CHAPTER III
A GIFT FOR THE DUKE
The sun and the breeze contended with the mist, intrenched in thestronghold of the valley. From the east the red orb began its attack;out of the west rode the swift-moving zephyrs, and, vanquished, thewavering vapor stole off into thin air, or hung in isolated wreaths abovethe foliage on the hillside. Soon the conquering light brightlyillumined a medieval castle commanding the surrounding country; thevictorious breeze whispered loudly at its gloomy casements. A greatNorman structure, somber, austere, it was, however brightened with manymodern features that threatened gradually to sap much of its ancientmajesty.
"Fill up the moat," Francis had ordered. "'Tis barbaric! What loverwould sigh beneath walls thirty feet thick! And the portcullis! Awaywith it! Summon my Italian painters to adorn the walls. We may yet makehabitable these legacies from the savage, brutal past."
So the mighty walls, once set in a comparative wilderness, a tangle ofthicket and underbrush, now arose from garden, lawn and park, where eventhe deer were no longer shy, and the water, propelled by artificialpower, shot upward in jets.
Seated at a window which overlooked this sylvan aspect, modified if notfashioned by man, a young woman with seeming conscientiousness, told herbeads. The apartment, though richly furnished, was in keeping with thedevout character of its fair mistress. A brush or aspersorium, used forsprinkling holy water, was leaning against the wall. Upon a table lay anopen psalter, with its long hanging cover and a ball at the extremity ofthe forel. Behind two tall candlesticks stood an altar-table which,being unfolded, revealed three compartments, each with a picture, paintedby Andrea del Sarto, the once honored guest of Francis.
The Princess Louise, cousin of Francis' former queen, Claude, had beenreared with rigid strictness, although provided with various preceptorswho had made her more or less proficient in the profane letters, as theywere then called, Latin, Greek, theology and philosophy. The fame of herbeauty had gone abroad; her hand had been often sought, but the obdurateking had steadfastly refused to sanction her betrothal until Charles, theemperor, himself proposed a union between the fair ward of the Frenchmonarch and one of his nobles, the young Duke of Friedwald. To thisFrancis had assented, for he calculated upon thus drawing to hisinterests one of his rival's most chivalrous knights, while far-seeingCharles believed he could not only retain the duke, but add to his owncourt the lovely and learned ward of the king.
And in this comedy of aggrandizement the puppets were willing--as puppetsmust needs be. Indeed, the duke was seriously enamored of the princess,whose portrait he had seen in miniature, and had himself importuned theemperor to intercede with Francis, knowing that the only way to thelady's hand was through the good offices of him who aspired to themastery of all Europe, if not the world.
Charles, unwilling to disoblige one whose principality was the mostpowerful of the Austrian provinces he sought to absorb in his scheme forthe unification of all nations, offered no demur to a request fraughtwith advantage to himself. Besides, cold and calculating though he was,the emperor entertained a certain affection for the duke, who on oneoccasion, when Charles had been sore beset by the troops of Solyman, hadextricated his royal leader from the alternatives of ignominious captureor an untimely end. Accordingly, a formal proposal, couched in languageof warm friendship to the king, was despatched by the emperor. WhenFrancis, with some misgiving, arising from experience with womankind,laid the matter before Louise, she, to his surprise, proved her devotionand loyalty by her entire submissiveness, and the king, kissing her hand,generously vowed the wedding festivities should be worthy of her beautyand fealty.
Was she thinking of that scene now and the many messages which hadsubsequently passed between her distant lover and herself, as the whitefingers ceased to tell the beads? Was she questioning fate and thefuture when the rosary fell from her hand and the clinking of the greatglass beads on the hard floor aroused her from a reverie? Languidly sherose, crossed the room toward a low dressing table, when at the same timeone of the several doors of the apartment opened, admitting the jestress,Jacqueline, whose long, flowing gown of dark green bore no distinguishingmark of the motley she had assumed the night before. The dreamy, almostlethargic, gaze of the princess rested for a moment upon the ardent eyesof 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 last night in Fool's hall, beatTriboulet, appointed knaves in jest to high offices, and had been hangedfor his forwardness but that he narrowly saved his neck by a slenderdevice."
"What; all that in so short a time!" exclaimed the princess. "A mostpresumptuous rogue!"
"The king, Madam, was behind the tapestry and heard it all: hisappointment of Thony as treasurer, because he is apt at palming money;Brusquet, governor of Guienne, since he governs his own home so ill; andVillot, admiral of the fleet, that he might sail away and leave hispretty 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 theadmiral when he hears of it--on the high seas! The king waseavesdropping, you say, and yet spared the jester? He must bear acharmed life."
"He dubbed himself the duke's gift, Madam, and boldly claimed privilegeunder the poor cloak of hospitality."
"Surely," murmured the princess, "there will be no lack of entertainmentwith 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 thejester passed the threshold:--a figure so graceful and well-built, thelady's eyes, turning toward him with mild inquiry, lingered withapproval; lingered, and were upraised to a fair, handsome face, whenapproval 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? His countenanceseemed that of a courtier rather than a low-born scape-grace; his bearingin consonance, as, approaching the princess, he knelt near the edge ofher sweeping crimson garment. Quietly the maid withdrew to a corner ofthe apartment where she seated herself on a low stool, her fingers idlyplaying with the delicate carvings of a vase of silver, containing waterthat had been blessed and standing conveniently near the aspersorium.
"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 if to say: "Why, he's amodel of decorum!" but the girl continued regarding the figures on thevase, seemingly indifferent to the scene before her.
"I hear, sirrah, but a poor account of your behavior last night,"continued the princess. "You must have a care, or I shall send you backto the duke and command him to have you whipped. You have been here butovernight, yet how many enemies have you made? The king; the admiral,and--last but not least--a certain lady. Poor fool! you may have savedyour neck, but for how long? Fie! what an account must I give of you toyour master!"
"Ah, Madam," he answered quickly, "you show me now the folly of it all."
"Let me see," she went on more gently, "what we may do, since you arepenitent? The king may forgive; the admiral forget, but the lady--shewill neither forget nor forgive. Fortunately, I think she fears todisoblige me, and, if I let it be known you are an indispensable part ofmy household--" she paused thoughtfully--"besides, she has a littlesecret she would keep from the king. Yes; the secret will save you!"And Louise smiled knowingly, as one who, although most devout, perhapshad missed a few paters or credos in listening 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 ladycarelessly. "But you may rise. Hand me that embroidery," she added whenhe had obeyed. "How
do I know the duke, my betrothed, whom I have neverseen, has not sent you to report upon my poor charms? What if you wereonly 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 hisface, 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 generousproportions; a foot, however, _petite_, Parisian, peeping from beneath arobe, heavy, voluminous, vivid!
"If you were?" she suggested, passing a golden thread through the clothshe 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 breast to look at it."
"And so many handsome women in the kingdom, too!" laughed the princess."A tiny, paltry bit of vellum!"
Her lips curled indulgently, as of a person sure of herself. Did not thefool's glance pay her that tribute to which she was not a stranger? Herlashes, suddenly lifted, met his fully, and drove his look, grownoverbold, to cover. The princess smiled; she might well believe thestories 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 helike?"
"A fairly likely man!"
"'Tis what one says of a man when one can say nothing else. He is notthen very handsome?"
"He has never been so considered!"
The princess' needle remained suspended, then viciously plunged into thegolden Cupid she was embroidering. "The king hath played with me," shemurmured. "He represented him as one of the most distinguished-appearingknights 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 herfeatures softened. The indolent look crept into her eyes once more; thetension 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--ablusterer--strong in his cups! What a list of qualifications!Well"--with a sigh--"what must needs be must be! The emperor plays therook; Francis moves his pawn--my poor self. The game, beyond the twomoves, is naught to us. Perhaps we shall be sacrificed, one or both!What of that, if it's a draw, or one of the players checkmates theother--"
"But, Princess," cried the fool, "he loves you!Passionately!--devotedly!--"
"A passing fancy for a painted semblance!" said the lady, as rising sheturned toward the casement, the golden Cupid falling from her lap to thefloor. In the rhythmic ease of her movement, in her very attitude, wasconsciousness of her own power, but to the poet-jester, surrounded as hewas by symbols of worship and devotion, her expressed self-doubt seemedthat of some saintly being, cloistered in the solitude of a sanctuary.
"Nay," he answered swiftly, "he has but to see you--with the sunlight inyour hair--as I see you now! The pawn, Madam, would become a queen; hisqueen! What would matter to him the game of Charles or Francis? LetCharles grow greater, or Francis smaller. His gain would be--you!"
The fingers of the maid who sat at the far end of the room ceased tocaress the silver vase; her hands were tightly clasped together; in herdark eyes was an ironical light, as her gaze passed from the jester toher mistress. Almost motionless stood the princess until he hadfinished; motionless it would have seemed but for the chain on herbreast, which rose and fell with her breathing. From the jeweled networkwhich half-bound her hair shone flashes of light; a tress which escapedthe glittering environment lay like a serpent of gold upon the crimson ofher gown where the neck softly uprose. A hue, delicately rich as thetinted leaves of orange blossoms, mantled her cheeks.
She shook her head in soft dissent. "Queen for how long?" she answeredgently. "As long as gentle Claude was queen for Francis? As long assaintly Eleanor held undisputed sway?"
"As long as Eleanor is queen in the hearts 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 trembledat the entrance of her chamber, and, grasping it lightly, she held it toher face as if its perfume symbolized her thoughts.
"Is there so much constancy in the world?" she asked musingly. "Can suchsingleness of heart exist? Like this flower which would bloom and die atmy window? A bold flower, though! Day by day has it been growingnearer. Here," she added, breaking it from the stem and holding it tothe jester.
"Madam!" he cried.
"Take it," she laughed, "and--send it to the duke!" Kneeling, hereceived it. "Thou art a fellow of infinite humor indeed. Equally athome in a lady's boudoir, or a fools' drinking bout. Come, Jacqueline,Queen Marguerite awaits our presence. She has a new chapter to read, butwhether another instalment of her tales, or a prayer for her Mirror ofthe Sinful Soul, I know not. As for you, sir"--with a partingsmile--"later we shall walk in the garden. There you may await us."
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