Never had preparations so grand been madeNever had preparations so grand been made
Never had preparations so grand been made for royal nuptials as were arranged for the wedding of the Prince of the Asturias with the Lady Marguerite of Hapsburg. There were present grandeesrepresenting the chivalry of Spain, men who had distinguished themselves on the battlefield and in the tournament; there were ambassadors from the courts of all the civilized world; there were dignitaries from all the cities of Spain, there were great ladies in glittering apparel, and the king and queen in their mantles of state; but most interesting of all was the young prince, whom his people already loved, and his fair young bride.
Dressed in his gayest suit, Le Glorieux stood where he could obtain the best view of his young mistress. At the most interesting moment, just as the ceremony was about to begin, there was a buzz of excitement around him, and Don Geronimo whispered in his ear, "Will you stand aside? I am looking for the pomander-box of Doña Clotilde, which has dropped to the floor." But the fool folded his arms and pretended not to hear.
And then followed days of fêtes and tourneys and tilts. The Spanish people enjoyed these amusements in a dignified and even a serious manner, and when the princess and her suite laughed and clapped their hands at some particularly clever feat, the courtiers of Ferdinand and Isabella were shocked at such levity.
When the public rejoicings were over the prince and princess went to their palace at Salamanca, a city of beautiful creamy stone, built on three hills and in a horse-shoe shape, which, with its stately college of seventeen thousand students, gave manyfêtes and outdid itself in bull-fights to celebrate the coming of the youthful pair.
It is said that one of the first acts of Prince Juan was to engage professors and performers of music, both instrumental and vocal, who, with fiddles, organs, cymbals, hautboys, and other instruments, played the lively airs of Spain. He also had a large military band, and one afternoon when Le Glorieux was lounging in the window listening to its music, the princess entered the room. She wore a splendid gown with a very long train, and she looked quite tall and stately. It was the first time the jester had seen her alone since their arrival in this country, and he sprang to his feet, exclaiming, "Little Cousin——" just as he had addressed her since the beginning of their acquaintance. But the Princess of the Asturias held her head higher and eyed him coldly, without making a reply.
Very much chagrined at this treatment, for she ever had been most gracious in her manner toward him, the fool turned and was about to leave the room without another word, when he was startled by a merry laugh.
"Did I do it well?" she asked gayly.
"You did it too well! I was already homesick, and if you had turned to ice like the people of this country, I should have been broken-hearted. Never was there a place so stiff and cold as this Spanish court. The king is shorter than the queenand is not very big to look at when you come to stature, but I would no more think of jesting with him, as I always did with Max, than I would think of sitting down to have a little fun with my grandmother's tomb. And I am not a man who is easily chilled, either!"
"I am told," said the princess, "that I am too careless and gay, and that I must be like the ladies of Spain. And although I am allowed to retain my own people about me, they must all conduct themselves in a grave and ceremonious manner."
"Thank fortune that I am a fool," said Le Glorieux, "for who ever heard of a jester who was grave and ceremonious? But I shall be sad and mournful, my Princess, if you freeze up as you did just now, and continue to stay frozen."
"I must try to please my husband's people," replied Marguerite seriously. "If I am one day to be Queen of Spain I must learn to be like a Spanish woman. And I hope that my own people will not offend by showing too much levity and frivolity."
"One of your suite has become a thorough Spaniard," said Le Glorieux, "and that is Brutus. He follows the prince everywhere."
"Yes," replied Marguerite, "the prince loves him and Brutus is fond of his new master. In this he shows good judgment, for the prince is very, very good."
The princess sighed as she spoke and gazeddreamily out of the window. "I wonder if she, too, is homesick," thought the jester. "Well, as for me, I have seen the bull-fights, the flowers, and oranges of Spain, and I wish I could take my little princess and go home to Max."
From the window they could see Prince Juan walking in the garden, and by his side stepped Brutus, the master occasionally pausing to pat the dog's head or to stroke his silky ears. "He is a good man," remarked the jester, "or Brutus would not be so fond of him."
The Prince took a seat on a marble benchThe Prince took a seat on a marble bench
Now the prince took a seat on a marble bench beside the fountain and turned his pale face, with its thoughtful brow, toward the sinking sun, still absently drawing the hound's ears through his thin white fingers. "I said something to him this morning that used to make the emperor laugh, but the prince only smiled in that far-off way, as if his mind were traveling through the moon," said Le Glorieux. "He is younger than Philibert, and Philibert is always ready to laugh. And how cheerful and gay Max always was, though sometimes——"
"Do not, oh, do not!" cried the princess. "Let us not talk of my father, or any of the people at home! I am going to weep; I shall be as tearful as poor Cunegunda," she went on, half-laughing, as she brushed the tears from her eyes. "What would her Majesty, Queen Isabella, say were she to see me weeping with my jester—she who alwaysis so careful never to betray her emotions, and who, even when she is ill, never utters a moan? The prince will come soon and we are to give an audience to some persons of distinction, and it will not do for me to be seen with swollen eyes."
"There, there," said the jester, taking her handkerchief and wiping her eyes as if she had been a little child. "Your lashes are long and thick, you see, and the tears hang to them and make them seem like more tears than they really are. They will spoil your pretty eyes. And you are not really sad, you know, for why should you be, when you will one day be queen of one of the great nations of the earth?"
"Somehow I do not care about that part of it, Le Glorieux, and I hope King Ferdinand and dear Queen Isabella will live to be very, very old. But I can be dignified when I like, can I not, Le Glorieux?"
"Most certainly you can, my little lady. That night when you were brought a prisoner before Anne of Brittany you were as dignified as a woman of forty."
"And as I grow older it will be easier for me to be silent and cold. I am only sixteen now."
"Of course it will be. The older people grow, the more silent and cold they are. That is to say, as a rule. Clotilde, now, is old and cold, but she is not always silent. There you are smiling, and your tears are all gone; do not get into the habitof weeping. As I understand it, you are expected neither to smile nor weep, but get into a humor half-way between the two and you will be just right."
"Le Glorieux," said the princess, "if you are not happy in Spain, there is no reason why you should stay here. I will send you home to my father, who will be glad to have you with him. You have plenty of friends there and you will be contented."
"And you would be willing to have me go, you could spare me, little Cousin?" asked the fool sadly.
"I am not thinking of myself. I should miss you sorely. But I want you to live where you will be happiest."
"Then that will be where you are, little Princess. No matter if Ferdinand commands me to be as sour and grave as one of the dried-up professors in the university, here do I remain."
Prince Juan entered. He bent gracefully and pressed Marguerite's fingers to his lips, then he offered his arm, and thus they left the room.
The jester wandered to the garden, where he remained for a long time on the seat vacated by the prince. He plucked a branch of pomegranate blossoms and fastened it to the front of his yellow coat. "Bright colors help to make one cheerful," murmured he, and rising, he went down to the river, and leaning over the old stone bridge, helooked into the dingy waters. "They tell me that the waters of the Tormes River will make one forget all he knows if he drinks of them," thought the fool. "They have a saying here if any one forgets anything, 'He has been drinking of the waters of the Tormes.'" Twilight had closed in around him when he became conscious of some one standing beside him. It was a tall man in a long black cloak, and wearing a tall pointed black hat. He was very thin and his small eyes were like black beads.
"You were gazing into the waters of the Tormes, Señor," said the stranger, in a melancholy voice.
"If you are telling me that as a piece of news you must not mind if I am not surprised at it," replied the fool.
"Do you know the effect produced upon those who drink of this water, Señor?" asked the stranger, ignoring the flippancy of the jester's reply.
"Judging from the color of the water, I should say the effect would be gritty," replied Le Glorieux.
"They are the waters of oblivion," went on the tall man; "those who drink of them forget all they know."
"That would not be a great effort for some people," said Le Glorieux.
"One cup of this water and the past is completely forgotten," repeated the stranger.
"Some people might be glad to forget their past," remarked the fool.
"But all wisdom is forgotten, too," the tall man urged in reply.
"Have you tried it?"
Without noticing the rather uncomplimentary character of this question, the stranger clutched the lower corner of his long mantle in his hand and folding his arms looked down into the river for a few minutes before he replied, "No, I have not tasted of these waters, for I need all of my wisdom. I am the most learned doctor of all the learned ones in the University of Salamanca."
"Retiring and modest of you to say so," replied the jester.
"The whole world has heard of Don Velerio de Farrapos," said that gentleman.
"Then I do not live in the world, for this is the first time I have heard that name."
"Do not lie to me," said the other, frowning, "youhaveheard it."
"Very well, if you insist upon it," said Le Glorieux. "In order to be easy and comfortable together, we will say that my father had a black cat of that name. But do not ask me to remember it, if you please. I already have the name of one Spaniard fixed in my mind, and I am not going to have it crowded out by yours. But what have you done that makes you talked about by all the world?"
"I have discovered the elixir of life""I have discovered the elixir of life"
"I have made a great discovery."
"What is it?"
"The elixir of life."
"You do not mean it?"
"The savants of the Orient," went on the Spaniard, "claimed that there are one hundred and one ways in which a man may lose his life. He may die by poison, by drowning, bad living, a stroke of lightning, or in ninety-six other ways. But if he dies before he is one hundred years old, it is the result of accident, or of his own ignorance or wilfulness. So you see it is not so very easy to die, when all is said and done."
"But you can not convince people of that; they will keep on dying," said the fool.
"But they need not, now that I have discovered the elixir of life," replied Don Velerio, in a deep voice.
Le Glorieux now surveyed him with a feeling of awe. Men were searching at this very time for the elixir of life, and why should it not have been discovered by this learned doctor of Salamanca?
"It is only necessary to take it once in fifty years," observed Don Velerio carelessly.
"That seems a long while between doses," responded the fool. "But while you are about it, I should think you would add something to the medicine to put flesh on your bones," he continued, looking at Don Velerio's thin legs, which, clad in black hose, looked like slender iron rods.
"Flesh," said the learned man, "is nothing."
"It certainly is not much in your case," returned the jester.
"But life, life is everything," went on Don Velerio, waving the hand which still clutched the corner of the mantle, a gesture which gave him the appearance of a large bat. "I expect to live to the age of five thousand five hundred and fifty-seven years," said he.
"I am afraid you are just a trifle ambitious," said the jester.
"The composition of my elixir is a great secret," said the Spaniard. "It is made from serpents' broth," and he raised his voice exultantly.
"It must be a great secret since you bawl it out like that." Le Glorieux had now lost all faith in the wisdom of this "learned doctor."
"He doubts me! He dares to doubt me!" cried Don Velerio, in a shrill voice, and before he had time to realize what was happening, the jester was pushed over the low balustrade of the bridge and into the dark waters below, where he fell with a loud splash.
This piece of treachery on the part of Don Velerio would not have been a very serious matter, for the jester was a good swimmer, had not the victim of it struck an abutment of the bridge as he went down, which stunned him and prevented him from making any effort to save himself. He would have drowned had not two men in a rowboat notfar away succeeded in dragging the unconscious fool into their boat.
When he returned to his senses he was in his own room, and a nun, with a kind and gentle face, was sitting beside him.
"Why do you come here to watch me sleep?" he asked, and was surprised to find that his voice was so weak.
"You must be quiet; you have been very ill," said she.
"I ill? Now that is a queer thing, a very queer thing! What made me ill?"
"Do not trouble your head about it. It is best for you to remain perfectly silent."
"I will not be quiet until you have answered my questions. If anybody ought to be interested in this affair, it seems to me I ought to be the one."
The nun reflected a moment, then she said thoughtfully, "Perhaps it might be better to tell you, after all. You fell off of the bridge into the river. You were saved by two boatmen, but you seemed to be in a stupor."
"I remember all about it now," cried the jester. "It was that old black spider of a doctor who pushed me in. Let me up and I will break every bone in his body!"
The sister put her hand to his breast and pushed him back to his pillow again, and he was astonished to find how easily this delicate woman could managehim. "You must not grow excited," she said gently.
"He came there and talked to me about his old elixir of life," said Le Glorieux. "Did it of his own accord; I never invited him; then he said I doubted him, which I did, and he pushed me over."
"Don Velerio is very sensitive about his discovery," said the nun, "but he did not intend really to harm you."
"He did a queer thing for a man who did not intend anything by it."
"Don Velerio is flighty at times, and he was sorry for what he had done. He has sent you a vial of his elixir of life."
"Send it straight back to him and tell him, with my compliments, to take it himself and see if it will make him——"
The door opened before he had finished the sentence, and the princess entered, followed by a page who bore a torch to light the way along the corridors. She was dressed as if for a grand fête. A coronet rested on her hair, gems flashed about her throat, her arms, and her slender waist. In all her gorgeous array she knelt on the floor and took in both her own the hand of the jester.
"Little Cousin," said he.
"Oh, he is conscious!" she cried. "I am so rejoiced to know it! Now you are going to recover right away, are you not, my poor Le Glorieux?"
"The sight of you, as you look now, ought to make even the broken statue of a man pull himself together," he replied, smiling faintly.
"Oh, it is so good to hear you talk," she exclaimed, laughing, though her eyes were full of tears.
"I did not know that it was so strange a thing to hear me talk," said he.
"Why, you have not said one word for more than two weeks!" she said impulsively. "But perhaps I ought not to have told you."
"I did not think it best to tell the patient too much, your Highness," said the nun almost reproachfully. "He seemed so anxious to talk that I allowed him to ask some questions, but I was just about to bid him be quiet when your gracious Highness entered the room."
"I am always blundering, even with you, Le Glorieux," said the princess, rising, "but now I will go. Try to sleep, try to get well as soon as possible. And now good-by for the present." She smiled down upon him, took her long train over her arm, and motioning to the page to open the door, went from the room.
"She is a great princess; she is the future Queen of Spain, yet she does not forget the poor jester," murmured the sick man, while to himself his words sounded as if they had been uttered by some one else and he seemed to sail away into a silent sea.
When he once more became conscious the bright sun was streaming in at the open window, and standing beside his bed and looking down at him with coldly blinking eyes, was the Lady Clotilde.
"I thought I had died and gone to Heaven," said the jester weakly, "but this is only purgatory."
"I do not know that you ought to talk," said the Lady Clotilde. "I wish you had not returned to consciousness while Sister Barbara is out. I never know what to do with sick people."
"I have been talking all my life, and it has not killed me yet," said the jester.
"I came on behalf of her Highness, the Princess of the Asturias," said the Lady Clotilde. "Not being able to come in person, she sent me to see that you were well cared for and had everything that you needed."
"She was here last night," said he; "she said she was so glad to hear me talk again."
"Oh, that was some time ago. She has been here since, but you did not recognize her. You have been raving with fever for six weeks."
"Fever?" he asked, considerably puzzled. "Why, I thought I was pushed over a bridge."
"And so you were, but it terminated in a fever. The leeches do not know whether the accident brought on the fever, or whether the malady was already in your system. They have had several consultations about it."
"I do not see the sense of consulting about athing like that. What difference does it make what gave me the fever, since it is very evident that I have it? How long have I been here altogether?"
"Just eight weeks ago this night, for I remember I ordered a gown from the best tailor of Salamanca, and he promised it in a week, and it has not come yet, and it was the night of your accident, for I heard about it just as the tailor was leaving the palace, where he had come to take my order. Eight weeks, think of it, and that gown no nearer finished, I will warrant, than it was the day it was fitted! These Spanish tradesmen are the slowest people in this world." And the Lady Clotilde became very much excited about her wrongs.
"Well, I think that your situation was better than mine during those eight weeks," said the jester, "but I dare say I was in no higher fever than you were throughout that time. I do not suppose I have missed anything by being ill, except, perhaps, several dozen bull-fights. I would I were back in Vienna again," he continued, with a sigh.
"Vienna? I would not return there for the world," said the lady. "The climate of Spain is simply glorious."
"I am not especially fond of climate by itself," said the fool.
"I really do think you ought not to talk," said the Lady Clotilde. "I do wish you had not returned to consciousness while Sister Barbara is out."
"You said that before," said the fool fretfully. "Why would it not be just as easy to wish that Sister Barbara had been in when I did return to consciousness?"
"I see that you are inclined to be captious," returned the Lady Clotilde calmly. "They say Prince Juan is like an angel."
"What has that to do with me?" asked Le Glorieux wearily. "He is not a near relative of mine."
"I forgot that you were ignorant of the fact that his Highness is very, very ill."
"Ill? His Highness ill?"
"Yes, he also has the fever, the same that you have, but the leeches are confident that they can cure him."
The fever had now spent itself, and Le Glorieux, being naturally of a strong constitution, made rapid progress toward recovery. Marguerite came no more, for every moment was spent beside the couch of the prince, who was making a brave fight for his life.
But one morning the bells began to toll, and it seemed as if a pall had settled over the land, for the Prince of the Asturias, the hope of Spain, was no more! The heir to the throne of a great kingdom had bowed his young head meekly to the divine will, and gladly had exchanged the splendors of earth for the joys of Heaven. History says, "All the nations mourned, and the court, instead of being hung with white serge, was draped in sackcloth....Brutus, a beautiful hound belonging to the prince, could not be induced to leave his body, but went to his tomb and died there."
It was a pale and sorrowful queen whom Le Glorieux beheld when next he went to court. The fairy-like columns and sparkling fountains of her palaces were no longer a delight to Queen Isabella; for her the roses in the Alhambra gardens had lost their fragrance, and she thought with indifference of her new possessions across the sea, for she had lost the dearest treasure of all, and the great queen had become the sorrowing mother.
Ferdinand and Isabella were very kind to the young Princess of the Asturias, and insisted that she should remain with them. Some writers see a selfish motive in this invitation, saying that the royal couple feared to have Austria's daughter escape from their influence, that they wished to control her future, lest she should make a marriage directly opposed to the interests of Spain. But why not give them the credit of being really kind-hearted, and of wanting the society of the girl-widow, whom they must have loved for their son's sake if not for her own?
But Marguerite longed for her home and for her father, and one day Le Glorieux found her weeping in one of the myrtle walks of the Alcazar gardens. "You are crying in this beautiful twilight," said he, "when the nightingales are just beginning to sing, and you are close beside roses which could not be any redder and which have a fragrance that almost makes one drunk. Look at the goldfishes in that fountain, look at that tree loaded down with oranges, which, though they are of a kind that is not good to eat, make a fine show. Look through the trees at that beautifulpalace where you have but to utter a word and your wish is granted, and then have the heart to weep!"
But the princess continued to sob.
"We did not have half so many comforts in your father's empire," he went on. "The time we went to hunt the chamois with Max we found no luxuries in The Hunter's Rest. We were warm and comfortable and that was about all; all you could do was to run about with your ladies and work at your embroidery while the men hunted. Do you remember how gay Max was when he came back, and how he told about the chamois, and——"
"Oh, do not talk of it!" cried the princess, interrupting him. "Why must you make me more wretched than I was before you came?"
Cunegunda came along the walk with a mantilla of fine black lace over her arm; this she threw, Spanish fashion, over the head and shoulders of her young mistress. "You have been making her cry!" she said reproachfully, to the jester.
"That is a fine thing to say, when I have been talking myself hoarse to keep her from crying! But, of course, you always blame me with everything."
"You were making her cry; I heard you, and I heard what she said," insisted the woman. "You were talking about the inn in the Tyrol."
"I do not deny it. I did it for the purpose of contrast. Think of that mean little inn and thecold snow, then think of this marble palace and these flowers."
"If one is right on the inside, it does not much matter what is on the outside," replied the woman. "When the heart is comfortable everything is bright to the eyes."
"You do not weep as much as you used to do, Cunegunda," said the jester, looking at her thoughtfully. "Even the sight of me does not make you cry any more."
"I control my tears for the sake of my young mistress, who weeps so much," returned Cunegunda with dignity.
"You have some good points, I must say," replied the fool.
The princess had now dried her eyes, and had drawn the folds of the mantilla closer about her face. "I want to go home," said she. "All of my ladies and gentlemen want to go home. They hate the restraint of the Spanish court; and I want to see my father."
"This is the first time I have mentioned it," said the fool, "but I also want to go home. I want to see Max and I want to see that little wretch of an Antoine, and Pittacus, and Pandora."
"And we will go," cried Marguerite, rising to her feet with a new light sparkling in her eyes. "I will write to the emperor, my father, at once, and we will set out at the earliest possible moment."
And again did the daughter of Maximilian returnto him, still only a princess, for it was destined that she should never wear the crown of a queen. But when she beheld her native land, and the handsome, kindly face of her father once more, she was as happy as one whose most ambitious dreams had been realized.
Le Glorieux said, "At last we really have left Clotilde behind, and as Don Geronimo Bartolomeo Zurriago y Escafusa says he never will go out of his native land again, we may safely conclude that Clotilde is a fixture in Spain." The jester was affectionately embraced by Antoine, who declared himself overjoyed to see his old friend again, but their master was disgusted to find that Pandora and Pittacus received him with their usual cold indifference.
One day, in the following spring time, Marguerite said to Le Glorieux:
"Cunegunda is once more suffering from migraine, and thinks that nothing will cure her but another pilgrimage to the shrine of Saint Roch. She thinks that when she was there before she did not give enough time to her prayer, being in too great haste to leave; otherwise she would have been cured permanently. I am often depressed and weary, and I think the journey will benefit me. So I shall go with such of my household as I shall need."
"It is a long journey to make for Cunegunda's sake," observed the jester.
"Cunegunda has been one of my best friends throughout my life," replied the princess, "so why should I not strive to please her? But as I said before, it is not altogether upon her account that I want to go. I wish to be taken out of myself. The world is not so happy a place as it used to be."
"Little Cousin, I do not often ask a favor of you, do I?" asked the fool.
"No, Le Glorieux, a fact which would make me the more inclined to grant you one now."
"I want you to let me have a man and a horse," he replied.
"For what purpose?"
"I wish to send a message to the young Duke of Savoy. He lost a valuable jewel when he was with us, and I want to tell him where he can find it."
"Perhaps it is between the leaves of his prayer-book," said the princess, smiling. "But if you have an idea where this wonderful jewel is, why can you not find it and send it to him?"
"There are certain reasons why such an act on my part would be out of the question," returned the jester. "But if you do not want to let me have the man and the horse, we will say nothing more about it."
"I do not object in the least, Le Glorieux. Send as many messengers as you like to Savoy."
They set out from the historic city of Aix-la-Chapelle, where the court was staying at the time, and even at the end of the first day's travel theprincess expressed herself as being wonderfully benefited with the journey.
They approached a hostelryThey approached a hostelry
Late on the following afternoon as they approached a hostelry where they expected to stay the night, they noticed a queer-looking animal painted on the sign-board and before they were sufficiently near to read the name beneath it, they began to speculate as to what it could be.
"I should say it was a horse," said the princess.
"And I," said the jester, who rode at her side, "should call it a calf in convulsions."
Coming nearer they read the sign, which was "The Flying Fawn." So many things had happened since she had heard the name that the princess had forgotten it, but as they drew up and the pretty landlady came to the door, Le Glorieux exclaimed, "Cimburga!"
Yes, it was Frau Obermeister, as Cimburga was now called, and she was followed by her tall husband, both almost doubting the evidence of their senses when they beheld the princess. Even before the latter alighted from her mule Cimburga ran out and was about to press the hem of Marguerite's robe to her lips when the princess reached out her hand, which the landlady kissed, saying, "Oh, gracious lady, I never have forgotten your face, which is now more beautiful than ever. And never have I ceased to offer the prayer I told you of, and my little daughter, although she can scarcely lisp the words, offers petitions to the Blessed Virgin foryour health and happiness, for she has learned that it is to your goodness that we owe all that we now have."
"Happiness is a strange thing," remarked Le Glorieux afterward to Cimburga. "You and Karl living in this snug inn, with your two chubby children, have plenty of it, while the Lady Marguerite, even when she wedded the Prince of the Asturias, had not found it."
"It will yet come to her; she is still very young, and my prayers will be answered," replied Cimburga simply.
Castle Hohenberg was a good many miles north of The Flying Fawn, but Cimburga had heard one piece of news from that hospitable household which, when she told it to him, surprised the fool greatly. The seneschal had married the housekeeper shortly after the visit of the emperor.
"I can not believe it!" cried Le Glorieux. "Why, those two were always quarreling!"
"And so they were," she agreed, "but now, I am told, they never speak an unpleasant word to each other."
Speaking of this marriage to his mistress, when they had resumed their journey, the jester said, "For a couple who were ready to scratch each other's eyes out before marriage, to be perfectly angelic afterward, is nothing less than a miracle."
She replied, "Hohenberg is the place for miracles. Think of Saint Monica."
"Which was not a miracle, after all," replied the fool; and then he told her the truth regarding that night's strange occurrence, as it had been related to him by Philibert, adding, "He did it because you had prayed for her, little Cousin."
It was, as the jester had said, a long journey, but at length they reached the end of it, and Cunegunda made frequent visits to the shrine of Saint Roch, declaring even after the first one that the pain was much less severe than it had been.
Everything about the old inn was much as it had been at their first visit, though the little Mary had become a great chatterbox, and this time was able to thank the princess for the present of a gold piece.
Anne, the queen-duchess, was staying for a time in one of her castles in the province of Brittany, it being her custom to visit her domain as often as she could make it convenient to do so. Hearing of the presence at the inn of the Princess of the Asturias, she sent to her an invitation, offering the hospitality of her roof for the Easter season. Although the King of France and the Emperor of Austria had been enemies, the princess and the queen had not shared the ill feeling, and history, which as a rule makes out people to have been worse than they really were, admits that the two ladies ever were friendly to each other and that they sometimes exchanged presents.
The King of France was away with his soldiers,and as the royal little ones had remained in the palace of Amboise, it was not difficult to imagine that time had remained stationary and that the fair châtelaine of the castle was still simply the Lady Anne, Duchess of Brittany.
Fêtes and entertainments were arranged in honor of the guest, and happy were the hours that Anne and Marguerite spent together.
On Easter Monday the people for miles around met in the valley to engage in the customary games of the season. The married men entertained themselves with archery, the prize for the best shot being considered worth winning. The archers shot at a cask of wine, and he who was so fortunate as to pierce the wood was permitted to put his lips to the aperture thus made, and to drink of the amber liquid until he was satisfied, the others taking their turn when he had finished. But the young people craved something more exciting than the mere drinking of wine, and their gay laughter rang out joyously and vigorously as they went through their native dances.
The princess from her place beside her royal hostess enjoyed the scene thoroughly. Finally began the most exciting dance of the day. A hundred eggs were scattered over the ground and two youths chose their partners and began the figure. Although on the surface a trivial matter and one to provoke laughter, this dance was a very serious affair to those who engaged in it; for the couplewho could skip over the eggs, glide between them, twirl about them in the many turns required by the dance, without breaking or cracking an egg, might marry each other in spite of the opposition of parents or guardians. Each couple was allowed three trials, and the dance being successfully concluded, none had a right to say "Nay" to the union.
While the merrymaking was at its height the sound of a hunter's horn was heard ringing through the forest, and soon there appeared a company of men on horseback and in brilliant uniforms. At their head rode a beautiful youth attired in the rich costume affected by the nobles of the time, who, leaping from his horse, bent a graceful knee to the queen, requesting her hospitality. It was granted at once, for this was Philibert the Handsome, Duke of Savoy!
He bowed low before the princess and gave a friendly greeting to the others, but to Le Glorieux he murmured, "The jewel about which you wrote me I have come to claim."
The Princess placed her hand in hisThe Princess placed her hand in his
The dance, which had ceased when the hunters appeared upon the scene, was now resumed with greater merriment than before, and after watching them intently for a while Marguerite said wistfully, "Would that I might try that dance."
Then Philibert once more inclined his graceful figure and said, "Madame, will you permit me to be your partner?"
This was equivalent to an offer of marriage, andhis followers and her own became wildly enthusiastic. Cries were heard of "Austria and Savoy!" and it seemed to Le Glorieux that in his joy his own cry must have rung to the very skies, while cheer upon cheer rent the air.
The princess placed her hand in his and the comely pair took their places. There was a serious task before them. They must dance around and over and between those eggs without breaking any, and that, too, with many eyes intently watching them. The members of noble families were accustomed to dance; the little feet of the lady could poise as lightly as thistle-down, while the knight was graceful in every step. When the dance was ended not a single egg had been touched!
Exercise in the open air had deepened the tint on the cheek of the princess. Philibert bent his head and whispered something in her ear.
"Yes," said she, smiling brightly, "let us follow the custom of the country."
"Philibert has found his jewel," said Le Glorieux, "and I have helped him to get it."
"What jewel do you mean?" asked the princess.
"What should I mean, but yourself, fair lady? You are the jewel he always has admired. I am nothing but a fool, but I am not blind."
One year from that day the two were married. To their guests they gave as souvenirs gold and silver eggs filled with spices, which they called Easter eggs, and which the natives of Savoy claimwas the origin of the pleasant custom of giving eggs at that season.
And Philibert and Marguerite never had occasion to regret that happy day in the forest, when, forgetting everything save that their hearts were beating with the joy of youth, they together tripped the measures of the egg-dance.