II
I awoke next morning with the music of the horn in my ears, and leapingout of the ancient bed, went to a curtained window where the sunlightfiltered through little deep-set panes. The horn ceased as I looked intothe court below.
A man who might have been brother to the two falconers of the nightbefore stood in the midst of a pack of hounds. A curved horn was strappedover his back, and in his hand he held a long-lashed whip. The dogswhined and yelped, dancing around him in anticipation; there was thestamp of horses, too, in the walled yard.
"Mount!" cried a voice in Breton, and with a clatter of hoofs the twofalconers, with falcons upon their wrists, rode into the courtyard amongthe hounds. Then I heard another voice which sent the blood throbbingthrough my heart: "Piriou Louis, hunt the hounds well and spare neitherspur nor whip. Thou Raoul and thou Gaston, see that the _epervier_does not prove himself _niais_, and if it be best in your judgment,_faites courtoisie a l'oiseau. Jardiner un oiseau_, like the_mue_ there on Hastur's wrist, is not difficult, but thou, Raoul,mayest not find it so simple to govern that _hagard_. Twice lastweek he foamed _au vif_ and lost the _beccade_ although he isused to the _leurre_. The bird acts like a stupid _branchier.Paitre un hagard n'est pas si facile."_
Was I dreaming? The old language of falconry which I had read in yellowmanuscripts--the old forgotten French of the middle ages was sounding inmy ears while the hounds bayed and the hawks' bells tinkled accompanimentto the stamping horses. She spoke again in the sweet forgotten language:
"If you would rather attach the _longe_ and leave thy _hagard aubloc_, Raoul, I shall say nothing; for it were a pity to spoil so faira day's sport with an ill-trained _sors_. _Essimer abaisser_,--it ispossibly the best way. _Ca lui donnera des reins._ I was perhaps hastywith the bird. It takes time to pass _a la filiere_ and the exercises_d'escap_."
Then the falconer Raoul bowed in his stirrups and replied: "If it be thepleasure of Mademoiselle, I shall keep the hawk."
"It is my wish," she answered. "Falconry I know, but you have yet to giveme many a lesson in _Autourserie_, my poor Raoul. Sieur Piriou Louismount!"
The huntsman sprang into an archway and in an instant returned, mountedupon a strong black horse, followed by a piqueur also mounted.
"Ah!" she cried joyously, "speed Glemarec Rene! speed! speed all! Soundthy horn, Sieur Piriou!"
The silvery music of the hunting-horn filled the courtyard, the houndssprang through the gateway and galloping hoof-beats plunged out of thepaved court; loud on the drawbridge, suddenly muffled, then lost in theheather and bracken of the moors. Distant and more distant sounded thehorn, until it became so faint that the sudden carol of a soaring larkdrowned it in my ears. I heard the voice below responding to some callfrom within the house.
"I do not regret the chase, I will go another time Courtesy to thestranger, Pelagie, remember!"
And a feeble voice came quavering from within the house,"_Courtoisie_."
I stripped, and rubbed myself from head to foot in the huge earthen basinof icy water which stood upon the stone floor at the foot of my bed. ThenI looked about for my clothes. They were gone, but on a settle near thedoor lay a heap of garments which I inspected with astonishment. As myclothes had vanished, I was compelled to attire myself in the costumewhich had evidently been placed there for me to wear while my own clothesdried. Everything was there, cap, shoes, and hunting doublet of silverygrey homespun; but the close-fitting costume and seamless shoes belongedto another century, and I remembered the strange costumes of the threefalconers in the court-yard. I was sure that it was not the modern dressof any portion of France or Brittany; but not until I was dressed andstood before a mirror between the windows did I realize that I wasclothed much more like a young huntsman of the middle ages than like aBreton of that day. I hesitated and picked up the cap. Should I go downand present myself in that strange guise? There seemed to be no help forit, my own clothes were gone and there was no bell in the ancient chamberto call a servant; so I contented myself with removing a short hawk'sfeather from the cap, and, opening the door, went downstairs.
By the fireplace in the large room at the foot of the stairs an oldBreton woman sat spinning with a distaff. She looked up at me when Iappeared, and, smiling frankly, wished me health in the Breton language,to which I laughingly replied in French. At the same moment my hostessappeared and returned my salutation with a grace and dignity that sent athrill to my heart. Her lovely head with its dark curly hair was crownedwith a head-dress which set all doubts as to the epoch of my own costumeat rest. Her slender figure was exquisitely set off in the homespunhunting-gown edged with silver, and on her gauntlet-covered wrist shebore one of her petted hawks. With perfect simplicity she took my handand led me into the garden in the court, and seating herself before atable invited me very sweetly to sit beside her. Then she asked me in hersoft quaint accent how I had passed the night, and whether I was verymuch inconvenienced by wearing the clothes which old Pelagie had putthere for me while I slept. I looked at my own clothes and shoes, dryingin the sun by the garden-wall, and hated them. What horrors they werecompared with the graceful costume which I now wore! I told her thislaughing, but she agreed with me very seriously.
"We will throw them away," she said in a quiet voice. In my astonishmentI attempted to explain that I not only could not think of acceptingclothes from anybody, although for all I knew it might be the custom ofhospitality in that part of the country, but that I should cut animpossible figure if I returned to France clothed as I was then.
She laughed and tossed her pretty head, saying something in old Frenchwhich I did not understand, and then Pelagie trotted out with a tray onwhich stood two bowls of milk, a loaf of white bread, fruit, a platter ofhoney-comb, and a flagon of deep red wine. "You see I have not yet brokenmy fast because I wished you to eat with me. But I am very hungry," shesmiled.
"I would rather die than forget one word of what you have said!" Iblurted out, while my cheeks burned. "She will think me mad," I added tomyself, but she turned to me with sparkling eyes.
"Ah!" she murmured. "Then Monsieur knows all that there is of chivalry--"
She crossed herself and broke bread. I sat and watched her white hands,not daring to raise my eyes to hers.
"Will you not eat?" she asked. "Why do you look so troubled?"
Ah, why? I knew it now. I knew I would give my life to touch with my lipsthose rosy palms--I understood now that from the moment when I lookedinto her dark eyes there on the moor last night I had loved her. My greatand sudden passion held me speechless.
"Are you ill at ease?" she asked again.
Then, like a man who pronounces his own doom, I answered in a low voice:"Yes, I am ill at ease for love of you." And as she did not stir noranswer, the same power moved my lips in spite of me and I said, "I, whoam unworthy of the lightest of your thoughts, I who abuse hospitality andrepay your gentle courtesy with bold presumption, I love you."
She leaned her head upon her hands, and answered softly, "I love you.Your words are very dear to me. I love you."
"Then I shall win you."
"Win me," she replied.
But all the time I had been sitting silent, my face turned toward her.She, also silent, her sweet face resting on her upturned palm, sat facingme, and as her eyes looked into mine I knew that neither she nor I hadspoken human speech; but I knew that her soul had answered mine, and Idrew myself up feeling youth and joyous love coursing through every vein.She, with a bright colour in her lovely face, seemed as one awakened froma dream, and her eyes sought mine with a questioning glance which made metremble with delight. We broke our fast, speaking of ourselves. I toldher my name and she told me hers, the Demoiselle Jeanne d'Ys.
She spoke of her father and mother's death, and how the nineteen of heryears had been passed in the little fortified farm alone with her nursePelagie, Glemarec Rene the piqueur, and the four falconers, Raoul,Gaston, Hastur, and the Sieur Piriou Louis, who had served her father.She had never been outsid
e the moorland--never even had seen a human soulbefore, except the falconers and Pelagie. She did not know how she hadheard of Kerselec; perhaps the falconers had spoken of it. She knew thelegends of Loup Garou and Jeanne la Flamme from her nurse Pelagie. Sheembroidered and spun flax. Her hawks and hounds were her onlydistraction. When she had met me there on the moor she had been sofrightened that she almost dropped at the sound of my voice. She had, itwas true, seen ships at sea from the cliffs, but as far as the eye couldreach the moors over which she galloped were destitute of any sign ofhuman life. There was a legend which old Pelagie told, how anybody oncelost in the unexplored moorland might never return, because the moorswere enchanted. She did not know whether it was true, she never hadthought about it until she met me. She did not know whether the falconershad even been outside, or whether they could go if they would. The booksin the house which Pelagie, the nurse, had taught her to read werehundreds of years old.
All this she told me with a sweet seriousness seldom seen in any one butchildren. My own name she found easy to pronounce, and insisted, becausemy first name was Philip, I must have French blood in me. She did notseem curious to learn anything about the outside world, and I thoughtperhaps she considered it had forfeited her interest and respect from thestories of her nurse.
We were still sitting at the table, and she was throwing grapes to thesmall field birds which came fearlessly to our very feet.
I began to speak in a vague way of going, but she would not hear of it,and before I knew it I had promised to stay a week and hunt with hawk andhound in their company. I also obtained permission to come again fromKerselec and visit her after my return.
"Why," she said innocently, "I do not know what I should do if you nevercame back;" and I, knowing that I had no right to awaken her with thesudden shock which the avowal of my own love would bring to her, satsilent, hardly daring to breathe.
"You will come very often?" she asked.
"Very often," I said.
"Every day?"
"Every day."
"Oh," she sighed, "I am very happy. Come and see my hawks."
She rose and took my hand again with a childlike innocence of possession,and we walked through the garden and fruit trees to a grassy lawn whichwas bordered by a brook. Over the lawn were scattered fifteen or twentystumps of trees--partially imbedded in the grass--and upon all of theseexcept two sat falcons. They were attached to the stumps by thongs whichwere in turn fastened with steel rivets to their legs just above thetalons. A little stream of pure spring water flowed in a winding coursewithin easy distance of each perch.
The birds set up a clamour when the girl appeared, but she went from oneto another, caressing some, taking others for an instant upon her wrist,or stooping to adjust their jesses.
"Are they not pretty?" she said. "See, here is a falcon-gentil. We callit 'ignoble,' because it takes the quarry in direct chase. This is a bluefalcon. In falconry we call it 'noble' because it rises over the quarry,and wheeling, drops upon it from above. This white bird is a gerfalconfrom the north. It is also 'noble!' Here is a merlin, and this tierceletis a falcon-heroner."
I asked her how she had learned the old language of falconry. She did notremember, but thought her father must have taught it to her when she wasvery young.
Then she led me away and showed me the young falcons still in the nest."They are termed _niais_ in falconry," she explained. "A_branchier_ is the young bird which is just able to leave the nestand hop from branch to branch. A young bird which has not yet moulted iscalled a _sors_, and a _mue_ is a hawk which has moulted incaptivity. When we catch a wild falcon which has changed its plumage weterm it a _hagard_. Raoul first taught me to dress a falcon. Shall Iteach you how it is done?"
She seated herself on the bank of the stream among the falcons and Ithrew myself at her feet to listen.
Then the Demoiselle d'Ys held up one rosy-tipped finger and began verygravely.
"First one must catch the falcon."
"I am caught," I answered.
She laughed very prettily and told me my _dressage_ would perhaps bedifficult, as I was noble.
"I am already tamed," I replied; "jessed and belled."
She laughed, delighted. "Oh, my brave falcon; then you will return at mycall?"
"I am yours," I answered gravely.
She sat silent for a moment. Then the colour heightened in her cheeks andshe held up her finger again, saying, "Listen; I wish to speak offalconry--"
"I listen, Countess Jeanne d'Ys."
But again she fell into the reverie, and her eyes seemed fixed onsomething beyond the summer clouds.
"Philip," she said at last.
"Jeanne," I whispered.
"That is all,--that is what I wished," she sighed,--"Philip and Jeanne."
She held her hand toward me and I touched it with my lips.
"Win me," she said, but this time it was the body and soul which spoke inunison.
After a while she began again: "Let us speak of falconry."
"Begin," I replied; "we have caught the falcon."
Then Jeanne d'Ys took my hand in both of hers and told me how withinfinite patience the young falcon was taught to perch upon the wrist,how little by little it became used to the belled jesses and the_chaperon a cornette_.
"They must first have a good appetite," she said; "then little by littleI reduce their nourishment; which in falconry we call _pat_. When,after many nights passed _au bloc_ as these birds are now, I prevailupon the _hagard_ to stay quietly on the wrist, then the bird isready to be taught to come for its food. I fix the _pat_ to the endof a thong, or _leurre_, and teach the bird to come to me as soon asI begin to whirl the cord in circles about my head. At first I drop the_pat_ when the falcon comes, and he eats the food on the ground.After a little he will learn to seize the _leurre_ in motion as Iwhirl it around my head or drag it over the ground. After this it is easyto teach the falcon to strike at game, always remembering to _'fairecourtoisie a l'oiseau'_, that is, to allow the bird to taste thequarry."
A squeal from one of the falcons interrupted her, and she arose to adjustthe _longe_ which had become whipped about the _bloc_, but thebird still flapped its wings and screamed.
"What _is_ the matter?" she said. "Philip, can you see?"
I looked around and at first saw nothing to cause the commotion, whichwas now heightened by the screams and flapping of all the birds. Then myeye fell upon the flat rock beside the stream from which the girl hadrisen. A grey serpent was moving slowly across the surface of theboulder, and the eyes in its flat triangular head sparkled like jet.
"A couleuvre," she said quietly.
"It is harmless, is it not?" I asked.
She pointed to the black V-shaped figure on the neck.
"It is certain death," she said; "it is a viper."
We watched the reptile moving slowly over the smooth rock to where thesunlight fell in a broad warm patch.
I started forward to examine it, but she clung to my arm crying, "Don't,Philip, I am afraid."
"For me?"
"For you, Philip,--I love you."
Then I took her in my arms and kissed her on the lips, but all I couldsay was: "Jeanne, Jeanne, Jeanne." And as she lay trembling on my breast,something struck my foot in the grass below, but I did not heed it. Thenagain something struck my ankle, and a sharp pain shot through me. Ilooked into the sweet face of Jeanne d'Ys and kissed her, and with all mystrength lifted her in my arms and flung her from me. Then bending, Itore the viper from my ankle and set my heel upon its head. I rememberfeeling weak and numb,--I remember falling to the ground. Through myslowly glazing eyes I saw Jeanne's white face bending close to mine, andwhen the light in my eyes went out I still felt her arms about my neck,and her soft cheek against my drawn lips.
When I opened my eyes, I looked around in terror. Jeanne was gone. I sawthe stream and the flat rock; I saw the crushed viper in the grass besideme, but the hawks and _blocs_ had disappeared. I sprang to my feet.The garden, the
fruit trees, the drawbridge and the walled court weregone. I stared stupidly at a heap of crumbling ruins, ivy-covered andgrey, through which great trees had pushed their way. I crept forward,dragging my numbed foot, and as I moved, a falcon sailed from thetree-tops among the ruins, and soaring, mounting in narrowing circles,faded and vanished in the clouds above.
"Jeanne, Jeanne," I cried, but my voice died on my lips, and I fell on myknees among the weeds. And as God willed it, I, not knowing, had fallenkneeling before a crumbling shrine carved in stone for our Mother ofSorrows. I saw the sad face of the Virgin wrought in the cold stone. Isaw the cross and thorns at her feet, and beneath it I read:
"PRAY FOR THE SOUL OF THE DEMOISELLE JEANNE D'Ys, WHO DIED IN HER YOUTH FOR LOVE OF PHILIP, A STRANGER. A.D. 1573."
But upon the icy slab lay a woman's glove still warm and fragrant.
THE PROPHETS' PARADISE
"If but the Vine and Love Abjuring Band Are in the Prophets' Paradise to stand, Alack, I doubt the Prophets' Paradise, Were empty as the hollow of one's hand."