"I slipped behind the armor of a giant duke""I slipped behind the armor of a giant duke"
"I slipped behind the armor of a giant duke and stood waiting to see what was going to happen, for the duchess was as white as Dame Cunegunda's cap and the countenance of Clotilde was screwed into an expression I never had seen it wear in all the years I have reveled in the joy of her acquaintance. They waited for a few moments, then the door at the other end of the corridor was opened and two gentlemen entered."
"And who were they?" asked Cunegunda breathlessly.
"I have not the pleasure of the acquaintance of all the gentlemen of Europe," replied the fool, "and I did not recognize them; but I knew at once that they were Frenchmen. As soon as they had greeted the ladies the taller of the two retired to the other end of the corridor, and Clotilde, as if not to be outdone in politeness, withdrew to the other door; but I remained quietly in my place, for I wanted to hear what was going on. Why is it that people always talk in such low mumbling voices when one is trying to hear what they aresaying? I have good large ears, and I strained them to their utmost capacity, but I could only catch a word now and then.
"I know that the gentleman was urging Cousin Anne to do something she did not want to do, and that it was a plot against Mademoiselle of Austria, for I heard Anne say, 'Dishonorable both to the King of the Romans and to the Lady Marguerite.' I wanted to hear more, but Clotilde, who I verily believe was created on purpose to make me uncomfortable, seemed to suspect that there was somebody in the place who had not been invited and began to peer about pop-eyed, like a cat in search of a mouse."
"Well, continue!" said Cunegunda impatiently, as the fool paused.
"Let a man reach for his breath, can't you? That was a long sentence. I felt that I was not safe with Clotilde on the hunt for me, so, keeping well in the shadows, I managed to slip to the nearest archway, and I am here with a whole skin, which might not have been the case if Clotilde had spied me out."
"How did the gentleman appear?" asked Cunegunda.
"He appeared to be pretty well, though somewhat anxious," replied the jester.
"She meant to ask you to describe him," said the princess.
"He was not beautiful," was the reply. "I couldshow you a handsomer man among her Grace's falconers and could pick a better-looking one from a good many other crowds. Put into the suit of armor behind which I stood he would have rattled about like a nut on the inside of a drum. His head was large and his nose, instead of coming straight down, as a sensible nose should do, made a curve over the top. His eyes were big and bright, and Nature, as if to make an apology for giving him such a nose, had stuck a dimple in his chin, which was poor taste on her part, for a dimple looks queer with that kind of a nose. But his manner was so gracious that I fancy one would soon forget his ugliness and think only of the real man shut inside that unprepossessing shell.
"That was a clever sentence, was it not?" asked the fool, stopping suddenly. "I did not know that I could do it. I wish I could always talk like that."
"Did he have a fashion of smoothing his hair from his brow as he talked?" asked the princess.
"Yes, I noticed that. He held his cap in his hand, as a gentleman should. It was black, with a long black plume clasped in place by a great jewel that seemed to wink at me as he talked."
"It was Charles of France!"
"It was the King!" exclaimed Marguerite and her woman in the same breath.
"Because he wore a jewel in his cap?" asked the jester. "Oh, fie! that is a common fashion."
"You have described the King's face and figure exactly," said Cunegunda.
"Since you mention it, I think it must have been the King," said the fool, "for I now recall the fact that the lady addressed him as 'Monseigneur,' a title not given to common mortals."
"Oh, what is going to happen to us now?" cried Cunegunda, in an agony of distress. "I have known all along that something dreadful was in store for us in this place."
"Then it must be a mournful satisfaction to you to know that you were not mistaken," remarked Le Glorieux.
"Do not stand there making senseless speeches," cried the Austrian woman angrily, "but try to help us out of our troubles. But why do I appeal to you? You do not care for us; you are in the service of our enemies."
The jester instantly became serious. "If danger threatens I will serve but one. I shall know no allegiance but to the princess of my own country, the daughter of my beloved mistress."
Marguerite smiled brightly as she said, "I have no fear that you will not defend me if it should become necessary, Le Glorieux. But I do not think the time has yet come for you to fight for me.
"Your Highness talks like a baby," cried Cunegunda, "and as if you were a person of no consequence! Is it a matter of small moment that thegranddaughter of the emperor should be in the clutches of Anne of Brittany, who is plotting against her with the King of France?"
"But why should the King of France plot against me, since I am to be the queen and my provinces will one day belong to him?" replied her little mistress.
"Who can account for the strange schemes of great nations?" asked Cunegunda. "Perhaps your marriage with the King of France is about to be broken off and he and the Duchess of Brittany will hold you as a hostage to extract a large sum from the emperor, your grandfather."
"It would be cruel to demand a large sum from that old and stingy man," remarked Le Glorieux. "The gold of Frederick is as hard to dig out of his coffers as if it were a thousand feet under ground."
"We shall not need his money for that purpose," said the princess. "My dear Duchess of Brittany will never betray me, nor will Charles of France, who is too good and kind to seek to injure me."
"The King is under the influence of his sister, who has no thought but for her own schemes," replied the woman firmly. "We must leave here at once! We can escape to-night unseen and remain in some quiet village until we shall be able to communicate with Austria."
Le Glorieux sat down on the floor and pressed his hands to his head. "This matter is enough to puzzle a wise man, to say nothing of a fool," saidhe dolefully. "Now, let us look at it as it really is and try to straighten it all out." Holding his left hand out in front of him and gesticulating with his right, he went on. "This thumb is Mademoiselle of Austria; this forefinger is the Duchess Anne; the second finger is the King of France, and the third is the King of the Romans. Now, Anne is going to marry the King of the Romans, whose daughter is going to marry the King of France. But what must Anne be at but engaged in a plot against the daughter of the man she is going to marry in order to make things fine and pleasant for her by the time she arrives in Austria. This plot, so far as I can see, is one which the King of France has no reason in this world to have a finger in, but which he takes all the trouble to come in secret to help carry out!"
"Do not sit there tapping first one finger and then the other like a great booby, but help us to get away from here," said Cunegunda angrily. "Here is money to bribe the groom to keep silent. See that our mules are brought out——"
"Stop!" said Marguerite, in a tone of calm authority. "I have told the Duchess of Brittany that I would trust her, and intend to do so. I shall remain here until she goes."
"Remain here with your life in danger?" cried Cunegunda, aghast.
"My life is not in danger. I know not of what she was speaking to the King of France, nor howLe Glorieux may have misunderstood her, but whatever it is, my life is not in peril while I am beneath the roof of Anne of Brittany. Therefore I will not steal away in the night like a criminal. She has said that not one hair of my head shall be touched, and she will not be faithless to her promise. There is nothing for us to do but to keep silent and wait."
"And those two are the hardest things in this world to do," said the fool. "To wait is worse than the toothache, to keep silent is worse than the plague, but put the two together and they are enough to destroy life and reason."
At supper the question of the significance of dreams came up, all discussing it in an animated manner save the Lady Anne, who toyed with her wineglass, often gazing down into it as if trying to read her future in its ruby depths. Le Glorieux sat on a low stool at her side, making a remark when he felt so inclined, and studying her face when he was not talking.
"There are dreams which always come true forme," said the Lady Clotilde in the tone of one whose word can not be disputed. "A dream of the dead is one of great importance, as every one knows. When I dream of my father something of moment always happens. He always addresses me as 'My sweet and amiable child.'"
"All kinds of love are blind," remarked the jester. "I had a dream myself last night that isof great importance," he went on with his eyes fixed on the Lady Anne's face. "I thought the affairs of Brittany, Austria, and France were a pack of cards, all arranged smoothly, with the proper kings and queens together and the knaves at the bottom of the pack. Then I could see the knaves grow restless and begin to flutter, and lo! the whole pack went spinning in the air, whirling about like dead leaves in the mistral. And when they came together again the wrong kings and queens were mated; for instance, the Queen of Diamonds was paired with the King of Clubs!"
A wave of color swept over the fair face of the duchess, but she said calmly, "It is said that dreams go by contraries, Fool; therefore yours signifies that the kings will find their proper queens."
But the Lady Clotilde, as the jester afterward said, "pinned him with her eye," and later she said in his ear, "I heard a 'fluttering' behind the armor this afternoon that was not cards, for with it was a faint jingle of bells."
"It must have been a dream, Cousin Clotilde," he returned boldly, but he gnashed his teeth as he thought, "Those wretched bells have betrayed me, though I put up my hands and muffled them."
It was late on the following morning when the watchman blew his horn, and when the Lady Marguerite woke it seemed to her that the palace was unusually quiet. She threw her arms over herhead and smiled happily as one who has pleasant anticipations, for a new game in the courtyard had been promised and it was of that she had thought upon wakening.
The Lady Clotilde entered, followed by a tiring woman. "Her Grace, the Duchess of Brittany, bade me tell your Highness that she was obliged to depart early this morning for reasons which she can not at present explain," said Lady Clotilde. "A proper escort has been provided for you. I shall take charge of you, and in two days we shall start for Amboise."
"The Duchess of Brittany has gone to join my father without a word of farewell to me?" cried the princess, in astonishment. "And she promised so faithfully that I should accompany her as far as possible on her journey!"
"A change of circumstances sometimes necessitates a change of plans, and one is often compelled to break a promise made in good faith. Her Grace bade me assure you upon her honor that no harm shall come to you, and that you shall return to Amboise in safety, and also that neither you nor your nurse shall be reproached for your escapade. And now the mind of your Highness should be at rest. Moreover, she bade me say that since the jester, Le Glorieux, is so devoted to your Highness she has given him to you. And permit me to say upon my own account, that as the singing of the page Antoine la Fitte affords your Highnessso much pleasure I shall feel highly honored if you will deign to accept his services and keep him as your own."
"I thank you," replied the princess. "I shall be delighted to have in my service two servitors who amuse me so much, and who will be as faithful to me as I am sure the Burgundians will be. And I feel that I can safely trust in the promise of the Lady Anne."
"I begin to think that my dream about the cards is likely to come true," said Le Glorieux later to the Lady Clotilde.
"And I think that for you a tongue well behind the teeth is the safest attitude to assume in this case," she returned with a frown.
"That is a strange piece of advice to give, Cousin Clotilde," he replied. "Do you usually talk with your tongue in front of your teeth? I never do."
"You know quite well what I mean," snapped the lady.
The journey from Rennes to Amboise was not a pleasant one, for the fine weather had been succeeded by chill winds, but the litter of Mademoiselle of Austria was furnished with rich furs to protect her from the cold, and with her train of guards and attendants she traveled in a style befitting a princess.
News traveled very slowly in the fifteenth century, and it was not until they had reached Amboisethat the mystery which had so puzzled Marguerite and her friends was explained.
The little Lady Marguerite was received in great state at the palace of Amboise by Anne of Beaujeu, Duchess of Bourbon. This princess was a tall, handsome, and resolute woman. Louis the Eleventh said of her when he named her Regent of France, "She is the least foolish of women," for, being crabbed and disagreeable, he thought all women more or less foolish, but that this stately daughter was the most sensible of her sex.
The clandestine journey of the little princess and her woman was not alluded to by the Duchess of Bourbon, and one would have thought that the escapade of a princess disguised as a peasant was an event of common occurrence.
"And now, Madame," said Marguerite, "perhaps you can tell me why the city of Amboise is draped in cloth of gorgeous colors, and why everywhere is the air of a festival which I can not think is caused by my return."
The little Princess continued to sobThe little Princess continued to sob
"Madame," replied Anne of Beaujeu in even tones, "a matter has been kept from you for some days, for to me was assigned the duty of acquainting you with a certain piece of news. It has been deemed best that the marriages between the houses of Austria and France and Austria and Brittany should be broken off, although both France and Brittany have appreciated the honor of the alliance. Therefore, a marriage has taken placebetween the King of France and the Duchess of Brittany."
"The King of France and the Duchess of Brittany!" exclaimed Marguerite, with flashing eyes. "The King of France was solemnly betrothed tome! Has the treaty of Arras been forgotten? And the King of the Romans, my father, too, has been insulted! Oh, IhateFrance, I hate every inch of it! And the Lady Anne! Why, she told me that she was to marry my father, that she had accepted safe conduct to Austria! And her eyes were so truthful when she said it. Why should she have deceived me when I trusted her, when I—I—loved her so!"
The wound to her heart was greater than that to her pride, and, covering her face with her hands, the little princess wept.
"The Duchess of Brittany expected to be married to Maximilian of Austria when she talked of the matter to you," said Anne of Beaujeu. "It was but a few days before the marriage that she agreed to accept the King of France, an alliance which she was convinced was for the best interests of her people."
"And what is to become of me?" asked Marguerite.
"You shall be sent in the state suited to your rank back to Austria. I beg your Highness to take the matter more philosophically. I greatly deplore the fact that you should have been thuswounded, but in the great affairs of nations personal concerns must take a second place."
The little princess continued to sob, and all withdrew save the jester, who, kneeling at her feet, said gently, "Little Cousin, when the daughter of Austria is ready to wed, the prince of a greater nation than France may be found for her." Then, assuming a lighter tone, he went on, "And a handsomer husband can be easily found than this stunted king. And think of it, little lady, you will shortly see your father!"
"Ah!" cried Marguerite, dashing away her tears and springing to her feet, while a smile dimpled the corners of her mouth, "I had not thought of that! At last I shall see my father! Happy as a peasant child I shall live under his roof! After all, the good God has been gracious to me and has granted my wish."
"And Antoine and I will go with you, leaving the Lady Clotilde carefully behind," cried Le Glorieux. "The Lady Anne has give me to you, and you see I am still, in another way, the Lady Anne's present!"
To go away at that moment, to leave the hated soil of France forevermore, was now the ardent desire of the little princess, but even royal ladies can not always do as they would like, and she was made to realize that some days must elapse before it would be possible for her to set out for her own country, where her father and her brother would be waiting for her.
The chief delight of the princess at this time was in listening to the songs of Burgundy as sung by the tuneful voice of Antoine. Anne of Beaujeu entered her apartments one morning when the boy was singing his Burgundian chansons. That cold and dignified lady was quite favorably impressed by the singer's talent, and requested him to sing a well-known French song.
"Madame," said the princess, "I shall be pleased to have my page sing for you anything that you may fancy, but you will pardon me if I leave the room while he sings of the glories of France!" And she walked out with her head held high in the air.
Cunegunda was now utterly happy. Her migraine had been cured, thanks to Saint Roch or tothe change of air and scene necessitated by the journey to his shrine, and she was going to return to her beloved country.
"Ah, there is a land governed by a majestic ruler, a man who looks like a sovereign," said she proudly. "But the kings of France, pouf! The old king, who was alive when we came, looked like an old peasant, with his claw-like hands and his awkward legs, and the present one, who in the very bloom of his youth should be ruddy and handsome, has a large head and is undersized and is not at all kingly in appearance."
"But let us think only of the real man shut inside of that unprepossessing shell," said Le Glorieux, adding, "There is that clever sentence again; I was afraid I had forgotten it."
"I do not see anything so very clever about it," retorted Dame Cunegunda; "anybody could have thought it out."
"Anybody might think out things, my good Frau," he replied, "but it is the knowing just when to say them that counts. But I have very bad news for you, and instead of discussing my wonderful gift of always being able to say the right thing at the right time, I really should be bathed in tears."
"Has something dreadful happened to my father? Has news come from Austria?" asked Marguerite, in alarm.
"By no means. Calm yourself, my little princess. The King of the Romans may be at thismoment climbing the cliffs to surprise the wary chamois, or he may be defying some unlucky knight to mortal combat in the tournament."
"Then it must have been decided that we are to remain in France," cried Cunegunda. "Oh, unlucky was the day that we ever set foot in this unholy land! I might have known that there was no such good luck for me as to leave it!"
"Now you are preparing to cry," said the jester reproachfully, "and if there is anything in this world I dislike to see it is a woman with her face all wrinkled up ready for a boohoo. Your face is round and rosy, and looks well enough when you let it alone, but ever since I have become acquainted with you, you have been ready to weep at a moment's warning; you have shed at least a barrel of tears, and what good has it done you? Learn a lesson of me and smile at things instead of crying about them."
"I never should want to smile had I so wide a mouth as yours," retorted Cunegunda, forgetting in her indignation that she had not yet learned the news that Le Glorieux had come to tell.
"My mouth is the right width for a man of my height," returned he, "and could not be improved upon. But to return to the matter in hand, I will say right here and now that we are going to sail away as soon as the good ships can be made ready for us."
"Then, what is your news? be not so long abouttelling it," said Marguerite, knitting her straight brows into a frown.
"It is, alas, alas, that Clotilde is going with us to the domains of your royal grandfather!"
"This is news, indeed. Why must she go?"
"It appears that the new Queen of France, who so cleverly slipped into your place, my little princess, and caught the crown as it was about to settle itself upon your golden head—let me see, where was I?"
"What of the Queen of France?" asked Marguerite.
"Oh, yes; Anne wants a lady of her own kin to accompany you to your native country, to escort you, to watch over you; and Clotilde, you know, is a relative of Anne's, though they are about as much alike as Pandora, my hawk, is like a meek little dove. Nature makes a mistake sometimes and links the wrong people together by the ties of blood; I do not know why, but so it is. I had hoped that the shores of France and the sour face of Clotilde would disappear together from my view, but perfect happiness is possible for no one, and moreover, I never was very lucky."
"If the Lady Clotilde is a relative of the young Queen of France, how does it happen that she has lived so long in Burgundy?" asked Cunegunda.
"My good friend," replied the jester, "you may have forgotten that sometimes even the sourest of women have an opportunity to marry. They manageit, I think, by the aid of witchcraft, and in her youth the sharp black eyes of Clotilde captivated a Burgundian noble who afterward was killed in the wars, and probably was glad of it, considering the life she must have led him."
A number of proverbs have been suggested by the fact that people often appear upon the scene while they are being talked about, and just as he finished his sentence the Lady Clotilde parted the curtains that hung at the doorway. She looked as pleased as her usually stern countenance would permit, and she was accompanied by a boy about fourteen years of age. This boy, afterward Duke of Savoy, and called Philibert the Handsome, was so beautiful that it was a joy to look upon him. The contour of his head, his straight nose, and his well-cut lips were as perfect as if they had been carved from marble by the skillful, loving hand of a sculptor, while his brilliant coloring, his dark and shining eyes, were made still more attractive by the expression of his countenance, which was frank and pleasing. For those days, when men and women vied with each other in the selection of gaudy colors, he was quite plainly clad, wearing a suit of dark velvet with no ornaments whatever.
"I wish to present to your Highness a young relative of mine," announced the Lady Clotilde. "He is Philibert, son of the Count de Bresse of Savoy."
The boy kissed the hand Marguerite extendedto him, and the Lady Clotilde continued, "His father is an ally, as your Highness probably knows, of the King of France."
"To gain my favor it is not necessary to be an ally of France," said Marguerite shortly.
"And you are right, Madame," replied the boy quickly. "Were I in my father's place never again would I draw my sword for France, for nations as well as gentlemen should keep their promises."
This reply pleased the princess so much that her heart was won at once, and she smiled brightly upon the boy as Le Glorieux said, "And now tell me, Cousin Clotilde, how this young gentleman happens to be of your kin. He does not resemble you in the least."
"I am not so sure about that," said the lady. "On the contrary, I think that he looks quite as I did at his age, and even now I can trace a great resemblance between his countenance and my own."
"Your eyes are very sharp, my lady, and you possess the gift of seeing things that are visible to no one else," replied the jester.
"So I have been told," she responded, taking the remark as a compliment. "Philibert's mother was a relative of my own, and this is the first time I have seen the lad, who, young as he is, his father takes with him to the wars."
"I wish," said Marguerite shyly, "that yourfather would ally himself with Austria, since you no longer feel friendly toward France."
Philibert colored with pleasure as he replied, "Indeed, your Highness, I should like it of all things, but my father must do as he thinks best."
"Would you like to go to Austria for a time, Philibert?" asked the Lady Clotilde, who seemed to be in an unusually obliging mood. Then she added, "A visit to a foreign court is of great advantage to a youth of rank, and I will see what I can do to induce your father to allow you to make the journey in my company."
There was no need for the boy to make a reply to this question, his beaming face and sparkling eyes being sufficient to convince any who cared to know that the very thought of such a trip made him happy, and the Lady Clotilde left the room with the words of Le Glorieux ringing in her ears, "She will succeed in her attempt, for those who do not obey our Cousin Clotilde from love do so from fear," a doubtful compliment to which she paid no attention. She was quite pleased with the thought of procuring the companionship of this handsome and gracious boy, who, she felt confident, would reflect great credit upon herself.
"Oh, you will be permitted to go with us, I am sure of it!" cried the little princess enthusiastically. "Have you ever sailed in a ship?"
"No, Madame," replied the boy; "I have never been on the sea."
"Nor I, since I can remember it," returned she, "but I long to make a voyage. It must be fine to be so far away from land as to see nothing but the sky and the foam-capped waves, to be on the dark, cold sea and yet be snug and comfortable."
"Once when I was a boy I made a trip on the sea," remarked Le Glorieux, "and I remember that there were times when I was not so snug and comfortable as I could have wished. Believe me, my little princess, you would be much happier traveling on land this time of year than you would be out on the stormy seas. But France will send you home in whatever way it best pleases her, and we shall have but little to say about it."
And it so happened that it was deemed best to send the little princess back to her father by land instead of intrusting her to the sea. This was a disappointment to Marguerite, though she was glad to know that they were to start at once. Already the palace of Amboise was being refitted and refurnished in a style of great magnificence for the new queen, who would not come to occupy it until after her coronation at St. Denis. There was an atmosphere of joy throughout the kingdom in anticipation of the new régime, which was expected to be very different from the terrible days of the previous reign.
Lady Clotilde, who, as the jester had remarked, always managed in some way to get what she wanted, succeeded in persuading the Count deBresse to allow his son to accompany her to Austria, and it was with light hearts that the party set out on the journey, for a trip that has something pleasant at the end of it is always begun joyously, and there is ever a feeling of exhilaration in the thought of seeing a new country. To the little princess her native land would be as an unknown country, for to her it was not even a memory. Not for a moment did she forget her grudge against France. At the first stop they made, when a glass of wine was offered her with an apology for its sourness, she said with a curl of her red lips, "Even the wine is sour in a country that can not keep its promises." And the day they passed through Arras, the town where the treaty was concluded that was to unite her to Charles, and the people ran out with cries of greeting, she turned her head away with a contemptuous reply.
As soon as they crossed the line that divided France from Flanders, Le Glorieux put spurs to his steed and advanced to the side of the litter in which the princess was seated.
"Little Cousin," said he. The curtains were parted and Marguerite's pretty face smiled at him. "You are now in your very own land of Flanders," said he, "the country your mother brought to Austria as her dower."
"And I am glad to be here," replied she. "I could kiss the very soil of the land that is my own!"
The jester now gradually fell behind, and oncemore rode at the rear of the procession. "Why do you always ride so far behind?" asked Philibert, checking his own horse to wait for Le Glorieux.
"Do you want me to tell you the real reason?" asked the fool.
"Certainly I do."
"It is because I wish to spare the feelings of Pittacus."
"The legs, rather," laughed the boy.
"I mean exactly what I say—the feelings," persisted the fool. "Do you not think that a donkey can have feelings as well as a person? Of course he can," he went on, answering his own question. "And do you not think that he is greatly humiliated in a company like this?"
"What is there to humiliate him?" asked Antoine, who rode on the other side of the jester.
"Why, look you, many of the other steeds are mounted by the nobility and bear the richest trappings, while poor unfortunate Pittacus has nothing but a common saddle. Do you not suppose that it cuts him to the heart when he notices the contrast? How would either of you feel to mingle with a gay company where jewels flashed and velvets shimmered, while you wore the coarsest fustian?"
"We should not like it, of course," replied Philibert, "but what does a donkey know about such things?"
"If you should ask him about it, you would be very soon convinced of the truth of what I havetold you, by the reply that he would make," said Le Glorieux.
"Then let us ask him," said Antoine, and immediately raised his voice, saying, "Pittacus, do you mind whether or not you are wearing gay trappings? If you do, just move your right ear." But the donkey refused to make a sign.
"What did I tell you?" asked Antoine mockingly. "He does not know or care what kind of a saddle you have placed on his back."
"He did not hear you," replied the jester.
"I should like to know why he did not hear me; what are such long ears for, if not for use?"
"If you will stop a moment you will see that he will answer me," said Le Glorieux.
"He can not understand conversation when he is walking," said Philibert, laughing.
"Nor well enough to make a reply even when he is standing still," remarked Antoine. "A donkey is nothing but a donkey, and you can make nothing more out of him."
"There are some donkeys, two legged ones, that can not understand things that are told them," retorted the jester, "but if you will stop a moment, you will see that he will answer me. Pittacus is haughty and particular in the choice of his friends, and he will not reply to every jackanapes who asks him a question."
The three stopped and Le Glorieux dismounted, and going close to the donkey's ear, he said, "Pittacus,joy of my heart, it makes you very unhappy to see the other horses dressed so gay while you are wearing your plain old saddle and blanket, I know it does. If I am right, just move your right ear, Pittacus." And Pittacus did move his right ear, and that quite vigorously.
"Now what have you to say?" asked his master triumphantly.
"You touched him with the point of your dagger and that was the cause of it," said Philibert.
"I did nothing of the kind. See, I will ask him the same question again with my hands clasped behind me. If you meant what you said just now, move your right ear again, Pittacus." Again the donkey's long ear moved as before, and, mounting him, the fool said with great satisfaction, "I hope you will believe a thing when you have seen it with your own eyes, and perhaps you will be careful in what you say about him in his presence."
"I do not see that we need to be so very cautious in what we say, since he does not seem to understand what is said to him, even by you, until the question is bawled into his ear," said Philibert.
"He does not take the trouble to answer unless some one he respects talks into his ear; in fact, he hears no questions asked by ordinary people, but he would hear any gossip about himself, for all that," replied Le Glorieux.
Antoine was very much surprised at the superior intelligence of the donkey, but he did not pursuethe subject further. It was a popular belief at this period that animals actually could talk on Christmas Eve, and if this were true, he did not see any reason why they should not be able to move their ears in reply to a question at any time of the year. But Philibert, although he kept perfectly quiet regarding the matter, suspected the truth, which was that with the word "Pittacus" at the end of the sentence the jester blew into the donkey's ear, which caused the animal to move his generous organ of hearing. He was also convinced that it was not the sensitiveness of the animal to the fine trappings of the other horses that kept him in the rear, but that it was because he was too fat and lazy to keep up a brisk pace.
It was a tiresome journey, though they stopped at the towns, and sometimes were entertained at the mansion of some noble family along the route. Not far from Cologne the princess called to Le Glorieux, who, though there were plenty of attendants to see that she was comfortable, was in the habit of riding forward once in a while to make sure that she needed nothing, "I am told that we are not far from Castle Hohenberg," said she. "Ask two of the gentlemen to ride on and notify them of our coming."
"May I accompany them?" asked the fool.
"Certainly, if you like."
"And I should like to exchange horses with one of the guards."
"Why?"
"Because my donkey, Pittacus, is so sensitive."
"Sensitive?" repeated the princess, looking puzzled.
"Pittacus, little Cousin, is perfectly well aware of the shabbiness of his wardrobe, and to prance into a castle courtyard caparisoned as he is, with two other horses that are well dressed, would be more painful to him than to enter in a crowd where he would not be so likely to be noticed."
"Just as you please," replied the princess, smiling. "One of the guards will exchange steeds with you."
"See the fibs your utter indolence and indifference force me to tell," muttered the fool, as he rode away from the litter. "It is I who am sensitive, and on account of your slowness, but all this does not seem to have the least effect upon you or to make you go a jot faster."
Having exchanged with one of the guards, who did not seem at all anxious to make the trade, Le Glorieux galloped gayly away with the two gentlemen, very glad to be one of the first to arrive at the castle.
Some youths and maidens had been to the woodsSome youths and maidens had been to the woods
Wrapped in his robes of crimson, the sun was sinking behind the forest trees when Le Glorieux and his two companions came in sight of the family seat of the Von Hohenbergs. The building was a grim old structure, turreted and rugged, which had seen two centuries come and go, and seemedable to greet many more. Some youths and maidens who had been to the wood to gather fagots were singing and chattering as if the world for them had not a care, though they possessed but the mere necessaries of life. The count and countess had not yet returned from the chase, so the strangers were informed by the haughty seneschal, who immediately softened and almost groveled when informed that the Lady Marguerite of Hapsburg was about to honor the castle with her presence, while every being under that roof seemed to be on the alert to put the best foot foremost, in order properly to receive the little princess. Even Le Glorieux was treated with a degree of deference that caused him to throw back his shoulders and strut about with a great deal of pride.
Soon the sound of a hunting horn was heard, and a company of ladies and gentlemen dashed through the gate with hawks on their wrists and followed by hounds. They seemed more quiet and less happy than the fagot-gatherers, Le Glorieux thought, and he wondered if they were really as happy as those young people who were working for their daily bread.
The Count and Countess Von Hohenberg were very pleasant elderly people, with a large family of sons and daughters, and a number of relatives who always lived with them, so their household was a very large one. They were charmed to hear of the unexpected arrival of the princess, who with hersuite soon rode through the gates and received a hearty welcome. A bright fire was snapping in the broad fireplace of the great hall, and did its part in cheering the fatigued and chilled travelers. The guests were conducted to their rooms, which, if they did not contain the luxuries afforded by the sleeping apartments in the mansions of the rich of the present day, were at least comfortable, though the huge beds, with their ghostly hangings, looked as if they might invite the nightmare.
It was a merry company which surrounded the supper table, where Marguerite was, of course, given the seat of honor. Great indignation was expressed at the double insult offered their country by France. "I have heard," said the count, "that Austria has taken up an alliance with England and Spain, so France may learn to fear the house of Hapsburg and its powerful friends."
"And France is no longer governed by the sly and scheming Louis, but by the weakling Charles," said one of the gentlemen.
"I think you are wrong to call Charles a weakling," remarked Le Glorieux, who was sitting on a low stool at the side of his mistress, with his plate in his lap. "Charles has a dimple in his chin, which may mean weakness, but he also has a nose of great size, which may mean anything that is bad for his neighbors."
Just as he finished this speech a mournful shriek was heard outside, which very nearly made thefool drop his plate. "What was that horrible noise?" he gasped.
"It was only the wind whistling about the turrets," replied the count, laughing. "The night is growing colder and the wind is rising."
"I thought it was the wail of a witch," said the jester.
"Send for Antoine that he may sing the witch song he gave us one night in Rennes," said the Lady Marguerite. "It is like the howl of the wind."
A servant was sent to fetch the boy, who came with his lute and took a seat by the fire, where he sang the witch song to such words as suited his fancy, for he was not playing a joke upon his friend as when he had sung at the court of Brittany, but was now anxious to please this merry company of ladies and gentlemen. He told how a beauteous maiden with a lovely voice was carried away one dark night by a witch, and changed into a nightingale, where, lingering about her former home, she nightly poured forth the woes of her heart in song. This production received such high praise from the listeners that Antoine blushed very red, and did not know whether to look up the chimney or at the floor, to hide his confusion. Upon learning that he had set his own words to his own music, one of the ladies wanted to know whether the story was true, and if the unhappy maiden really had been thus bewitched. But Antoine was obliged to admit that he had not a personal acquaintance with thenightingale maiden, intimating that the young woman was merely a creature of his imagination. To-day this would seem a strange question to ask in all seriousness, but, as has already been said, the existence of witches and hobgoblins was taken as a matter of course in those days.
Then they began to talk of the tricks played by witches, and while none of the company could say that he or she ever had actually seen a witch, still almost everybody had a story to tell that had been related by people who had seen those mysterious and treacherous females.
"My mother often talked with witches," said the Lady Clotilde in that decided way of hers which seemed to defy anybody to doubt her word. "And they caused her a great deal of annoyance," she went on. "One day when my mother was fastening a veil to her cap, a witch suddenly appeared and said, 'Oh, what a pretty cap! And that lace is as delicate as frostwork! Let me try it on, do!' And before my mother could say 'yes' or 'no,' the witch had snatched the cap and put it on her head, and with a shrill laugh vanished through the keyhole!"
"How did she get the cap through the keyhole?" asked Le Glorieux.
"That is no more wonderful than getting herself through the keyhole, is it?" asked the lady tartly, annoyed by the query.
"No," returned the fool, "I do not think it is."
"Then do not interrupt with silly questions," said she.
"I can tell a story of something that happened over a hundred years ago, in this very house, to one of my husband's ancestors," said the countess. Everybody shivered with expectancy, while the wind outside howled louder than ever; Antoine turned his back to the fire so that it would not be convenient for anything to grab him from that direction, while even Philibert, who was two years older, and who sat beside the countess, regretted vaguely that the dagger at his side would be of no avail against witches. For it seemed that if such creatures ever would feel an inclination to meddle with the affairs of mortals, this old castle with its vast rooms and dark corners would be the scene of their liveliest performances.
"As I said," began the countess, "it was a hundred years ago. The Lady Iolantha, whose father and brothers had all been killed in the wars, lived here alone. She was the most beautiful woman of her time, and she was betrothed to her cousin, Count Wolfgang, who had inherited the title without the wealth, for the money all had come from her mother's side of the house, and there was nothing left for the count but the empty castle, which he scorned to take unless the lady should come with it.
"Iolantha, who was willful, detested her cousin, having bestowed her affections upon a wanderingminstrel by the name of Rudolph Eberhard, a handsome youth, and one who sang in a most charming voice. He lingered here day after day, and sang so many songs in praise of her beauty that she determined to marry him, come what would. Wolfgang was not a man to win the heart of a maiden, for, though young, he had a dark, forbidding countenance, and a harsh, discordant voice. Every one feared him, and it was believed by many that he was in league with evil spirits."
"A cheerful kind of an ancestor, that one of yours," remarked Le Glorieux to the count.
"But he lived a hundred years ago; his blood has been filtered away by this time, at least all that was bad in it," said the countess. "The Count Wolfgang knew that his cousin cared nothing for him, still he was determined to hold her to her promise, and he was resolved, by fair means or foul, to get the young minstrel out of the way." The countess now unclasped a girdle that hung loosely about her waist, with long ends coming almost to the floor, and held it up that all might see it. It was made of flexible silver fretwork, and was set with emeralds. "There is a tradition that when this girdle is lost by the Von Hohenbergs their luck will go with it," went on the countess, "so Iolantha cherished it very highly. One night after dancing in the great hall, a dance in which Rudolph was her partner, the girdle suddenly disappeared in a manner that was most unaccountable.They searched everywhere, but it could not be found, and one by one the servants were accused, but all to no avail. Then tauntingly Wolfgang demanded that Rudolph be searched. Iolantha indignantly refused to have this done, deeming the very suggestion an insult to the man she loved and respected. But without more ado Wolfgang walked up to the young minstrel, and tearing open his doublet, found the girdle concealed on the inside of it."
"I suspected as much," remarked Le Glorieux, who, like every one else, had been very much interested in the story. "You see," he went on, "the minstrel was dancing with the lady, and it would be easy enough for him to unclasp the girdle and hide it in the folds of his mantle until he had a chance to tuck it away in his doublet."
"But wait," said the countess. "Rudolph was as much surprised as any one else and declared that he did not know how it came there."
"He, would naturally make that very remark," observed the fool.
"But Rudolph had not taken the girdle," said the countess triumphantly. "The Count Wolfgang was in league with witches, and it was by their spells that the girdle had come into the minstrel's possession. Servants told the story to their children, and so on down, of how that very night they had heard the witches singing their wild songs, and the old housekeeper saw them dancing in the moonlight.She said they were dressed in a gray, misty material like cobwebs."
"Did Iolantha marry the minstrel?" asked the princess.
"No, your Highness. There was nothing to prove that the witches did the trick, and she could not marry a man with so deep a stain upon his good name. So Rudolph marched away to the crusades, and Iolantha married Count Wolfgang."
"And she did a sensible thing," said Le Glorieux decisively. "I have distrusted that minstrel ever since you brought him into the story, which teaches that the man who does a wicked thing is bound to come out at the small end of the horn."
"Thank you, Fool," said the count, laughing. "You have cleared the good name of my ancestor and you are the first one in all these years to say a word in his favor, all preferring to take sides with the handsome minstrel."
The next morning a royal messenger arrived with a letter for the little princess, and Le Glorieux, who was present when she received it, saw that tears were rolling down her cheeks when she had finished reading it. "What is it, little Cousin?" asked the jester. "Strange that a mere piece of paper should stir you up like this."
"Oh, Le Glorieux," cried Marguerite, "my father does not love me!" And covering her face with her handkerchief, she burst into sobs.
"Well, now that is another strange thing," said he, sitting down at her feet and clasping his hands about his knees, while he surveyed her thoughtfully. "His Royal Highness takes the trouble to send a messenger across the country to tell his little daughter that he does not love her, when it would have been so much easier to let this wonderful piece of news wait until he stood face to face with her."
The princess patted her foot impatiently on the floor while the jester was speaking, then she said, restraining her sobs with an effort, "I have been so impatient to see him that I could scarcely wait for the days to pass, and every morning when I havewakened during our journey I have said to myself, 'One more day is off the list, and I am so many more leagues nearer to him than I was at this time yesterday.' And although the Countess Von Hohenberg is very kind, and has begged me to remain here for a time, still I wanted to go this very day," and again she began to sob.
"Yes," said the jester, "I understand your side of the question, and now I wonder if you won't tell me just what Max writes in his letter, and I will help you to decide just what he means by it."
"He—he—s-s-ays that we are to remain at Castle Hohenberg for three or four days in order that I may recover from the fatigue of the journey. It is c-c-cruel!"
"It certainly is very cruel," replied Le Glorieux. "Odd that there should be such unnatural fathers in the world! A man must have a heart of flint to want his daughter to rest after a long journey."
"I do not at all consider this a subject for jest," said the little lady, surveying the jester indignantly through her tears.
"Looking at the matter broadly, I should say that it was just as much a subject for jesting as for weeping. Will your small Highness tell me what there is in all this to cry about? Do you not know that it is very foolish to cry about little things, and that the tears of even a princess are just as salt as those of anybody else, and if called up in abundance will make her eyes and nose just as red as those ofa dairy maid who cries over a pail of spilled milk?"
"Le Glorieux," said Marguerite solemnly, "if my father is as anxious to see me as I am to see him, he would write 'Hurry, hurry,' in his letter instead of telling me to wait."
"Would you write 'Hurry, hurry,' to him if he were coming to you on a tiresome trip?"
"Indeed I would! I would say, 'Hurry, and hurry, and hurry again, for I long to embrace you.' Only think, I have lived for eight long years with no one near me but Cunegunda who really loves me, and none of my own blood to touch my brow with a kiss!"
"I do not know," said the fool reflectively, "how I should feel were there none near me to love me save Cunegunda, but I need not worry about that, for Cunegunda, if I read her aright, is not burned up with affection for me; but what you say proves to me that you are not really so fond of your father as he is of you."
"You are dreaming; what do you mean by such words?" asked the princess, wiping her eyes and looking haughtily at the jester. "I adore my father; he is dearer to me than all the crowns of the world."
"It is this way," said Le Glorieux; "as I remark probably once a day more or less, I am nothing but a fool, but nevertheless I say a good many wise things, and I think a good many more. Very oftenwhen I remain perfectly quiet my silence counts for a good deal, for I am thinking very hard about something. But as I was going to say, when one has the right kind of affection for another, there is not a grain of selfishness in it. Your father is just as anxious to see you as you are to see him, still at the same time he thinks of your comfort first and of his own wishes next."
"Do you think so, really?" asked Marguerite, smiling, then asked, "But why could he not have come to me himself instead of sending a messenger?"
"Kings and princes can not go about as they please, though they are always supposed to be doing what they like to do," replied Le Glorieux. "A king can not even marry to please himself. He may say, 'I do not want a wife, I prefer to be a bachelor.' The state says, 'Not a bit of it; you must marry.' Then the state picks out a wife for him. If she is pretty and agreeable he is lucky, but if she has a horrible squint and the temper of a tigress and the state says, 'Marry her,' why, marry her he must. Just now your father is probably cooking up a lot of schemes against France for its treatment of you and himself, and he is telling Spain and England how dearly he always loved them, and he is figuring out the lands that France ought to restore to him in return for his great disappointment, so he has no time to rush away to see his little daughter."
"Oh, Le Glorieux, you have made me so happy!" cried the princess, with shining eyes. "Then you think my father really is very fond of me!"
"I am sure of it, and I am sure that he will be still fonder of you when he sees you, for two reasons: one is that you look a good deal like himself, and the other that you will look at him with the very eyes of your mother."
"The marriage of my father and mother was a happy one, was it not, Le Glorieux?"
"Yes, little Cousin, that was one of the times when duty and inclination went hand in hand. That marriage was the best possible thing for both their countries, and the young couple were in love with each other from the moment when they first stood face to face, your beautiful mother being just a young slip of a girl, and your father but eighteen years of age. He was only twenty-three when she died, and he is still a young man, not so far past the first bloom of his youth."
The princess never tired of talking of her father and of her fair young mother, whose faces were known to her only from their portraits. Her brother, who was two years her senior, she often thought about, but it was her father who possessed the larger share of her affection.
It has been remarked of the Lady Clotilde that she always contrived to stir up some kind of commotion wherever she happened to be, and this journeywas no exception to the general rule. The story of the emerald girdle, related by the countess the previous night, reminded the Lady Clotilde that she too owned a jewel which was said to bring good luck to her family, and the loss of which was to be followed by results too fearful to contemplate. It was a large moonstone, set as a pendant and surrounded by rubies. It had been curiously cut by an old Italian lapidary of the previous century, and represented a woman's face, which seemed to change its expression as the colors glimmering in the stone caught the light. This ornament had a great fascination for Le Glorieux. In former days when the Lady Clotilde had wished a special favor from Charles the Bold, she often managed to obtain it through Le Glorieux, who would first make his master laugh, and then while he was in this genial frame of mind the jester would present his petition in the cleverest way it could be framed. And being too penurious to reward her agent with a piece of money, the lady would say, "Le Glorieux, you may clean my jewels, for I know it must be a great pleasure to you to hold them in the sunlight and see them flash," and, while pretending to grant a favor to the jester, managed to gain one for herself.
Of all her trinkets, and she had many and valuable ones, none so charmed the fool as the moonstone pendant. Held in certain lights, the face seemed to dimple and smile upon him; in others, it was the face of a witch, or a gorgon, thosedreadful beings the very sight of which would turn mortals into stone.
This ornament the Lady Clotilde was resolved to show to the countess, and descant on its history and its great value. With eager hands she unlocked the box of scented wood where the ornament was kept, and lo, the pendant was missing! Could she believe her eyes? In an agony of anxiety she tossed the jewels about, finally emptying the contents of the casket on the bed, where they flashed and glimmered like captive stars sending forth red, blue, and green lights. Frantically she picked them up one by one and shook them, but no moonstone was there!