CHAPTER XII--THE GREEN KNIGHT
The Duchess of Breakwater had made Dan promise at Osdene the day he wentback to London that he would take her over to her own place, StainerCourt, and with her see the beauty, ruins and traditions of the place.
When Dan got up well on in the morning, Ruggles had gone to the bank.Dan's thoughts turned from everything to Letty Lane. With irritation heput her out of his mind. There had come up between himself and the girlhe had known slightly in his own town years ago a wall of partition.Every time he saw her Poniotowsky was there, condescending, arrogant,rude and proud. The prince the night before had given the tips of hisfingers to Dan, nodded to Ruggles as if the Westerner had been histailor, and had appropriated Letty Lane, and she had gone away under hisshadow. The simplicity of Dan's life, his decent bringing up, hisimmaculate youth, for such it was, his aloofness from the world, madehim naive, but he was not dull. He waited--not like a skeptic who wouldfit every one into his pigeonholes--on the contrary, he waited to findevery one as perfect as he knew they must be, and every time he tried tothink of Letty Lane, Poniotowsky troubled him horribly and seemed torise before him, and sardonically look at him through his eye-glass,making the boy's belief in good things ridiculous.
He wrote a note to Ruggles, saying that he would be back late and not towait for him, and set out in his own car for Blankshire, where theduchess was to meet him at Stainer Court at noon. On his way out hedecided that he had been a fool to discuss Letty Lane with the Duchessof Breakwater, and that it had been none of his business to put her dutybefore her, and that he had judged her quickly and unfairly. He fell inlove with the lovely English country over which his motor took him, andit made him more affectionate toward the English woman. He sat back inhis car, looking over the fine shooting land, the misty golden forests,as through the misty country his motor took its way. The breath ofEngland was on his cheeks, he breathed in its odors fresh and sweet, thewindless air was cool and fragrant. His cheeks grew red, his eyes shonelike stars, and he was content with his youth and his lot. When theystopped at Castelene, the property belonging to Stainer Court, he feltsomething of proprietorship stir in him, and at Stainer Arms ordered adrink, bought petroleum, and then pushed up the avenue under theleafless giant trees, whose roots were older than his father's name orthan any state of the Union. And he felt admiration and something likeemotion as he saw the first towers of Stainer Court finally appear.
The duchess waited for him in the room known as the "Green Knight'sRoom," because of a figure in tapestry on the walls. The legend in woolhad been woven in Spain, somewhere about the time when Isabella waskind, and when in turn a continent loomed up for the world in generalout of the mist. The subject of the Green Knight's tapestry was simpleand convincing. On a sheer-cut village of low ferns, where daisies stoodup like trees, a slender lady poised, her dark sandaled feet on thepin-like turf. Her figure was all swathed round with a spotless dress ofwoolly white, softened by age into a golden misty tone, and a pair offriendly and confidential rabbits sat close to her golden slippers. Thelady's face was candid and mild; her eyes were soft, and around her headwas wound a fillet of woven threads, mellow in tone, a red, no doubt,originally, but softened to a coral pink by time. This lady in all hergrace and virginal sweetness was only half of the woven story. To herright stood a youth in forest green, his sword drawn, and his intentionevidently to kill a creature which, near to the gentle rabbits, out ofthe daisied grass lifted its cruel snakelike head. For nearly fivehundred years the serpent's venom had been poised, and if the serpentshould start the Green Knight would strike, too, at the same magicmoment.
Close to the tapestry a fire had been laid in the broad fireplace, andthe duchess had ordered the luncheon table for Dan and herself spreadwith the cold things England knows how to combine into a delectablefeast. The room was full of mediaeval furnishings, but the Green Knightwas the best of all. The Duchess of Breakwater took him for granted. Shehad known him all her life, and she had only been struck by hisexpensive beauty when the offer came to her from the National Museum tobuy him, and she wondered how long she could afford to stick to herprice.
When Dan came in he found her in a short tweed skirt, a mannish blouse,looking boyish and wholly charming, and she mixed him a cocktail underthe Green Knight's very nose and offered it with the wisdom of theserpent itself, and the duchess didn't in the least suggest thewhite-robed, milk-white lady.
The friends drank their cocktails in good spirits, and Dan presented thelady with the flowers he had brought her, and he felt a strong sentimentstir at the sight of her in this old room, alone and waiting for him.The servants left them, the duchess put her hands on the boy's broadshoulders. Nearly as tall as he, she was a good example of thebest-looking English woman, straight and strong, and her eyes werelevel, and Dan met them with his own.
"I am so glad you came," she murmured. "I've been ragging myself everyminute since you went away from Osdene."
"You have? What for?"
"Because I was such a perfect prig. I'll do anything you like for MissLane. I mean to say, I'll arrange for a musicale and ask her to sing."
The color rushed into Dan's face. How bully of her! What a brick thisshowed her to be! He said: "You are as sweet as a peach!"
The duchess' hands were still on his shoulders. She could feel his rapidbreath.
"I don't make you think of a box of candy now?" she murmured, and theboy covered her hand with his own.
"I don't know what you make me think of--it is bully, whatever it is!"
If the Spanish tapestry could only have reversed its idea, and if theimmaculate lady, or even one of the rabbits, could have drawn a sword toprotect the Green Knight, it would have been passing well. But the wovenwork, when it first had been embroidered, was done for ever; it wasirrevocable in its mistaken idea, that it is only the _woman_ who needsprotection!
The Girl From His Town Page 12
