CHAPTER XXIX
THE FAVORITE IS REASSURED
The young man's brow drew dark; tumultuous thoughts filled his brain;Caillette's words, Brusquet's rhymes, confirming his own conviction,rankled in his mind. This king dared arrogate a law absolute untohimself; its statutes, his own caprices; its canons, his ownpretensions? The duke remembered the young girl's outburst against themonarch and a feeling of hatred arose in his breast; his handinvoluntarily sought his sword, the blade of Francis' implacable enemy.
"We have heard your story, my child, from our brother, the emperor,"the king was saying, "and although your father rebelled against hismonarch, we harbor it not against the daughter."
"Sire," she answered, in a low tone, "I regret the emperor should haveacquainted you with this matter."
"You have no cause for fear," Francis replied, misinterpreting herwords. She offered no response, and the duke, moving into the light,observed the king was regarding the young girl intently, his tallfigure conspicuous above the courtiers.
Flushed, Jacqueline looked down; the white-robed form, however, verystraight and erect; her hair, untrammeled with the extreme conventionsof the day; a single flower a spot of color amid its abundance. Eventhe duchess--bejeweled, bedecked, tricked out--in her own mind hadpronounced the young girl beautiful, and there surely was no mistakingthe covert admiration of the monarch as his glance encompassed her.Despite her assumed composure, it was obvious to the duke, however,that only by a strong effort had she nerved herself to that evening'stask; the red hue on her cheeks, the brightness of her eyes, told ofthe suppressed excitement her manner failed to betray.
"Why should you leave with Charles?" continued Francis. "Perhaps werewe over-hasty in confiscating the castle of the constable. _VraiDieu_," he added, meditatively. "Had he unbent but a little!Marguerite told us we were driving him to despair, but the queen regentand the rest of our counselors prevailed--" He broke off abruptly anddirected a bolder gaze to hers. "May not a monarch, Mademoiselle, undowhat he has done?"
"Even a king can not give life to the dead," she replied, and her voicesounded hard and unyielding.
"No," he assented, moodily, "but it would not be impossible to restorethe castle--to his daughter."
"Sire!" she exclaimed in surprise; then shook her head. "With yourMajesty's permission, I shall leave with the emperor."
Francis made an impatient movement; her inflexibility recalled one wholong ago had renounced his fealty to the throne; her resistance kindledthe flame that had been smoldering in his breast.
"But if I have pointed out to the emperor that your proper station ishere?" he went on. "If he recognizes that it would be to yourdisadvantage to divert that destiny which lies in France?"
His words were measured; his manner tinged with seeming paternalinterest; but, as through a mask, she discerned his face, cynical,libidinous, the countenance of a Sybarite, not a king. The air becamestifling; the ribaldry of laughter enveloped her; instinctively sheglanced around, and her restless, troubled gaze fell upon the duke.
What was it he read in her eyes? A confession of insecurity, fear; amute appeal? Before it all his doubts and misgivings vanished; thelook they exchanged was like that when she had stood on the staircasein the inn.
Upon the monarch, engrossed in his purpose, it was lost. If silencegive consent, then had she already acquiesced in a wish which, from aking, became a demand. But Francis, ever complaisant, with aninconsistent chivalry worthy of the subterfuge of his character,desired to appear forbearing, indulgent.
"For your own sake," he added, "must we refuse that permission you askof us."
She did not answer, and, noting the direction of her gaze, the eagerexpectancy written on her face, Francis turned sharply. At the sametime the duke stepped forward.
The benignity faded from the king's manner; his countenance, which "atno time would have made a man's fortune," became rancorous, caustic;the corners of his mouth appeared almost updrawn to his nostrils. Hehad little reason to care for the duke, and this interruption, soflagrant, menacing almost, did not tend to enhance his regard. Innowise daunted, the young man stood before him.
"I trust, Sire, your Majesty will reconsider your decision?"
With a strained look the young girl regarded them. To what new dangershad she summoned him? Was not she, the duke, even the emperor himself,in the power of the king, for the present at least? And knowing wellFrancis' headstrong passions, his violence when crossed, it was notstrange at that moment her heart sank; she felt on the brink of anabyss; a nameless peril toward which she had drawn the companion of herflight. It seemed an endless interval before the monarch spoke.
"Ah, you heard!" remarked Francis at length, satirically.
"Inadvertently, Sire," answered the duke. His voice was steady, hisface pale, but in his blue eyes a glint as of fire came and went.Self-assurance marked his bearing; dignity, pride. He looked not atthe young girl, but calmly met the scrutiny of the king. The lattersurveyed him from head to foot; then suddenly stared hard at a swordwhose hilt gleamed even brighter than his own, and was fashioned in aform that recalled not imperfectly a hazard of other days.
He looked not at the young girl, but calmly met thescrutiny of the king.]
"Where did you get that blade?" he asked, abruptly.
"From the daughter of the Constable of Dubrois."
"Why did she give it to you?"
"To protect her, Sire."
The monarch's countenance became more thoughtful; less acrimonious.How the present seemed involved in the past! Were kings, then,enmeshed in the web of their own acts? Were even the gods not exemptfrom retributory justice? Those were days of superstition, when acoincidence assumed the importance of inexorable destiny.
"Once was it drawn against me," said Francis, reflectively.
"I trust, Sire, it may never again be drawn by an enemy of yourMajesty."
The king did not reply, but stood as a man who yet took counsel withhimself.
"By what right," he asked, finally, "do you speak for the lady?"
A moment the duke looked disconcerted. "Bywhat right?"
Then swiftly he regarded the girl. As quickly--a flash it seemed--herdark eyes made answer, their language more potent than words. He couldbut understand; doubt and misgiving were forgotten; the hesitationvanished from his manner. Hastily crossing to her side, he took herhand and unresistingly it lay in his. His heart beat faster; hersudden acquiescence filled him with wonder; at the same time, his taskseemed easier. To protect her now! The king coughed ironically, andthe duke turned from her to him.
"By what right, your Majesty?" he said in a voice which soundeddifferent to Francis. "This lady is my affianced bride, Sire."
Pique, umbrage, mingled in the expression which replaced all otherfeeling on the king's countenance as he heard this announcement. Withmanifest displeasure he looked from one to the other.
"Is this true, Mademoiselle?" he asked, sternly.
Her cheek was red, but she held herself bravely.
"Yes, Sire," she said.
A new emotion leaped to the duke's face as he heard her lips thusfearlessly confirm the answer of her eyes. And so before themonarch--in that court which Marguerite called the Court of Love--theyplighted their troth.
Something in their manner, however, puzzled the observant king; anexaltation, perhaps, uncalled for by the simple telling of a secretunderstanding between them; that rapid interchange of glances; thatsignificance of manner when the duke stepped to her side. Francis bithis lips.
"_Ma foi!_" he exclaimed, sharply. "This is somewhat abrupt. Howlong, my Lord, since she promised to be your wife?"
"Since your Majesty spoke," returned the duke, tranquilly.
"And before that?"
"Before? I only knew that _I_ loved _her_, Sire."
"And now you know, for the first time, that _she_ loves _you_?" addedthe king, dryly. "But the emperor--are you not presuming overmuch thathe
will give his consent? Or think you"--with fine irony--"thatmarriages of state are made in Heaven?"
"It was once my privilege, Sire, so to serve the emperor, as hisMajesty thought, that he bade me ask of him what I would, when I would.Heretofore have I had nothing to ask; now, everything."
Some of the asperity faded from Francis' glance. The situationappealed to his strong penchant for merry _plaisanterie_.Besides--such was his overweening pride--to hear a woman confess shecared for another dampened his own ardor, instead of stimulating it."None but himself could be his parallel;" the royal lover could brookno rival. Had she merely desired to marry the former fool--theCountess of Chateaubriant had had a husband--but to love him!
After all, she was but an audacious slip of a girl; a dark-browed, boldgipsy; by nature, intended for the motley--yes, the Duchesse d'Etampeswas right. Then, he liked not her parentage; she was a constantreminder of one who had been like to make vacant the throne of France,and to destroy, root and branch, the proud house of Orleans. Moreover,whispered avarice, he would save the castle for himself; a stately andright royal possession. He had, indeed, been over-generous inproffering it. Love, said reason, was unstable, flitting; woman, awill-o'-the-wisp; but a castle--its noble solidity would endure. Atthe same time, policy admonished the king that the duke was a subjectof his good brother, the emperor, and a rich, powerful noble withal.So with such grace as he could command Francis greeted one whom hepreferred to regard as an ally rather than an enemy.
"Truly, my Lord," he said not discourteously, masking in a courtlymanner his personal dislike for him whose sharp criticism he once hadfelt in Fools' hall, "a nimble-witted jester was lost when you resumedthe dignity of your position. But," he added cautiously, as a suddenthought moved him, "this lady has appeared somewhat unexpectedly; thehouse of Friedwald is not an inconsequential one."
"What mean you, Sire?" asked the young man, as the king paused.
Francis studied him shrewdly. "Why," he replied at length,hesitatingly, "there is that controversy of the Constable of Dubrois;certain lands and a castle, long since rightly confiscated."
"Your Majesty, there is another castle, and lands to spare, in adistant country," returned the duke quickly. "These will suffice."
"As you will," said the king in a livelier tone. "For the future,command our good offices--since you have made us sponsor of yourfortunes."
With which well-covered confession of his own defeat, Francis strodeaway. As he turned, however, he caught the smile of the Duchessed'Etampes and crossed to her graciously.
"Your dress becomes you well, Anne," he said.
She glanced down at herself demurely; her lashes veiled a sudden gleamof triumph. "How kind of you, Sire, to notice--my poor gown."
"I was right," murmured Triboulet, joyfully, as he saw king andfavorite walking together. "No one will ever replace the duchess."
Silent, hand in hand, the duke and the joculatrix stood upon thebalcony. Below them lay the earth, wrapped in hazy light. Behindthem, the court, with its glamour.
"Have I done well, Jacqueline, to answer the king as I have done?" hesaid finally. "Are you content to resign all--forever--here in France?To go with me--"
"Into a new world," she interrupted. "Once I asked you to take me, butyou hesitated, and were like to leave me behind you."
"But now 'tis I who ask," he answered.
"And I--who hesitate?" looking out over the valley, where the shadow ofa cloud crossed the land.
"Do you hesitate, Jacqueline?"
She turned. About her lips trembled the old fleeting smile.
"What woman knows her mind, Sir Fool? Yet if it were not so--"
"If it were not so?" he said, eagerly.
Her eyes became grave on a sudden. "I might believe I had been of onemind--long."
"Jacqueline!--sweet jestress!--"
He caught her suddenly in his arms, his fine young features aglow.This then was the goal of his desires; a goal of delight, far, farbeyond all youthful dreams or early imaginings. With drooping eyelids,she stood in his embrace; she, once so proud, so self-willed. He drewher closer--kissed her hair!--the rose!--
She raised her head, and--sweeter still--he kissed her lips.
Across the valley the shadow receded; vanished. In the full glory ofnightly splendor lay the earth, and as the mystic radiance lighted up aworld of beauty, it seemed at last they beheld their world; the lightmore beautiful for the shade and the purple mists.
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