CHAPTER X
THE APPEAL TO CAESAR
The room was full of sunshine that poured in through two tall windowsopposite, upon a motionless figure that sat in a high carved chair by thetable, and watched the door. This figure dominated the whole room: thelad as he dropped on his knees, was conscious of eyes watching him frombehind the chair, of tapestried walls, and a lute that lay on the table,but all those things were but trifling accessories to that scarletcentral figure with a burnished halo of auburn hair round a shadowedface.
* * * *
There was complete silence for a moment or two; a hound bayed in thecourt outside, and there came a far-away bang of a door somewhere in thepalace. There was a rustle of silk that set every nerve of his bodythrilling, and then a clear hard penetrating voice spoke two words.
"Well, sir?"
Anthony drew a breath, and swallowed in his throat.
"Your Grace," he said, and lifted his eyes for a moment, and dropped themagain. But in the glimpse every detail stamped itself clear on hisimagination. There she sat in vivid scarlet and cloth of gold, radiatinglight; with high puffed sleeves; an immense ruff fringed with lace. Thenarrow eyes were fixed on him, and as he now waited again, he knew thatthey were running up and down his figure, his dark splashed hose and histumbled doublet and ruff.
"You come strangely dressed."
Anthony drew a quick breath again.
"My heart is sick," he said.
There was another slight movement.
"Well, sir," the voice said again, "you have not told us why you arehere."
"For justice from my queen," he said, and stopped. "And for mercy from awoman," he added, scarcely knowing what he said.
Again Elizabeth stirred in her chair.
"You taught him that, you wicked girl," she said.
"No, madam," came Mary's voice from behind, subdued and entreating, "itis his heart that speaks."
"Enough, sir," said Elizabeth; "now tell us plainly what you want of us."
Then Anthony thought it time to be bold. He made a great effort, and thesense of constraint relaxed a little.
"I have been, your Grace, to Sir Francis Walsingham, and my lord Bishopof London, and I can get neither justice nor mercy from either; and so Icome to your Grace, who are their mistress, to teach them manners."
"Stay," said Elizabeth, "that is insolence to my ministers."
"So my lord said," answered Anthony frankly, looking into that hard clearface that was beginning to be lined with age. And he saw that Elizabethsmiled, and that the face behind the chair nodded at him encouragingly.
"Well, insolence, go on."
"It is on behalf of one who has been pronounced a felon and a traitor byyour Grace's laws, that I am pleading; but one who is a very gallantChristian gentleman as well."
"Your friend lacks not courage," interrupted Elizabeth to Mary.
"No, your Grace," said the other, "that has never been considered hisfailing."
Anthony waited, and then the voice spoke again harshly.
"Go on with the tale, sir. I cannot be here all day."
"He is a popish priest, your Majesty; and he was taken at mass in hisvestments, and is now in the Tower; and he hath been questioned on therack. And, madam, it is piteous to think of it. He is but a young manstill, but passing strong and tall."
"What has this to do with me, sir?" interrupted the Queen harshly. "Icannot pardon every proper young priest in the kingdom. What else isthere to be said for him?"
"He was taken through the foul treachery of a spy, who imposed upon me,his friend, and caused me all unknowing to say the very words thatbrought him into the net."
And then, more and more, Anthony began to lose his self-consciousness,and poured out the story from the beginning; telling how he had beenbrought up in the same village with James Maxwell; and what a loyalgentleman he was; and then the story of the trick by which he had beendeceived. As he spoke his whole appearance seemed to change; instead ofthe shy and rather clumsy manner with which he had begun, he was nownatural and free; he moved his hands in slight gestures; his blue eyeslooked the Queen fairly in the face; he moved a little forward on hisknees as he pleaded, and he spoke with a passion that astonished bothMary and himself afterwards when he thought of it, in spite of his shortand broken sentences. He was conscious all the while of an intenseexternal strain and pressure, as if he were pleading for his life, andthe time was short. Elizabeth relaxed her rigid attitude, and leaned herchin on her hand and her elbow on the table and watched him, her thinlips parted, the pearl rope and crown on her head, and the pearl pendantsin her ears moving slightly as she nodded at points in his story.
"Ah! your Grace," he cried, lifting his open hands towards her a little,"you have a woman's heart; all your people say so. You cannot allow thisman to be so trapped to his death! Treachery never helped a cause yet. Ifyour men cannot catch these priests fairly, then a-God's name, let themnot catch them at all! But to use a friend, and make a Judas of him; tomake the very lips that have spoken friendly, speak traitorously; to baitthe trap like that--it is devilish. Let him go, let him go, madam! Onepriest more or less cannot overthrow the realm; but one more foul crimedone in the name of justice can bring God's wrath down on the nation. Ihold that a trick like that is far worse than all the disobedience in theworld; nay--how can we cry out against the Jesuits and the plotters, ifwe do worse ourselves? Madam, madam, let him go! Oh! I know I cannotspeak as well in this good cause, as some can in a bad cause, but let thecause speak for itself. I cannot speak, I know."
"Nay, nay," said Elizabeth softly, "you wrong yourself. You have anhonest face, sir; and that is the best recommendation to me.
"And so, Minnie," she went on, turning to Mary, "this was your petition,was it; and this your advocate? Well, you have not chosen badly. Now, youspeak yourself."
Mary stood a moment silent, and then with a swift movement came round thearm of the Queen's chair, and threw herself on her knees, with her handsupon the Queen's left hand as it lay upon the carved boss, and her voicewas as Anthony had never yet heard it, vibrant and full of tears.
"Oh! madam, madam; this poor lad cannot speak, as he says; and yet hissad honest face, as your Grace said, is more eloquent than all words. Andthink of the silence of the little cell upstairs in the Tower; where agallant gentleman lies, all rent and torn with the rack; and,--and how helistens for the footsteps outside of the tormentors who come to drag himdown again, all aching and heavy with pain, down to that fierce engine inthe dark. And think of his gallant heart, your Grace, how brave it is;and how he will not yield nor let one name escape him. Ah! not because heloves not your Grace nor desires to serve you; but because he serves yourGrace best by serving and loving his God first of all.--And think how hecannot help a sob now and again; and whispers the name of his Saviour, asthe pulleys begin to wrench and twist.--And,--and,--do not forget hismother, your Grace, down in the country; how she sits and listens andprays for her dear son; and cannot sleep, and dreams of him when at lastshe sleeps, and wakes screaming and crying at the thought of the boy shebore and nursed in the hands of those harsh devils. And--and, you canstop it all, your Grace, with one little word; and make that mother'sheart bless your name and pray for you night and morning till shedies;--and let that gallant son go free, and save his racked body beforeit be torn asunder;--and you can make this honest lad's heart happy againwith the thought that he has saved his friend instead of slaying him.Look you, madam, he has come confessing his fault; saying bravely to yourGrace that he did try to do his friend a service in spite of the laws,for that he held love to be the highest law. Ah! how many happy souls youcan make with a word; because you are a Queen.--What is it to be aQueen!--to be able to do all that!--Oh! madam, be pitiful then, and showmercy as one day you hope to find it."
Mary spoke with an intense feeling; her voice was one long straining sobof appeal; and as she ended h
er tears were beginning to rain down on thehand she held between her own; she lifted it to her streaming face andkissed it again and again; and then dropped her forehead upon it, and sorested in dead silence.
Elizabeth swallowed in her throat once or twice; and then spoke, and hervoice was a little choked.
"Well, well, you silly girl.--You plead too well."
Anthony irresistibly threw his hands out as he knelt.
"Oh! God bless your Grace!" he said; and then gave a sob or two himself.
"There, there, you are a pair of children," she said; for Mary waskissing her hand again and again. "And you are a pretty pair, too," sheadded. "Now, now, that is enough, stand up."
Anthony rose to his feet again and stood there; and Mary went round againbehind the chair.
"Now, now, you have put me in a sore strait," said Elizabeth; "betweenyou I scarcely know how to keep my word. They call me fickle enoughalready. But Frank Walsingham shall do it for me. He is certainly at theback of it all, and he shall manage it. It shall be done at once. Call apage, Minnie."
Mary Corbet went to the back of the room into the shadow, opened a doorthat Anthony had not noticed, and beckoned sharply; in a moment or two apage was bowing before Elizabeth.
"Is Sir Francis Walsingham in the palace?" she asked,--"then bring himhere," she ended, as the boy bowed again.
"And you too," she went on, "shall hear that I keep my word,"--shepointed towards the door whence the page had come.--"Stand there," shesaid, "and leave the door ajar."
Mary gave Anthony her hand and a radiant smile as they went together.
"Aha!" said Elizabeth, "not in my presence."
Anthony flushed with fury in spite of his joy.
* * * *
They went in through the door, and found themselves in a tiny panelledroom with a little slit of a window; it was used to place a sentry or apage within it. There were a couple of chairs, and the two sat down towait.
"Oh, thank God!" whispered Anthony.
Again the harsh voice rang out from the open door.
"Now, now, no love-making within there!"
Mary smiled and laid her finger on her lips. Then there came the rippleof a lute from the outer room, played not unskilfully. Mary smiled againand nodded at Anthony. Then, a metallic voice, but clear enough andtuneful, began to sing a verse of the little love-song of Harrington's,_Whence comes my love?_
It suddenly ceased in the middle of the line, and the voice cried to someone to come in.
Anthony could hear the door open and close again, and a movement or two,which doubtless represented Walsingham's obeisance. Then the Queen'svoice began again, low, thin, and distinct. The two in the inner roomlistened breathlessly.
"I wish a prisoner in the Tower to be released, Sir Francis; without anytalk or to-do. And I desire you to do it for me."
There was silence, and then Walsingham's deep tones.
"Your Grace has but to command."
"His name is James Maxwell, and he is a popish priest."
A longer silence followed.
"I do not know if your Grace knows all the circumstances."
"I do, sir, or I should not interfere."
"The feeling of the people was very strong."
"Well, and what of that?"
"It will be a risk of your Grace's favour with them."
"Have I not said that my name was not to appear in the matter? And do youthink I fear my people's wrath?"
There was silence again.
"Well, Sir Francis, why do you not speak?"
"I have nothing to say, your Grace."
"Then it will be done?"
"I do not see at present how it can be done, but doubtless there is away."
"Then you will find it, sir, immediately," rang out the Queen's metallictones.
(Mary turned and nodded solemnly at Anthony, with pursed lips.)
"He was questioned on the rack two days ago, your Grace."
"Have I not said I know all the circumstances? Do you wish me to say itagain?"
The Queen was plainly getting angry.
"I ask your pardon, madam; but I only meant that he could not travelprobably, yet awhile. He was on the rack for four hours, I understand."
(Anthony felt that strange sickness rise again; but Mary laid her coolhand on his and smiled at him.)
"Well, well," rasped out Elizabeth, "I do not ask impossibilities."
"They would cease to be so, madam, if you did."
(Mary within the little room put her lips to Anthony's ear:
"Butter!" she whispered.)
"Well, sir," went on the Queen, "you shall see that he has a physician,and leave to travel as soon as he will."
"It shall be done, your Grace."
"Very well, see to it."
"I beg your Grace's pardon; but what----"
"Well, what is it now?"
"I would wish to know your Grace's pleasure as to the future for Mr.Maxwell. Is no pledge of good behaviour to be exacted from him?"
"Of course he says mass again at his peril. Either he must take the oathat once, or he shall be allowed forty-eight hours' safe-conduct with hispapers for the Continent."
"Your Grace, indeed I must remonstrate----"
Then the Queen's wrath burst out; they heard a swift movement, and therap of her high heels as she sprang to her feet.
"By God's Son," she screamed, "am I Queen or not? I have had enough ofyour counsel. You presume, sir--" her ringed hand came heavily down onthe table and they heard the lute leap and fall again.--"You presume onyour position, sir. I made you, and I can unmake you, and by God I will,if I have another word of your counselling. Be gone, and see that it bedone; I will not bid twice."
There was silence again; and they heard the outer door open and close.
Anthony's heart was beating wildly. He had sprung to his feet in atrembling excitement as the Queen had sprung to hers. The mere ring ofthat furious royal voice, even without the sight of her pale wrathfulface and blazing eyes that Walsingham looked upon as he backed out fromthe presence, was enough to make this lad's whole frame shiver. Maryapparently was accustomed to this; for she looked up at Anthony, laughingsilently, and shrugged her shoulders.
Then they heard the Queen's silk draperies rustle and her pearls chinktogether as she sank down again and took up her lute and struck thestrings. Then the metallic voice began again, with a little tremor in it,like the ground-swell after a storm; and she sang the verse through inwhich she had been interrupted:
"Why thus, my love, so kind bespeak Sweet eye, sweet lip, sweet blushing cheek-- Yet not a heart to save my pain; O Venus, take thy gifts again! Make not so fair to cause our moan, Or make a heart that's like your own."
The lute rippled away into silence.
* * * *
Mary rose quietly to her feet and nodded to Anthony.
"Come back, you two!" cried the Queen.
Mary stepped straight through, the lad behind her.
"Well," said the Queen, turning to them and showing her black teeth in asmile. "Have I kept my word?"
"Ah! your Grace," said Mary, curtseying to the ground, "you have madesome simple loving hearts very happy to-day--I do not mean Sir Francis'."
The Queen laughed.
"Come here, child," she said, holding out her glittering hand, "downhere," and Mary sank down on the Queen's footstool, and leaned againsther knee like a child, smiling up into her face; while Elizabeth put herhand under her chin and kissed her twice on the forehead.
"There, there," she said caressingly, "have I made amends? Am I a hardmistress?"
And she threw her left hand round the girl's neck and began to play withthe diamond pendant in her ear, and to stroke the smooth curve of hercheek with her flashing fingers.
Anthony, a little on one side, stood watching and wondering at this silkytigress who raged so fiercely just now.
&n
bsp; Elizabeth looked up in a moment and saw him.
"Why, here is the tall lad here still," she said, "eyeing us as if wewere monsters. Have you never yet seen two maidens loving one another,that you stare so with your great eyes? Aha! Minnie; he would like to besitting where I am--is it not so, sir?"
"I would sooner stand where I am, madam," said Anthony, by a suddeninspiration, "and look upon your Grace."
"Why, he is a courtier already," said the Queen. "You have been givinghim lessons, Minnie, you sly girl."
"A loyal heart makes the best courtier, madam," said Mary, taking theQueen's hand delicately in her own.
"And next to looking upon my Grace, Mr. Norris," said Elizabeth, "what doyou best love?"
"Listening to your Grace," said Anthony, promptly.
Mary turned and flashed all her teeth upon him in a smile, and her eyesdanced in her head.
Elizabeth laughed outright.
"He is an apt pupil," she said to Mary.
"--You mean the lute, sir?" she added.
"I mean your Grace's voice, madam. I had forgotten the lute."
"Ah, a little clumsy!" said the Queen; "not so true a thrust as theothers."
"It was not for lack of good-will," said poor Anthony blushing a little.He felt in a kind of dream, fencing in language with this strange mightycreature in scarlet and pearls, who sat up in her chair and dartedremarks at him, as with a rapier.
"Aha!" said the Queen, "he is blushing! Look, Minnie!" Mary looked at himdeliberately. Anthony became scarlet at once; and tried a desperateescape.
"It is your livery, madam," he said.
Mary clapped her hands, and glanced at the Queen.
"Yes, Minnie; he does his mistress credit."
"Yes, your Grace; but he can do other things besides talk," explainedMary.
Anthony felt like a horse being shown off by a skilful dealer, but he wasmore at his ease too after his blush.
"Extend your mercy, madam," he said, "and bid Mistress Corbet hold hertongue and spare my shame."
"Silence, sir!" said the Queen. "Go on, Minnie; what else can he do?"
"Ah! your Grace, he can hawk. Oh! you should see his peregrine;--namedafter your Majesty. That shows his loyal heart."
"I am not sure of the compliment," said the Queen; "hawks are fiercecreatures."
"It was not for her fierceness," put in Anthony, "that I named her afteryour Grace."
"Why, then, Mr. Norris?"
"For that she soars so high above all other creatures," said the lad,"and--and that she never stoops but to conquer."
Mary gave a sudden triumphant laugh, and glanced up, and Elizabeth tappedher on the cheek sharply.
"Be still, bad girl," she said. "You must not prompt during the lesson."
And so the talk went on. Anthony really acquitted himself with greatcredit, considering the extreme strangeness of his position; but such anintense weight had been lifted off his mind by the Queen's pardon ofJames Maxwell, that his nature was alight with a kind of intoxication.
All his sharpness, such as it was, rose to the surface; and Mary too wasamazed at some of his replies. Elizabeth took it as a matter of course;she was accustomed to this kind of word-fencing; she did not do it verywell herself: her royalty gave her many advantages which she oftenavailed herself of; and her address was not to be compared for a momentwith that of some of her courtiers and ladies. But still she was amusedby this slender honest lad who stood there before her in his gracefulsplashed dress, and blushed and laughed and parried, and delivered hispoint with force, even if not with any extraordinary skill.
But at last she began to show signs of weariness; and Mary managed toconvey to Anthony that it was time to be off. So he began to make hisadieux.
"Well," said Elizabeth, "let us see you at supper to-night; and in theparlours afterwards.--Ah!" she cried, suddenly, "neither of you must saya word as to how your friend was released. It must remain the act of theCouncil. My name must not appear; Walsingham will see to that, and youmust see to it too."
They both promised sincerely.
"Well, then, lad," said Elizabeth, and stretched out her hand; and Maryrose and stood by her. Anthony came up and knelt on the cushion andreceived the slender scented ringed hand on his own, and kissed itardently in his gratitude. As he released it, it cuffed him gently on thecheek.
"There, there!" said Elizabeth, "Minnie has taught you too much, itseems."
Anthony backed out of the presence, smiling; and his last glimpse wasonce more of the great scarlet-clad figure with the slender waist, andthe priceless pearls, and the haze of muslin behind that crowned auburnhead, and the pale oval face smiling at him with narrow eyes--and all ina glory of sunshine.
* * * *
He did not see Mary Corbet again until evening as she was with the Queenall the afternoon. Anthony would have wished to return to Lambeth; but itwas impossible, after the command to remain to supper; so he wandereddown along the river bank, rejoicing in the success of his petition; andwondering whether James had heard of his release yet.
Of course it was just a fly in the ointment that his own agency in thematter could never be known. It would have been at least some sort ofcompensation for his innocent share in the whole matter of the arrest.However, he was too happy to feel the sting of it. He felt, of course,greatly drawn to the Queen for her ready clemency; and yet there wassomething repellent about her too in spite of it. He felt in his heartthat it was just a caprice, like her blows and caresses; and then theassumption of youth sat very ill upon this lean middle-aged woman. Hewould have preferred less lute-playing and sprightly innuendo, and moretenderness and gravity.
* * * *
Mary had arranged that a proper Court-suit should be at his disposal forsupper, and a room to himself; so after he had returned at sunset, hechanged his clothes. The white silk suit with the high hosen, theembroidered doublet with great puffed and slashed sleeves, the shortgreen-lined cloak, the white cap and feather, and the slender sword withthe jewelled hilt, all became him very well; and he found too that Maryhad provided him with two great emerald brooches of her own, that hepinned on, one at the fastening of the crisp ruff and the other on hiscap.
He went to the private chapel for the evening prayer at half-past six;which was read by one of the chaplains; but there were very few personspresent, and none of any distinction. Religion, except as a department ofpolitics, was no integral part of Court life. The Queen only occasionallyattended evening-prayer on week days; and just now she was too busy withthe affair of the Duke of Alencon to spend unnecessary time in thatmanner.
When the evening prayer was over he followed the little company into thelong gallery that led towards the hall, through which the Queen'sprocession would pass to supper; and there he attached himself to a groupof gentlemen, some of whom he had met at Lambeth. While they weretalking, the clang of trumpets suddenly broke out from the direction ofthe Queen's apartments; and all threw themselves on their knees andremained there. The doors were flung open by servants stationed behindthem; and the wands advanced leading the procession; then came thetrumpeters blowing mightily, with a drum or two beating the step; andthen in endless profusion, servants and guards; gentlemen pensionersmagnificently habited, for they were continually about the Queen'sperson; and at last, after an official or two bearing swords, came theQueen and Alencon together; she in a superb purple toilet with brocadedunderskirt and high-heeled twinkling shoes, and breathing out essences asshe swept by smiling; and he, a pathetic little brown man, pockmarked,with an ill-shapen nose and a head too large for his undersized body, ina rich velvet suit sparkling all over with diamonds.
As they passed Anthony he heard the Duke making some French compliment inhis croaking harsh voice. Behind came the crowd of ladies, nodding,chattering, rustling; and Anthony had a swift glance of pleasure fromMistress Corbet as she went by, talking at the top of her voice.
The
company followed on to the hall, behind the distant trumpets, andAnthony found himself still with his friends somewhere at the lowerend--away from the Queen's table, who sat with Alencon at her side on adais, with the great folks about her. All through supper the mostastonishing noise went on. Everyone was talking loudly; the servants ranto and fro over the paved floor; there was the loud clatter over theplates of four hundred persons; and, to crown all, a band in themusicians' gallery overhead made brazen music all supper-time. Anthonyhad enough entertainment himself in looking about the greatbanqueting-hall, so magnificently adorned with tapestries and armour andantlers from the park; and above all by the blaze of gold and silverplate both on the tables and on the sideboards; and by watching the armyof liveried servants running to and fro incessantly; and the glowingcolours of the dresses of the guests.
Supper was over at last; and a Latin grace was exquisitely sung in fourparts by boys and men stationed in the musicians' gallery; and then theQueen's procession went out with the same ceremony as that with which ithad entered. Anthony followed behind, as he had been bidden by the Queento the private parlours afterwards; but he presently found his way barredby a page at the foot of the stairs leading to the Queen's apartments.
It was in vain that he pleaded his invitation; it was useless, as theyoung gentleman had not been informed of it. Anthony asked if he mightsee Mistress Corbet. No, that too was impossible; she was gone upstairswith the Queen's Grace and might not be disturbed. Anthony, in despair,not however unmixed with relief at escaping a further ordeal, was aboutto turn away, leaving the officious young gentleman swaggering on thestairs like a peacock, when down came Mistress Corbet herself, sailingdown in her splendour, to see what was become of the gentleman of theArchbishop's house.
"Why, here you are!" she cried from the landing as she came down, "andwhy have you not obeyed the Queen's command?"
"This young gentleman," said Anthony, indicating the astonished page,"would not let me proceed."
"It is unusual, Mistress Corbet," said the boy, "for her Grace's gueststo come without my having received instructions, unless they are greatfolk."
Mistress Corbet came down the last six steps like a stooping hawk, herwings bulged behind her; and she caught the boy one clean light cuff onthe side of the head.
"You imp!" she said, "daring to doubt the word of this gentleman. And theQueen's Grace's own special guest!"
The boy tried still to stand on his dignity and bar the way, but it wasdifficult to be dignified with a ringing head and a scarlet ear.
"Stand aside," said Mary, stamping her little buckled foot, "thisinstant; unless you would be dragged by your red ear before the Queen'sGrace. Come, Master Anthony."
So the two went upstairs together, and the lad called up after thembitterly:
"I beg your pardon, Mistress; I did not recognise he was your gallant."
"You shall pay for that," hissed Mary over the banisters.
They went along a passage or two, and the sound of a voice singing to avirginal began to ring nearer as they went, followed by a burst ofapplause.
"Lady Leicester," whispered Mary; and then she opened the door and theywent in.
There were three rooms opening on one another with wide entrances, sothat really one long room was the result. They were all three fairlyfull; that into which they entered, the first in the row, was occupied bysome gentlemen-pensioners and ladies talking and laughing; some playingshove-groat, and some of them still applauding the song that had justended. The middle room was much the same; and the third, which was a stephigher than the others, was that in which was the Queen, with LadyLeicester and a few more. Lady Leicester had just finished a song, andwas laying her virginal down. There was a great fire burning in themiddle room, with seats about it, and here Mary Corbet brought Anthony.Those near him eyed him a little; but his companion was sufficientwarrant of his respectability; and they soon got into talk, which wassuddenly interrupted by the Queen's voice from the next room.
"Minnie, Minnie, if you can spare a moment from your lad, come and helpus at a dance."
The Queen was plainly in high good-humour; and Mary got up and went intothe Queen's room. Those round the fire stood up and pushed the seatsback, and the games ceased in the third room; as her Grace neededspectators and applause.
Then there arose the rippling of lutes from the ladies in the next room,in slow swaying measure, with the gentle tap of a drum now and again; andthe _pavane_ began--a stately dignified dance; and among all the ladiesmoved the great Queen herself, swaying and bending with much grace anddignity. It was the strangest thing for Anthony to find himself here, araven among all these peacocks, and birds of paradise; and he wonderedat himself and at the strange humour of Providence, as he watched theshimmer of the dresses and the sparkle of the shoes and jewels, and thesoft clouds of muslin and lace that shivered and rustled as the ladiesstepped; the firelight shone through the wide doorway on this glowingmovement, and groups of candles in sconces within the room increased andsteadied the soft intensity of the light. The soft tingling instruments,with the slow tap-tap marking the measure like a step, seemed atranslation into chord and melody of this stately tender exercise. And sothis glorious flower-bed, loaded too with a wealth of essences in thedresses and the sweet-washed gloves, swayed under the wind of the music,bending and rising together in slow waves and ripples. Then it ceased;and the silence was broken by a quick storm of applause; while thedancers waited for the lutes. Then all the instruments broke out togetherin quick triple time; the stringed instruments supplying a hastythrobbing accompaniment, while the shrill flutes began to whistle and thedrums to gallop;--there was yet a pause in the dance, till the Queen madethe first movement;--and then the whole whirled off on the wings of a_coranto_.
It was bewildering to Anthony, who had never even dreamed of such a dancebefore. He watched first the lower line of the shoes; and the wholefloor, in reality above, and in the mirror of the polished boards below,seemed scintillating in lines of diamond light; the heavy underskirts ofbrocade, puffed satin, and cloth of gold, with glimpses of foamy lacebeneath, whirled and tossed above these flashing vibrations. Then helooked at the higher strata, and there was a tossing sea of faces andwhite throats, borne up as it seemed--now revealed, now hidden--on cloudsof undulating muslin and lace, with sparkles of precious stones set inruff and wings and on high piled hair.
He watched, fascinated, the faces as they appeared and vanished; therewas every imaginable expression; the serious looks of one who tookdancing as a solemn task, and marked her position and considered hersteps; the wild gaiety of another, all white teeth and dimples and eyes,intoxicated by movement and music and colour, as men are by wine, andguided and sustained by the furious genius of the dance, rather than byintention of any kind. There was the courtly self-restraint of one tallbeauty, who danced as a pleasant duty and loved it, but never lostcontrol of her own bending, slender grace; ah! and there was the ovalface crowned with auburn hair and pearls, the lower lip drawn up underthe black teeth with an effort, till it appeared to snarl, and the ropesof pearls leaping wildly on her lean purple stomacher. And over all thegrave oak walls and the bright sconces and the taper flames blown aboutby the eddying gusts from the whirlpool beneath.
As Anthony went down the square winding staircase, an hour later when theevening was over, and the keen winter air poured up to meet him, hisbrain was throbbing with the madness of dance and music and whirlingcolour. Here, it seemed to him, lay the secret of life. For a few minuteshis old day-dreams came back but in more intoxicating dress. The figureof Mary Corbet in her rose-coloured silk and her clouds of black hair,and her jewels and her laughing eyes and scarlet mouth, and her violetfragrance and her fire--this dominated the boy. As he walked towards thestables across the starlit court, she seemed to move before him, to holdout her hands to him, to call him her own dear lad; to invite him out ofthe drab-coloured life that lay on all sides, behind and before, up intoa mystic region of jewelled romance, where she and he wou
ld live and beone in the endless music of rippling strings and shrill flutes and themaddening tap of a little hidden drum.
But the familiar touch of his own sober suit and the creaking saddle ashe rode home to Lambeth, and the icy wind that sang in the river sedges,and the wholesome smell of the horse and the touch of the coarse hair atthe shoulder, talked and breathed the old Puritan common sense back tohim again. That warm-painted, melodious world he had left was gaudynonsense; and dancing was not the same as living; and Mary Corbet was notjust a rainbow on the foam that would die when the sun went in; but bothshe and he together were human souls, redeemed by the death of theSaviour, with His work to do and no time or energy for folly; and JamesMaxwell in the Tower--(thank God, however, not for long!)--James Maxwellwith his wrenched joints and forehead and lips wet with agony, was in theright; and that lean bitter furious woman in the purple and pearls, whosupped to the blare of trumpets, and danced to the ripple of lutes,wholly and utterly and eternally in the wrong.