity, and have laid James under an obligation; and yet by theKing's dignified tone of courtesy he was always reduced to the air of onesoliciting rather than conferring a favour.

  Finally, Malcolm was called in, and presented to the Duke, making his ownpromise on his word of honour as a prince, and giving a written bond,that so soon as he obtained the hand of the Demoiselle de Luxemburg hewould resign her Hainault estates to the Duke of Burgundy for a sum ofmoney, to be fixed by persons chosen for the purpose.

  This was more like earnest than anything Malcolm had yet obtained; and hewent home exulting and exalted, his doubts as to Esclairmonde's consentalmost silenced, when he counted up the forces that were about to bearupon her.

  And they did descend upon her. Countess Jaqueline had been joined byother and more congenial Flemish dames, and was weary of her gravemonitress; and she continually scolded at Esclairmonde for perversenessand obstinacy in not accepting the only male thing she had ever favoured.The Bishop of Therouenne threatened and argued; and the Duke of Burgundyhimself came to enforce his commands to his refractory vassal, and onfinding her still unsubmi
ssive, flew into a rage, and rated her as few_could_ have done, save Philippe, called the Good.

  All she attempted to answer was, that they were welcome to her lands, sothey would leave her person free; her vows were not to man, but to God,and God would protect her.

  It was an answer that seemed specially to enrage her persecutors, whoretorted by telling her that such protection was only extended to thosewho obeyed lawful authority; and hints were thrown out that, if she didnot submit willingly, she might find herself married forcibly, for abishop could afford to disregard the resistance of a bride.

  Would Malcolm--would his king--consent to her being thus treated?

  As to Malcolm, he seemed to her too munch changed for her to reckon onwhat remnant of good feeling there might be to appeal to in him. AndJames, though he was certain not to permit palpable coercion in hispresence, or even if he were aware that it was contemplated, seemed tohave left the whole management of the affair to Esclairmonde's ownguardians; and they would probably avoid driving matters to extremitiesthat would revolt him, while he was near enough for an appeal. AndEsclairmonde was too uncertain whether her guardians would resort to suchlengths, or whether it were not a vain threat of the giddy Countess, tocompromise her dignity by crying out before she was hurt; and she had nosecurity, save that she was certain that in the English household of KingHenry such violence would not be attempted; and out of reach of thatprotection she never ventured.

  Once she said to Henry, 'My only hope is in God and in you, my lord.'

  And Henry bent his head, saying, 'Noble lady, I cannot interfere; butwhile you are in my house, nothing can be done with you against yourwill.'

  Yet even Henry was scarcely what he had been in all-pervading vigilanceand readiness. Like all real kings of men, he had been his own primeminister, commander-in-chief, and private secretary, transacting amarvellous amount of business with prompt completeness; and when, in themidst of shattered health which he would not avow, the cares of twokingdoms, and the generalship of an army, with all its garrisons, restedon him, his work would hardly have been accomplished but for hisbrother's aid. It was never acknowledged, often angrily disdained. Butwhen John of Bedford had watched the terrible lassitude and lethargy thatweighed on the King at times in the midst of his cabinet work, he wasconstantly on the watch to relieve him; and his hand and style so closelyresembled Henry's that the difference could scarce be detected, and hecould do what none other durst attempt. Many a time would Henry, whosetemper had grown most uncertain, fiercely rate him for intermeddling; butJohn knew and loved him too well to heed; and his tact andunobtrusiveness made Henry rely on him more and more.

  If the illness had only been confessed, those who watched the Kinganxiously would have had more hope; but he was hotly angered at any hintof his needing care; and though he sometimes relieved oppression bycausing himself to be bled by a servant, he never allowed that anythingailed him; it was always the hot weather, the anxious tidings, the longpageant that wearied him--things that were wont to be like gnats on alion's mane.

  Those solemn banquets and festivals--lasting from forenoon till eventide,with their endless relays of allegorical subtleties, their long-windedharangues, noisy music, interludes of giants, sylvan men, distresseddamsels, knights-errant on horseback, ships and forests coming in uponwheels, and fulsome compliments that must be answered--had been alwayshis aversion, and were now so heavy an oppression that Bedford would havepersuaded the Queen to curtail them. But to the fair Catherine thisappeared an unkind endeavour of her disagreeable brother-in-law, toprevent her from shining in her native city, and eclipsing the Burgundianpomp; and she opened her soft brown eyes in dignified displeasure,answering that she saw nothing amiss with the King; and she likewisecomplained to her husband of his brother's jealousy of her welcome fromher own people, bringing on him one of Henry's most bitter sentences.

  Henry would only have had her abate somewhat of the splendour thatgratified her, because he did not think it becoming to outshine herparents; but Catherine scorned the notion. Her old father would knownothing, or would smile in his foolish way to see her so brave; and forher mother, she recked not so long as she had a larded capon before her:nor was it possible to make the young queen understand that this fatuityand feebleness were the very reasons for deferring to them.

  The ordering of the feast fell to Catherine and her train; and itssplendours on successive days had their full development, greatly to theconstraint and weariness, among others, of Esclairmonde, who was alwaysassigned to Malcolm Stewart, and throughout these long days had to beconstantly repressing him; not that he often durst make her any directcompliment, for he was usually quelled into anxious wistful silence, andmerely eyed her earnestly, paying her every attention in his power. Andsuch a silent tedious meal was sure to be remarked, either with laughingrudeness by Countess Jaqueline, or with severe reproof by the Bishop ofTherouenne, both of whom assured her that she had better lay aside herairs, and resign herself in good part, for there was no escape for her.

  One day, however, when the feast was at the Hotel de Bourgogne, and therewere some slight differences in the order of the guests, the Duke ofBedford put himself forward as the Lady Esclairmonde's cavalier, so muchto her relief, that her countenance, usually so guarded, relaxed into thebright, sweet smile of cheerfulness that was most natural to her.Isolated as the pairs at the table were, and with music braying in agallery just above, there was plenty of scope for conversation; and onceagain Esclairmonde was talking freely of the matters regarding thedistress in Paris, that Bedford had consulted her upon before he becameso engrossed with his brother's affairs, or she so beset by herpersecutors.

  Towards the evening, when the feast had still some mortal hours to last,there fell a silence on the Duke; and at length, when the music was atthe loudest, he said 'Lady, I have watched for this moment. You arepersecuted. Look not on me as one of your persecutors; but if no otherrefuge be open to you, here is one who might know better how to esteemyou than that malapert young Scot.'

  'How, Sir?' exclaimed Esclairmonde, amazed at these words from the woman-hating Bedford.

  'Make no sudden reply,' said John. 'I had never thought of you save asone consecrate, till, when I see you like to be hunted down into thehands of yon silly lad, I cannot but thrust between. My brother wouldwillingly consent; and, if I may but win your leave to love you, lady, itwill be with a heart that has yearned to no other woman.'

  He spoke low and steadily, looking straight before him, with no visibleemotion, save a little quiver in the last sentence, a slight dilating ofthe delicately cut nostril; and then he was silent, until, havingrecovered the self-restraint that had been failing him, he prevented thewords she was trying to form by saying, 'Not in haste, lady. There istime yet before you to bethink yourself whether you can be free in willand conscience. If so, I will bear you through all.'

  How invitingly the words fell on the lonely heart, so long left to fightits own battles! There came for the first time the full sense of whatlife might be, the shielding tenderness, the sure reliance, the pureaffection, such as she saw Henry lavish on the shallow Queen, but whichshe could meet and requite in John. The brutal Boemond, the childishMalcolm, had aroused no feeling in her but dislike or pity, and to them aconvent was infinitely preferable; but Bedford--the religious, manly,brave, unselfish Bedford--opened to her the view of all that couldcontent a high-souled woman's heart, backed, moreover, by the wonder ofhaving been the first to touch such a spirit.

  It would not have been a _mesalliance_. Her family was one of thegrandest of the Netherlands; the saintly Emperor, Henry of Luxemburg, washer ancestor; and Bedford's proposal was not a condescension such as torouse her sense of dignity. His rank did not strike her as did his loftystainless character; the like of which she had never known to exist inthe world of active life till she saw the brothers of England, who camemore near to the armed saints and holy warriors of Church legend than herfancy had thought mortal man could do, bred as she had
been in thesensual, violent, and glittering Burgundy of the fifteenth century. Intruth, as Malcolm had thought the cloister the only refuge from theharshness and barbarism of Scotland, so Esclairmonde had thought pietyand purity to be found nowhere else; and both had found the Court ofHenry V. an infinitely better world than they had supposed possible; but,until the present moment, Esclairmonde had never felt the slightest callto take a permanent place there. Now however the cloister, even if itwere open to her, presented a gloomy, cheerless life of austerity, incomparison with human affection and matronly duty. And most vivid of allat the moment was the desire to awaken the tender sweetness that slept inthose steady gray eyes, to see the grave, wise visage gleam with smilingaffection, and to rest in having one to take thought for her, and finishthis long term of tossing about and self-defence. Was not the patiencewith which he kept his eyes away from her already a proof of hisconsideration and delicate kindness?

  But deep in Esclairmonde's soul lay the sense that her dedication wassacred, and her power over herself gone. She had always felt a wife'sallegiance due to Him whom she received as her spiritual Spouse; andthough the sense at this moment only brought her disappointment and self-reproach, her will was loyal. The bond was cutting into her very flesh,but she never even thought of breaking it; and all she waited for was thepower of restraining her grateful tears.

  In this she was assisted by observing that Bedford's attention had beenattracted towards his brother, who was looking wan and weary, scarcelytasting what was set before him; and, after fitfully trying to conversewith Marguerite of Burgundy, at last had taken advantage of an endlessharangue from all the Virtues, and had dropped asleep. The Lady Anne wasseen making a sign to her sister not to disturb him; and Bedfordmurmured, with a sigh, 'There is, for once, a discreet woman.' Then, asif recalled to a sense of what was passing, he turned on Esclairmonde hisfull earnest look, saying, 'You will teach the Queen how _he_ should becared for. You will help me.'

  'Sir,' said Esclairmonde, feeling it most difficult not to falter, 'thisis a great grace, but it cannot be.'

  'Cannot!' said Bedford, slowly. 'You have taken thought?'

  'Sir, it is not the part of a betrothed spouse to take thought. My vowswere renewed of my own free will and it were sacrilege to try to recallthem for the first real temptation.'

  She spoke steadily, but the effort ached through her whole frame,especially when the last word illumined John Plantagenet's face withstrange sweet light, quenched as his lip trembled, his nostril quivered,his eye even moistened, as he said, 'It is enough, lady; I will no morevex one who is vexed enough already; and you will so far trust me as toregard me as your protector, if you should be in need?'

  'Indeed I will,' said Esclairmonde, hardly restraining her tears.

  'That is well,' said Bedford. And he neither looked at her nor spoke toher again, till, as he led her away in the procession from the hall, heheld her hand fast, and murmured: 'There then it rests, sweet ladyunless, having taken counsel with your own heart, you should change yourdecree, and consult some holy priest. If so, make but a sign of thehand, and I am yours; for verily you are the only maiden I could everhave loved.'

  She was still in utter confusion, in the chamber where the ladies werecloaking for their return, when her hands were grasped on either side bythe two Burgundian princesses.

  'Sweet runaway, we have caught you at last! Here, into Anne's chamber.See you we must! How is it with you? Like you the limping Scot betterthan Boemond?' laughed the Dauphiness, her company dignity laid aside forschool-girl chatter.

  'If you cannot hold out,' said Anne, 'the Scot seems a gentle youth; and,at least, you are quit of Boemond.'

  'Yes,' said Marguerite, 'his last prank was too strong for the Duke:quartering a dozen men-at-arms on a sulky Cambrai weaver till he paid him2000 crowns. Besides, it would be well to get the Scottish king for anally. Do you know what we two are here for, Clairette? We are both tobe betrothed: one to the handsome captive with the gold locks; the otherto your hawk-nosed neighbour, who seemed to have not a word to say.'

  'But,' said Esclairmonde, replying to the easiest part of the disclosure,'the King of Scots is in love with the Demoiselle of Somerset.'

  'What matters that, silly maid?' said Marguerite 'he does not displeaseme; and Anne is welcome to that melancholy duke.'

  'Oh, Lady Anne!' exclaimed Esclairmonde, 'if such be your lot, it wouldbe well indeed.'

  'What, the surly brother, of whom Catherine tells such tales!' continuedMarguerite.

  'Credit them not,' said Esclairmonde. 'He never crosses her but when hewould open her eyes to his brother's failing health.'

  'Yes,' interrupted Marguerite; 'my lord brother swears that this kingwill not live a year; and if Catherine have no better luck with her childthan poor Michelle, then there will be another good Queen Anne inEngland.'

  'If so,' said Esclairmonde, looking at her friend with swimming eyes,'she will have the best of husbands--as good as even she deserves!'

  Anne held her hand fast, and would have said many tender words onEsclairmonde's own troubles; but the other ladies were arrayed, andEsclairmonde would not for worlds have been left behind in the Hotel deBourgogne.

  Privacy was not an attainable luxury, and Esclairmonde could not communewith her throbbing heart, or find peace for her aching head, till night.This must be a matter unconfided to any, even Alice Montagu. And whilethe maiden lay smiling in her quiet sleep, after having fondly told herfriend that Sir Richard Nevil had really noticed her new silken kirtle,she knelt on beneath the crucifix, mechanically reciting her prayers,and, as the beads dropped from her fingers, fighting out the fight withher own heart.

  Her mind was made up; but her sense of the loss, her craving for theworthy affection which lay within her grasp--these dismayed her. Thelife she had sighed for had become a blank; and she passionately detestedthe obligation that held her back from affection, usefulness, joy, andexcellence--not ambition, for the greatest help to her lay in Bedford'sposition, his exalted rank, and nearness to the crown. Indeed, shereally dreaded and loathed worldly pomp so much that the temptation wouldhave been greater had he not been a prince.

  It was this sense of renunciation that came to her aid. She had at leasta _real_ sacrifice to offer; till now, as she became aware, she had madenone. She folded her hands, and laid her offering to be hallowed by theOne all-sufficient Sacrifice. She offered all those capacities for lovethat had been newly revealed to her; she offered up the bliss, whosegolden dawn she had seen; she tried to tear out the earthliness of herheart and affections by the roots, and lay them on the altar, entreatingthat, come what might, her spirit might never stray from the HeavenlySpouse of her betrothal.

  Therewith came a sense of His perfect sufficiency--of rest, peace,support, ineffable love, that kept her kneeling in a calm, almostecstatic state, in which common hopes, fears, and affections had meltedaway.