"It is gone, it is gone!" groaned the Lady Clotilde"It is gone, it is gone!" groaned the Lady Clotilde
"It is gone, it is gone!" groaned the Lady Clotilde; then she sank to the floor and began to think of the many terrible things that might be expected to happen to that unlucky member of the family who should allow the stone to go out of his or her possession, the very thought of which made her tremble with terror. Calming herself at last, she reflected that some one must have taken the pendant, since such articles do not rise of their own accord, climb out of their boxes, and go swaggering about the world like a knight in search of adventure. And now the question was, who had taken it? She was sure that none but her own attendants had been near her room, but stay! a maid belonging to the countess had entered the room shortly after their arrival to bring a cup of hot mulled winewhich the Lady Clotilde always required, or desired, which amounted to the same thing with her, after a journey in cold weather. She remembered that she had opened the casket and was just about to take out her ruby chain, which she considered a most becoming ornament for her more than generous length of neck, when the maid entered with the wine, and the girl must have slipped the moonstone from the box while the lady was sipping the contents of the cup. She recalled the appearance of the maid, a pale young creature with large startled dark eyes. She no doubt had thought that among so many handsome trinkets the loss of one never would be noticed by this rich and noble lady. The minx would find herself mistaken, however, for the Lady Clotilde was determined to report her loss at once, and to recover her property if it should become necessary to tear the castle down, stone by stone, in order to find it!
As it never had been her custom to delay after making a plan, she immediately stalked down the stone steps leading to the floor below, and entering the salon where the countess and her guests were whiling away the time at cards or with their embroidery, she advanced at once to her hostess. "Madame," said she, "I have lost a jewel. A valuable heirloom which has been in my possession, or rather in that of my family, for a hundred years, has disappeared from my casket."
"I am deeply grieved to hear it, Madame," saidthe countess, rising to her feet, "and I sincerely hope that you will be so fortunate as to find it again."
"Iwillbe so fortunate as to find it again—I will, I will in spite of everything," replied the Lady Clotilde excitedly.
"Pray calm yourself, Cousin Clotilde," said Le Glorieux, who was lounging in the window seat. "Try to collect yourself, else I am afraid you will go into a fit. The veins in your forehead are as big as my smallest finger, and you are quite purple in the face."
"Anything that we can do to recover your jewel for you shall be done most gladly, Madame," said the countess. "I will send servants to your apartments to search for it."
"There have been too many of your servants in my apartments already," retorted the other rudely. "I want no searching there; I want the culprit searched and brought to justice as quickly as possible."
"Most assuredly, if we can discover who the culprit is."
"I know who it is," cried the Lady Clotilde. "It is that pale creature who came yesterday afternoon with my mulled wine, a girl with big dark eyes."
"Oh, that was Cimburga; she would not rob you of your gems, Madame. She is an orphan whose parents and grandparents died in our service. She can be thoroughly trusted. Without counting it, Ishould not be afraid to leave a lapful of gold in her care."
"Your confidence does but little honor to your judgment, Madame," said the injured one, "and what I have lost is of far more consequence than a lapful of gold."
Le Glorieux left his place in the window and came forward, saying, "You seem to be in a terrible state of mind, Cousin Clotilde; I have not seen you in such agitation since the news came to Burgundy of the battle of Nancy. What is the gewgaw which you seem to have valued as life itself?"
"It was the moonstone pendant. You know what it means to me to lose it."
"What, the carved lady who winks her eyes while you look at her?"
The Lady Clotilde nodded.
"This is indeed serious," remarked the jester. "If you but knew, Madame Countess, of the awful things written down to happen to the last possessor of that stone, you would be chilled to the bone. Why, death by slow strangulation would be a pleasure to some of the tortures she will suffer if she does not find it again."
"Some, in fact most, of those old traditions are mere myths," said the countess reassuringly.
"You do not consider them myths when they are connected with your girdle," returned Lady Clotilde tartly.
"At any rate the article must be found if possible,"said the countess. "Are you very sure, Madame, that you had it when you came here?"
"Of course I am sure that I had it when I came here! Since we left Amboise no one has touched my valuables save myself."
"If you are sure of that, then, no one is to blame for having mislaid it save yourself," said the jester.
"It has not been mislaid; it has been stolen," cried the Lady Clotilde in the highest key of indignation. "I heard that black-eyed girl take it."
"You mean Cimburga?" asked the countess.
"If that is what you call her, yes."
"That girl would not steal," said Le Glorieux. "I watched her this morning while she was feeding the doves. They ate from her hand and perched on her shoulders, and she laughed like a little child. She is as innocent as the doves themselves."
"What do you know about it?" asked the Lady Clotilde. "There is no subject in this world about which you do not give your opinion."
"Why not, since I have plenty of opinions and all are welcome to them?"
"I tell you that black-eyed girl is the one who stole my jewel!"
"Pray calm yourself, my dear lady, and let us get at the bottom of this affair," said the countess soothingly. "You say that you heard Cimburga take the ornament. Was it in the night? If so, you may have been dreaming."
"Suppose it had been in the night, the fact thatmy pendant is missing would show that I was not dreaming, would it not?" asked the Lady Clotilde with some reason. "But I was not asleep; on the contrary, it was while I was drinking my hot wine with the girl waiting that my valuable disappeared." The idea that Cimburga had robbed her was now so thoroughly fixed in the lady's mind that she was almost ready to assert that she had seen the girl take it from the box. "I had sent my tiring woman to the bedchamber of Lady Ravenstein to borrow a needleful of gold thread, for the trimming of my bodice was slightly frayed and needed mending. During her absence I opened my casket to select the jewels best suited to wear with my change of costume. Just then the girl entered with the wine, which I turned to drink, and I now recall that I heard distinctly a slight click behind me, as the jewels would have rattled if disturbed, and to-day my precious heirloom is missing."
"It was missing then, if somebody took it then," remarked the jester. "But stay, can a thing be missing until somebody misses it? I shall have to think that out carefully some day when I have more time."
"Let us say nothing to Cimburga about it until we have searched," said the countess. She left the room and was absent for some time. When she returned, she said, "I went to the dormitory where all the maids sleep and searched everywhere and all through Cimburga's poor little effects, but nojewel of any kind did I find. There was a wooden cross attached to a black ribband which she wears on Sundays and fête days, but that was all in the way of a trinket that could be seen."
"Is it reasonable to suppose that a girl who could slyly filch my property would put it where it could be found?" asked the Lady Clotilde.
"Is there anything unusual in the girl's manner?" asked Lady Ravenstein, one of Marguerite's suite, who had remained perfectly quiet up to this time. "If this be her first offense she may betray herself by an agitated manner."
"She has seemed unhappy to-day," the countess admitted reluctantly. "I stopped her a moment ago in the hall leading to the servants' quarters, and I noticed that there were tears on her cheeks."
"I was sure of it!" cried the Lady Clotilde. "She was crying because she was afraid she would be discovered. I insist that she be brought before us and that she be accused of her crime."
"But let her not be accused harshly," said the little princess, who had been listening intently to all that had been said. "The maid may not be guilty; but if so, and it is her first offense, let us be merciful."
"All I ask is my moonstone pendant, your Highness," said the Lady Clotilde. "And although I think she should be severely punished for taking it from me, still she is not my servant and I have no right to insist upon her chastisement."
A page was sent to notify Cimburga that she was wanted, and she came at once, glancing about the room to see what there was for her hands to do, for she supposed that she had been sent for to perform a task.
"Let me question her, Madame," said the Lady Clotilde, and reluctantly the countess consented to oblige her guest, though she felt that she could best have managed the matter herself.
"What have you done with the locket you took from my casket yesterday afternoon?" asked the Lady Clotilde harshly.
The girl, who was pretty, and timid as a fawn of the wildwood, opened wide her eyes, and, gazing at the questioner in surprise, made no reply.
"I say," went on her tormentor in a louder tone, "what did you do with the ornament you took from my box yesterday? You slipped it out, you know, while I was sipping the wine you brought me."
"I, lady? I do not know of what you are speaking," replied Cimburga, in amazement.
"You know perfectly well of what I am speaking. You took it from my casket, I heard you, though you may think I did not, and now where is it?"
"I know nothing of it, Madame."
"Come now, that kind of a reply will not do. You have my moonstone in your possession and you must restore it to me at once."
"Madame, I am telling you the truth; I neverhave taken the smallest thing that did not belong to me, and of that my lady mistress will assure you."
"I can attest the truth of that statement, Cimburga," said her mistress gently, "but if you have been tempted by the sparkle of gems,—and you have a girl's love for things that glitter, even though you are in a lowly walk in life,—if you have taken the lady's ornament, as she seems certain that you have done, restore it to her. And this being your first offense, I promise you that your punishment shall be light."
"But, my mistress, how can I restore what I have not taken?" asked the girl simply.
"Talk about this being her first offense; if so, I am quite sure it will not be her last one, for she is as hardened as one old in crime," said the Lady Clotilde.
Then her mistress said, turning to the girl, "If you are innocent, if your conscience does not trouble you, why were you weeping this morning?"
Cimburga made no reply, but putting her apron to her face, began to sob.
"Come, answer me," said the countess gently.
"My dear and gracious mistress, do not ask me why I was weeping, for I can not tell you," sobbed the girl.
"You might as well tell us," said the Lady Clotilde, "for we are bound to know it sooner or later."
"I will never tell, I will go to my death first," said the girl desperately.
"You deserve to go to your death, since you are so stubborn," said the Lady Clotilde vindictively. "But give me back my jewel, and you shall be troubled no more so far as I am concerned."
"I can not give you what I have not got. I call upon all the saints to witness that I know nothing of the object which you have lost."
"She does but blaspheme," said the Lady Clotilde coldly. "Let her be handed over to the law."
The punishment for all kinds of crime was most severe at this time, and it is no wonder that Cimburga sobbed convulsively as she was taken from the room.
This unfortunate incident cast a gloom over the company. It was easy to see that the countess was unhappy about the accusation that had been made against the young girl who was under her own protection. The Lady Clotilde was sulky and restless, while the others seemed to be puzzled by what had happened. When the gentlemen, who had been hunting, returned to the castle, they were told of the occurrence of the morning, and most of those who gave an opinion were inclined to agree with the owner of the jewel that Cimburga was guilty, even the count expressing grave doubts as to her innocence. Cimburga was nothing but a servant, therefore was more than likely to be the thief.
"I wish," said Le Glorieux to Philibert, "that we had left Clotilde in France. I have been acquaintedwith her for a number of years, and I have never known a time when there was not some kind of agitation on her account. She is always just coming, or just going, or is looking for something that she can not find, or is doing something or other to make everybody around her restless. She is like a whirlwind that picks up leaves and sticks and slams them about. I know that she is your relative, but that is not your fault, my lad, and I respect you none the less for it. We should be judged by our friends and not by our relatives, for we select our own friends. It is a great pity that we are not allowed to select our own relatives too, since we are obliged to see so much of them. I know plenty of people who would have an entire new set of relatives if the thing could be managed."
"Le Glorieux," said Philibert, "I do not believe that the maid stole the moonstone any more than that I took it myself."
"I am not so sure that she is innocent," said Antoine. "Why should she have been weeping at such a rate?"
"Why should anybody weep?" asked Philibert. "For a hundred things. It is no sign because people have been crying that they have also been stealing."
"Let us ask Saint Monica if Cimburga is guilty," suggested the countess the following day. "Our Saint Monica is wonderful," continued she, turning to her guests. "She was placed in her present positionby one of the Countesses Von Hohenberg, whose prayers for the reformation of an undutiful son were answered, for you know Saint Monica herself knows what it is to weep for a dissipated son, being the mother of the blessed Saint Augustine, who was very wild until miraculously changed to a saint. They say that when persons accused of a crime are made to pass before her their innocence or guilt may be proven at once, for if innocent the saint will make a sign, but if guilty she will remain immovable."
"Has she ever been seen to move when put to the test?" asked the Lady Clotilde.
"Never in our time," said the count, replying to the question. "In my grandfather's time it is said that a youth, accused of stealing a gold image from the chapel, passed before the saint and asked if he was innocent, and she raised her hand and bowed her head. Many others have tried it since, but they were all guilty, for the saint made no sign."
"We will put Cimburga to the test to-night," said the countess. "The moon will be bright by ten o'clock, and at that time we shall not have so many spectators as we should have during the day."
They started out to see this wonderful saintThey started out to see this wonderful saint
Le Glorieux and the two boys started out to see this wonderful saint. She stood in the forest within a five minutes' walk from the castle, in front of a great oak. She was a painted wooden figure about five feet in height, and she had been scorchedby the summer sun and pelted by rainstorms until her garments were all a dull gray, her face, partly concealed by her nun's coif, wearing a self-satisfied simper not at all consistent with her garb.
"The good saint is not a tall woman," said Philibert, eying her critically. He walked all around the figure, mounted a stone behind it, and examined it closely. "Some day she will move when they least expect it," he said, "for she is not secure on her pedestal, and a storm will blow her over."
In spite of the fact that a late hour had been set for the visit to the saint, and the matter was supposed to be a secret carefully kept from the servants, when the time came to start a curious crowd gathered and followed the supposed culprit, her master and mistress and their guests, to the statue of Saint Monica.
By Cimburga's side walked a tall young man who was said to be the miller's son, and whose presence beside the accused was viewed with considerable astonishment by those who knew him, for his father was well-to-do, and his station was above that of Cimburga. The face of the girl was radiant with happiness, and those who observed her tranquil countenance wondered why she exhibited so little agitation at a time when she might be supposed to be in a state of despair.
It was a very solemn procession that walked out on that moonlight night. At present there existcomparatively few people who would expect a wooden saint to move, even from a motive so noble as to prove the innocence of an accused person; but, as has already been said, many strange things were believed in the fifteenth century.
Even all whispering ceased as they approached the saint. The princess, warmly wrapped in fur, was riding a little mule, and as Le Glorieux walked beside her she slipped a cold hand into his with a shiver of fear, and all stepped softly over the frosty ground as if fearful of something, they knew not what. The wind swept through the trees, rustling the dry leaves. Was the saint already moving? No, it was only the shadow of a limb, which, stirred by the wind, swayed above her head.
"Hist!" said the castle chaplain, though there was no need to call for silence, as none at that moment felt in the least like talking. Then, in a solemn voice, the priest invoked the saint to deign to decide the fate of the accused maiden then standing before her. Was she innocent of the sin of theft?
He paused, there was a breathless moment of expectancy, thenSaint Monica really did move. There was no doubt about it. She bowed her head and raised her right hand! All saw her do it, as they would tell their children, and their children's children, for years to come. The priest murmured some words in Latin, then all returned immediately to the castle, for none seemed inclined to remainin the neighborhood of the saint who so kindly had set their minds at rest. All gathered in the chapel, where a Te Deum was sung, as it had been sung for the first time when the son of Saint Monica was converted.
As soon as the exercises in the chapel were concluded the little princess retired to her own apartments, whispering to Le Glorieux as she passed him, "Bring Cimburga and the miller's son to me, and let no one else accompany you."
Marveling at this summons, and wondering what the daughter of their future emperor could have to say to them, now that Saint Monica had decided in the girl's favor, settling the question of her innocence, the young couple followed the jester. The Lady Marguerite had dismissed even Cunegunda, and was all alone when they entered the room. She sat in a large chair, and in a rather unprincess-like fashion, for she had been chilled in the cold chapel, and she had drawn her feet up under the folds of her velvet gown. After the young couple had knelt at her feet, and had saluted her according to the custom of the time, she bade them stand before her, and Le Glorieux said with great frankness, "I will leave the room if you say so, little Princess; but to be strictly honest about it, I should like mightily to stay and hear what you have to say to these young folk, and you may be sure that I shall not mention it to a soul."
"It is not a secret," replied the princess; "I wasonly afraid that they might be embarrassed by an audience."
"They will not be embarrassed by my presence," said he quickly, "for a fool in a room is of no more importance than a cat."
"You make yourself of small account when it is to gain your own ends, but stay, if you like," she returned, laughing.
"And as I do like, I will stay," he returned, sitting down on the floor beside her chair.
The young couple, standing, blushing and abashed before her, gazed with awe at the little maiden, who seemed almost lost in the embrace of the huge chair in which she sat. But when they saw that her eyes were soft and shining, that her lips were curved into a friendly smile, they forgot for the moment that she was of royal blood, and would, doubtless, one day wear the crown of a mighty kingdom. A silver griffin of a sconce near by held a light in its claws, which fell full upon Cimburga and the miller's son. The latter was tall and straight, with an honest, noble countenance, and certainly there were many ladies who were not half so pretty as Cimburga. The little princess wondered why these humble people should be so handsome, and concluded that the good God had given them personal comeliness to make up for lack of worldly goods, for certainly the athletic figure of the youth could have been no handsomer clad in velvet and satin than in the plain garmentshe now wore, and the flash of jewels could have made the eyes of Cimburga no brighter than they were at this moment.
"Your name is Cimburga?" said Marguerite, addressing the girl; "that is a Polish name."
"Yes, your Highness, it is the name of my grandmother, who was born in Poland, and who was given the name of the mother of his Imperial Majesty, the grandfather of your gracious Highness."
"That is a mixture of relatives that makes my head ache," observed Le Glorieux.
"Then it may be wise for you to leave the room," replied the princess slyly.
"If I did anything wise I would not be a fool," he returned; "therefore I stay."
"It is true," said Marguerite, "that my great grandmother was Cimburga of Poland, and it is from her, they say, that the archduke, my father, inherited his great physical strength. And now, Cimburga, I want you to answer my questions and do not be afraid, for no harm shall come to you from anything you may say to me. That you did not commit the crime of which you are accused we all know now, and I felt from the first, but why had you been crying even before you were accused?"
The girl dropped her eyes and a very pretty color dyed her cheeks.
"Your Highness," she faltered, playing restlessly with the cord that laced her bodice, "it was becauseI was afraid that Karl and I could never wed. His father, your Highness, is a miller and a man of means, and he wishes his son to marry the weaver's daughter, who can bring him a dowry, while I have nothing. And I had reason to believe that he was ready to obey his father; but when this great trouble was sent upon me he came to say that he cared only for me, that he believed in my innocence, and that he would stand by my side let happen what would. And after that, your Highness, I was not afraid of anything that might come."
"Karl is a worthy youth," said the princess. "I have heard my good confessor say that there is nothing more beautiful in this world than the love that brings our friends to our side when fortune frowns, and that good friends are the stars that shine all the brighter when night is darkest. But it is not right to disobey one's parents, and you would not wed without your father's consent?"
Karl was about to reply, when Cimburga said quickly, "No, your Highness, but even if his father should never be willing for us to wed, it is a joy to know that he cares for me, and that when all others were against me he still had faith in me."
A greater dowry than the weaver's daughter'sA greater dowry than the weaver's daughter's
The little princess now realized that it is sometimes a great pleasure to be a person whose authority can be felt. She at once made up her mind that the mercenary miller should give his consent to the match, and that willingly, even gladly.
"What is the size of the dowry that this fortunate weaver's daughter will be able to bring to you?" she asked, turning to the young man.
"It is quite a large one, your Highness," he returned, with a sigh, as though he wished from the bottom of his heart that the thrifty weaver had been a gay spendthrift instead of having been a provident money-saver. And he mentioned a sum at which the Lady Marguerite smiled behind her hand, it seemed so small to her.
"Le Glorieux," said she, "go into my bedchamber and ask one of my women to give you the brass-bound box which will be found in the top of the chest."
The jester skipped gayly away to do her bidding and soon returned with the box clasped affectionately in his arms, and kneeling, he laid it on her lap. She took a purse from the box, and emptying the glittering coins in the chair beside her, she counted the pieces as she restored them one by one to the purse, which she handed to Cimburga, saying:
"Here is a greater dowry than the weaver's daughter will bring to her husband. I owe you something because one of my own suite has brought you so much trouble. I hope your marriage will be a happy one. Some day I too must marry, and a princess may not make her own choice. Say a prayer for me, Cimburga, that my betrothal may bring me the happiness that yours has brought toyou. Petition the Holy Virgin for Marguerite of Hapsburg."
"Indeed and indeed I will, your gracious Highness," sobbed Cimburga, as she pressed the hem of Marguerite's robe to her lips. "The sun shall not set on a day of my life in which a prayer has not been said for you."
Le Glorieux rubbed his sleeve across his eyes, saying, "I do not like salt water in any shape. When I sail on it it makes me uncomfortable and ill, and it is equally disagreeable when it tries to drown a man's eyes."
On his way to bed Le Glorieux remembered that he had not seen Philibert during the whole evening, and passing the boy's room, he pushed open the door and looked in. The apartment was bathed in moonlight; its occupant lay on his couch wrapped in the unconsciousness of slumber. In contrast with the dark stuff of the cushion against which his cheek was pressed, his features were like those of a beautiful Greek god carved in cameo. As his visitor bent over him the boy woke with a start, exclaiming, "Oh, you frightened me, Le Glorieux! With those long points standing out on either side of your head you make a strange figure against the light, and I thought it was the Evil One with his long horns."
"If the Evil One makes a practice of calling upon people who have the cold and unfeeling nature of a carp, you will not escape a visit from him, I can tell you, my young friend," responded Le Glorieux sourly.
"What do you mean?" asked Philibert.
"What do I mean, indeed! Has it escaped your memory that your cousin Clotilde this very morningaccused a pretty maid of stealing a moonstone, a winking, blinking face, and which——"
"Of course it has not escaped my memory, and what then?"
"What then indeed! Perhaps that same fine memory of yours will recall the fact that the whole matter was left to Saint Monica to decide?"
"I also remember that fact."
"And still you were not with us when we visited the good saint. You did not take the trouble to join the spectators."
"No."
"When everybody about the place, from my own princess down to the lowest scullion, was anxious to know what the saint would decide, you went to bed and slept through it all like an old man of ninety. I should like very much to know what kind of blood fills the veins of the people of Savoy!"
"Very warm and generous blood, I can assure you, my good fool."
"Then the supply must have been running very low when you were created, my little gentleman, and it was necessary to weaken it with a good deal of water."
Philibert, who had risen to a sitting posture, laughed and once more cuddled among his cushions. "Listen," said he. "The great clock in the tower is clanging the hour of twelve. It is the time when witches come forth and play their tricks. Be careful as you pass along the corridorlest one of them should mistake you for her elder brother and snatch at your long horns."
"They will have more business with you than with me, fair youth. Has any one been to tell you what Saint Monica replied? Did you not at least arrange with one of the servants to bring you the news?"
"No."
"And you have not enough interest in the matter even to ask me what was the result!"
"What did the saint do?" asked the boy, clasping his hands under his head and regarding the indignant jester.
"I have as good a mind as I ever had to swallow a bite to eat to let you wait until morning to find out."
"Considering, as you say, that I have no curiosity about the matter, do you think that would greatly disturb me?" asked Philibert. "But come, my good fellow," he added good-naturedly, "do not be angry with me. Perhaps I am overfond of my bed, and this couch is soft with the down of many fowls. Tell me what reply was made by Saint Monica."
"She came to life!" replied Le Glorieux, in a tone of awe, as he recalled the remarkable scene he had witnessed. "It is a great pity that she stood so much in shadow that we could not see her more plainly, but from the moment I beheld her I could see a palpitation as of life beneath her raiment."
"Could you see her face distinctly?"
"No, you know it is shaded by her coif. And all say that even before they saw her move they are quite certain that her head was not in quite the same pose as usual, so she must have moved even before we saw her."
"Are you very sure that you saw her move?" asked the boy.
"Am I sure! Am I sure that I am talking to you at this moment? We all saw her move; she bowed her head and raised her hand, and the cause of the girl has been vindicated. She is going to marry the miller's son, and my little princess has just given her gold enough to make a dowry beyond her wildest dreams."
"Did the Lady Marguerite do so?" cried the boy, showing interest and enthusiasm for the first time. "It is like her! She is just and generous, she is an angel."
"No, I could not call her an angel exactly," replied the jester, "for I have seen her eyes flash with anger more than once, though always in a good cause. Our little lady is not without her bit of temper."
"Le Glorieux," asked Philibert earnestly, "have you ever seen an opal?"
"Yes, the old Duchess of Burgundy wore one on her thumb. It is a stone with a red light that rolls about over a green surface."
"Well, it would not be so pretty without the redflame, and the princess would not be so perfect without her temper."
"A temper," said the jester, "is a good thing when it is only allowed to come out once in a great while, and that only in a good cause, but as a rule it should be kept under lock and key lest it should work destruction. But I must say good night, else the first streaks of dawn will find me on the outside of my bed, which to a man with my talent for sleeping would be a calamity."
If any one had thought to compare the Lady Clotilde to an opal that night, he would have said that the red flame had absorbed the whole of the stone. She was in a most captious state of mind, boxing the ears of her tiring-woman and scolding everybody within reach. The maid's innocence had been proven, but what good did this do the Lady Clotilde? The pendant was still missing. The whole household was rejoicing, just as if her jewel had been restored at the same time, when its loss was as great a mystery as ever!
"I could not sleep a wink without my devotional reading""I could not sleep a wink without my devotional reading"
"Fetch my book to me," she said when her woman had finished her other duties. "You were about to forget it when you know quite well that I could not sleep a wink without my devotional reading."
The maid placed on a little table beside her mistress a little Florentine lamp of silver that her lady always took with her when traveling. Beside it she placed a book bound in blue silk, with claspsand corners of silver. This volume was a treasure, for on the inside its letters were crimson, outlined with pure gold, and it told of the lives of the saints. But the Lady Clotilde's devotional reading was usually a pretense. It was well to make others believe that she was too pious to sleep until she had refreshed her mind with facts in the life of a saint, but as a rule she went to sleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, and though to-night she was too restless to be overcome by slumber, the handsome book remained tightly clasped, with its gorgeous lettering, done by the patient hand of a monk, still shut from view.
The next day it seemed to Le Glorieux that there was a whistling sound of whispering all over the castle; maids and pages, with their heads close together in the corridors, would fly apart at his approach and assume an air of great unconcern, while a group of ladies in the corners talking all at once, as of something of vital interest, would close their lips tightly when they saw him coming, and one of the gentlemen actually said "Hush!" to the others when Le Glorieux suddenly appeared among them.
"Do you know why everybody is whispering and making themselves look like owls, little Cousin?" he asked the princess.
"They do not whisper when I am present; I know nothing about it," she returned. "I only know that in spite of the good cheer offered by ourkind host, I am praying that the time may fly on swiftest wings so that I may soon see my father."
"Well, there is either a conspiracy on foot against me or else they are planning a pleasant surprise for me."
"Your imagination is playing you a trick, my good fool. Why should they be planning anything that concerns you?"
Cunegunda entered the room and, like almost every one else Le Glorieux had noticed that day, she wore a beaming smile.
"I have been so accustomed to see you down in the dumps that your present broad grin makes you seem like a stranger to me, Cunegunda," said he. "What is it that you know that makes you look like a beaming saint?"
"What it is that I know, do you ask, Sir Fool? What should I know save that the sky is blue and the air is crisp and clear?"
"The weather is a very good thing to be talked about by boobies who can think of no other subject of conversation," he retorted, "but it has never seemed to me to have a comical side, and there is nothing in it to bring out that broad smile."
"I am not smiling," said she; "my countenance is simply relaxed."
"Then do not relax it any further, or who can tell what the consequences may be?"
Still devoured with curiosity regarding the secret, which he was confident was also being keptfrom the princess, the fool wandered to the dining-hall, where a lively conversation was going on between the seneschal and the housekeeper. These functionaries were elderly people and both were very fat. They had been serving the count and countess from their youth, and during all those years seemed to have been running a race to see which would grow the stouter. The seneschal considered himself the most important person in the castle; the housekeeper was sure that the family would become extinct should she conclude to leave its service. Probably most of us feel the same about our own surroundings, but the chances are that the world will wag along just the same when we shall have ceased to grace it with our presence.
Having nothing more entertaining on hand at the moment, the jester paused and stood unseen in the shadow of the great chimney to hear what they were saying.
"Oh, me!" said the housekeeper, "I have so much to do with superintending those lazy maids and watching everything that goes on in the kitchen that it is a wonder that I have a bone in my body."
"Nobody knows whether you have a bone; there are no signs of any," replied the seneschal, taking up a silver jug and beginning to polish it with a great show of vigor.
"What are you doing?" asked the housekeeper sharply.
"I am polishing this jug; did you think I was playing the lute?"
"No doubt you consider that extremely funny," she retorted contemptuously, "but let me tell you that for a man of your age to try to be witty is like the frog trying to sing the notes of the nightingale. Oh, me, I have so much to do that I actually do not know where to begin! I wish that somebody would take as much interest in the management of this place as I do. I do not know what my Lady would do if I should drop out."
"You certainly would be missed," replied the seneschal.
She was greatly surprised at this reply from one who never would admit that she was of any value to her employers. "I am glad that you can see that I should be missed," said she, "and that at last you are coming to your senses."
"It does not require any great amount of wisdom to make such a remark," he returned, surveying the jug with one eye closed, "since it would be very singular if a person of your size would drop out of any place and not be missed."
"There you go again, Mr. Frog! Perhaps the old emperor wants a jester to cheer him up. Do you not think it would be a good plan to apply for the position?"
"I do not know that I should care to do so, but at the same time I think he might do worse than to employ me."
"Of all things in this world this is the most wonderful! Is there no limit to your self-satisfaction?"
"If we are not satisfied with ourselves who will be satisfied with us?" he asked. "I am sure that I could make myself fully as useful to his Imperial Majesty as to my present master and mistress."
"And that is not saying a great deal," replied the housekeeper, with a sniff.
"What do you mean? How could the place get on without me? Where is the man in my position who does so much outside of his proper duties? When they are starting to the hunt, who always watches them depart? I do. Who always places the hawk on my lady's wrist? I do. Who else could do it to her satisfaction? No one. I taste everything that comes to the table, for no one else has so delicate a sense of taste or can so quickly detect the absence of the right flavor. And then I keep my eye on all the maids and pages to see that they do not idle away their time."
The housekeeper tossed her head scornfully. "As to placing the hawk on my lady's wrist, I can see no great amount of labor in that. As to 'tasting' the food as you do, which consists of dipping an amount from each dish, seasoning it well and eating it, I am sure there are plenty who would be glad to take your place and consider it no hardship. I notice too that you taste the wine which has been in the cellar for a hundred years, and which ourmaster already knows all about. Do you consider that necessary?"
"Did you never hear, my good woman, of a poisonous drug being dropped into a bottle by a scoundrel of a servant?"
"No servant of this house ever has tried to poison his master."
"That is true, but who knows when such a thing might happen? It is always well to be prepared for the worst."
"Since you open the bottles yourself, none else has a chance to put in the poison," she replied, determined to argue the question into shreds.
"Even supposing that no one had an opportunity with the bottles," said the seneschal, "did you never hear of such a thing as chemical action?"
"No, and I want to know nothing of such Satan's work."
"Whether you know it or not, changes take place in liquids sometimes that make them most dangerous, and who can tell what has been going on in a pipe of wine that has had nothing to do for the last century but to get into mischief?"
"It is very thoughtful of you to be so willing to sacrifice yourself," said the housekeeper, with all the sarcasm in her voice that she could manage and be understood at the same time; "but do leave that jug alone! It is my business to see to such things."
"I do not deny that statement, but until I took it up, this jug was as dull as the sun behind a fog.Look at it now! A lady could see to rouge her face by it."
"There is no difference in it to what it was before you touched it. But I must go and look after the cook, for the supper to-night must be the triumph of our lives. I hope that we shall not have to wait for our guest, or the dishes may be spoiled."
"He will not mind; he was as gay and easy to please as a burgher when he visited here before," said the seneschal; adding, "I wonder if they have succeeded in keeping the secret from the Lady Marguerite?"
"Oh, yes; all understand that she is not to know."
"I am surprised," said the seneschal, "that a secret so important can be kept by a lot of cackling women."
"Dame Cunegunda says her Highness, the princess, is all impatience to be away," said the housekeeper, who scorned to make any reply to this last taunt. "She will be almost out of her mind with delight whenhecomes."