The Essential James Branch Cabell Collection - James Branch Cabell

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was a silence. "You, a Frenchman, come as the emissary of King Henry who has devastated France! are there no English lords, then, left alive of his, army?"

      The Vicomte de Montbrison said; "There is at all events no person better fitted to patch up this dishonorable business of your captivity, in which no clean man would care to meddle."

      She appraised this, and said with entire irrelevance: "The world has smirched you, somehow. At last you have done something save consider how badly I treated you. I praise God, Antoine, for it brings you nearer."

      He told her all. King Henry, it appeared, had dealt with him at Havering in perfect frankness. The King needed money for his wars in France, and failing the seizure of Jehane's enormous wealth, had exhausted every resource. "And France I mean to have," the King said. "Now the world knows you enjoy the favor of the Comte de Charolais; so get me an alliance with Burgundy against my imbecile brother of France, and Dame Jehane shall repossess her liberty. There you have my price."

      "And this price I paid," the Vicomte sternly said, "for 'Unhardy is unseely,' Satan whispered, and I knew that Duke Philippe trusted me. Yea, all Burgundy I marshalled under your stepson's banner, and for three years I fought beneath his loathed banner, until at Troyes we had trapped and slain the last loyal Frenchman. And to-day in France my lands are confiscate, and there is not an honest Frenchman but spits upon my name. All infamy I come to you for this last time, Jehane! as a man already dead I come to you, Jehane, for in France they thirst to murder me, and England has no further need of Montbrison, her blunted and her filthy instrument!"

      The woman nodded here. "You have set my thankless service above your life, above your honor. I find the rhymester glorious and very vile."

      "All vile," he answered; "and outworn! King's daughter, I swore to you, long since, eternal service. Of love I freely gave you yonder in Navarre, as yonder at Eltham I crucified my innermost heart for your delectation. Yet I, at least, keep faith, and in your face I fling faith like a glove--outworn, it may be, and God knows, unclean! Yet I, at least, keep faith! Lands and wealth have I given, up for you, O king's daughter, and life itself have I given you, and lifelong service have I given you, and all that I had save honor; and at the last I give you honor, too. Now let the naked fool depart, Jehane, for he has nothing more to give."

      While the Vicomte de Montbrison spoke thus, she had leaned upon the sill of an open casement. "Indeed, it had been better," she said, still with her face averted, and gazing downward at the tree-tops beneath, "it had been far better had we never met. For this love of ours has proven a tyrannous and evil lord. I have had everything, and upon each feast of will and sense the world afforded me this love has swept down, like a harpy--was it not a harpy you called the bird in that old poem of yours?--to rob me of delight. And you have had nothing, for he has pilfered you of life, giving only dreams in exchange, my poor Antoine, and he has led you at the last to infamy. We are as God made us, and--I may not understand why He permits this despotism."

      Thereafter, somewhere below, a peasant sang as he passed supperward through the green twilight, lit as yet by one low-hanging star alone.

      Sang the peasant:

      "King Jesus hung upon the Cross, 'And have ye sinned?' quo' He,--. 'Nay, Dysmas, 'tis no honest loss When Satan cogs the dice ye toss, And thou shall sup with Me,-- Sedebis apud angelos, Quia amavisti!'

      "At Heaven's Gate was Heaven's Queen, 'And have ye sinned?' quo' She,-- 'And would I hold him worth a bean That durst not seek, because unclean, My cleansing charity?-- Speak thou that wast the Magdalene, Quia amavisti!'"

      "It may be that in some sort the jingle answers me!" then said Jehane; and she began with an odd breathlessness, "Friend, when King Henry dies--and even now he dies--shall I not as Regent possess such power as no woman has ever wielded in Europe? can aught prevent this?"

      "It is true," he answered. "You leave this prison to rule over England again, and over conquered France as well, and naught can prevent it."

      "Unless, friend, I were wedded to a Frenchman. Then would the stern English lords never permit that I have any finger in the government." She came to him with conspicuous deliberation and rested her hands upon his breast. "Friend, I am weary of these tinsel splendors. What are this England and this France to me, who crave the real kingdom?"

      Her mouth was tremulous and lax, and her gray eyes were more brilliant than the star yonder. The man's arms were about her, and of the man's face I cannot tell you. "King's daughter! mistress of half Europe! I am a beggar, an outcast, as a leper among honorable persons."

      But it was as though he had not spoken. "Friend, it was for this I have outlived these garish, fevered years, it was this which made me glad when I was a child and laughed without knowing why. That I might to-day give up this so-great power for love of you, my all-incapable and soiled Antoine, was, as I now know, the end to which the Eternal Father created me. For, look you," she pleaded, "to surrender absolute dominion over half Europe is a sacrifice. Assure me that it is a sacrifice, Antoine! O glorious fool, delude me into the belief that I surrender much in choosing you! Nay, I know it is as nothing beside what you have given up for me, but it is all I have--it is all I have, Antoine!"

      He drew a deep and big-lunged breath that seemed to inform his being with an indomitable vigor; and grief and doubtfulness went quite away from him. "Love leads us," he said, "and through the sunlight of the world Love leads us, and through the filth of it Love leads us, but always in the end, if we but follow without swerving, Love leads upward. Yet, O God upon the Cross! Thou that in the article of death didst pardon Dysmas! as what maimed warriors of life, as what bemired travellers in muddied byways, must we presently come to Thee!"

      "Ah, but we will come hand in hand," she answered; "and He will comprehend."

      THE END OF THE NINTH NOVEL

      X

      THE STORY OF THE FOX-BRUSH

      "Dame serez de mon cueur, sans debat, Entierement, jusques mort me consume. Laurier souf qui pour mon droit combat, Olivier franc, m'ostant toute amertume."

      THE TENTH NOVEL.--KATHARINE OF VALOIS IS LOVED BY A HUNTSMAN, AND LOVES HIM GREATLY; THEN FINDS HIM, TO HER HORROR, AN IMPOSTOR; AND FOR A SUFFICIENT REASON CONSENTS TO MARRY QUITE ANOTHER PERSON, NOT ALL UNWILLINGLY.

      _The Story of the Fox-Brush_

      In the year of grace 1417, about Martinmas (thus Nicolas begins), Queen Isabeau fled with her daughter the Lady Katharine to Chartres. There the Queen was met by the Duke of Burgundy, and these two laid their heads together to such good effect that presently they got back into Paris, and in its public places massacred some three thousand Armagnacs. That, however, is a matter which touches history; the root of our concernment is that, when the Queen and the Duke rode off to attend to this butcher's business, the Lady Katharine was left behind in the Convent of Saint Scholastica, which then stood upon the outskirts of Chartres, in the bend of the Eure just south of that city. She dwelt for a year in this well-ordered place.

      There one finds her upon the day of the decollation of Saint John the Baptist, the fine August morning that starts the tale. Katharine the Fair, men called her, with considerable show of reason. She was very tall, and slim as a rush. Her eyes were large and black, having an extreme lustre, like the gleam of undried ink,--a lustre at some times uncanny. Her abundant hair, too, was black, and to-day seemed doubly sombre by contrast with the gold netting which confined it. Her mouth was scarlet, all curves, and her complexion was famous for its brilliancy; only a precisian would have objected that she possessed the Valois nose, long and thin and somewhat unduly overhanging the mouth.

      To-day as she came through the orchard, crimson garbed, she paused with lifted eyebrows. Beyond the orchard wall there was a hodgepodge of noises, among which a nice ear might distinguish the clatter of hoofs,

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