She breathed, "Yes."

So for a long time they stood looking at each other. She found

adoration in his eyes and quailed before it; and in the man's mind not

a grimy and mean incident of the past but marshalled to leer at his

unworthiness: yet in that primitive garden the first man and woman,

meeting, knew no sweeter terror.

It was by the minstrel that a familiar earth and the grating speech of

earth were earlier regained. "The affair is of the suddenest," Alain

observed, and he now swung the lute behind him. He indicated no

intention of touching her, though he might easily have done so as he

sat there exalted by the height of his horse. "A meteor arrives with

more prelude. But Love is an arbitrary lord; desiring my heart, he has

seized it, and accordingly I would now brave hell to come to you, and

finding you there, would esteem hell a pleasure-garden. I have already

made my prayer to Destiny that she concede me love. Now of God, our

Father and Master, I entreat quick death if I am not to win you. For,

God willing, I shall come to you again, even if in order to do this I

have to split the world like a rotten orange."

"Madness! Oh, brave, sweet madness!" Katharine said. "You are a

minstrel and I am a king's daughter."

"Is it madness? Why, then, I think sane persons are to be

commiserated. And indeed I spy in all this some design. Across half

the earth I came to you, led by a fox. Hey, God's face!" Alain swore;

"the foxes which Samson, that old sinewy captain, loosed among the

corn of heathenry kindled no disputation such as this fox has set

afoot. That was an affair of standing corn and olives spoilt, a bushel

or so of disaster; now poised kingdoms topple on the brink of ruin.

There will be martial argument shortly if you bid me come again."

"I bid you come," said Katharine; and after they had stared at each

other for a long while, he rode away in silence. It was through a dank

and tear-flawed world that she stumbled conventward, while out of the

east the sun came bathed in mists, a watery sun no brighter than a

silver coin.

And for a month the world seemed no less dreary, but about Michaelmas

the Queen-Regent sent for her. At the Hôtel de Saint-Pol matters were

much the same. Katharine found her mother in foul-mouthed rage over

the failure of a third attempt to poison the Dauphin of Vienne, as

Queen Isabeau had previously poisoned her two elder sons; I might here

trace out a curious similitude between the Valois and that

dragon-spawned race which Jason very anciently slew at Colchis, since

the world was never at peace so long as any two of them existed. But

King Charles greeted his daughter with ampler deference, esteeming her

to be the wife of Presbyter John, the tyrant of Aethiopia. However,

ingenuity had just suggested card-playing for King Charles' amusement,

and he paid little attention nowadays to any one save his opponent at

this new game.

So the French King chirped his senile jests over the card-table, while

the King of England was besieging the French city of Rouen sedulously

and without mercy. In late autumn an armament from Ireland joined

Henry's forces. The Irish fought naked, it was said, with long knives.

Katharine heard discreditable tales of these Irish, and reflected how

gross are the exaggerations of rumor.

In the year of grace 1419, in January, the burgesses of Rouen, having

consumed their horses, and finding frogs and rats unpalatable, yielded

the town. It was the Queen-Regent who brought the news to Katharine.

"God is asleep," the Queen said; "and while He nods, the Butcher of

Agincourt has stolen our good city of Rouen." She sat down and

breathed heavily. "Never was any poor woman so pestered as I! The

puddings to-day were quite uneatable, as you saw for yourself, and on

Sunday the Englishman entered Rouen in great splendor, attended by his

chief nobles; but the Butcher rode alone, and before him went a page

carrying a fox-brush on the point of his lance. I put it to you, is

that the contrivance of a sane man? Euh! euh!" Dame Isabeau squealed

on a sudden; "you are bruising me."

Katharine had gripped her by the shoulder. "The King of England--a

tall, fair man? with big teeth? a tiny wen upon his neck--here--and

with his left cheek scarred? with blue eyes, very bright, bright as

tapers?" She poured out her questions in a torrent, and awaited the

answer, seeming not to breathe at all.

"I believe so," the Queen said, "and they say, too, that he has the

damned squint of old Manuel the Redeemer."

"O God!" said Katharine.

"Ay, our only hope now. And may God show him no more mercy than has

this misbegotten English butcher shown us!" the good lady desired,

with fervor. "The hog, having won our Normandy, is now advancing on

Paris itself. He repudiated the Aragonish alliance last August; and

until last August he was content with Normandy, they tell us, but now

he swears to win all France. The man is a madman, and Scythian

Tamburlaine was more lenient. And I do not believe that in all France

there is a cook who understands his business." She went away

whimpering, and proceeded to get tipsy.

The Princess remained quite still, as Dame Isabeau had left her; you

may see a hare crouch so at sight of the hounds. Finally the girl

spoke aloud. "Until last August!" Katharine said. "Until last August!

_Poised kingdoms topple on the brink of ruin, now that you bid me come

to you again_. And I bade this devil's grandson come to me, as my

lover!" Presently she went into her oratory and began to pray.

In the midst of her invocation she wailed: "Fool, fool! How could I

have thought him less than a king!"

You are to imagine her breast thus adrum with remorse and hatred of

herself, the while that town by town fell before the invader like

card-houses. Every rumor of defeat--and the news of some fresh defeat

came daily--was her arraignment; impotently she cowered at God's

knees, knowing herself a murderess, whose infamy was still afoot,

outpacing her prayers, whose victims were battalions. Tarpeia and

Pisidicé and Rahab were her sisters; she hungered in her abasement for

Judith's nobler guilt.

In May he came to her. A truce was patched up, and French and English

met amicably in a great plain near Meulan. A square space was staked

out and on three sides boarded in, the fourth side being the river

Seine. This enclosure the Queen-Regent, Jehan of Burgundy, and

Katharine entered from the French side. Simultaneously the English

King appeared, accompanied by his brothers the Dukes of Clarence and

Gloucester, and followed by the Earl of Warwick. Katharine raised her

eyes with I know not what lingering hope; but it was he, a young Zeus

now, triumphant and uneager. In his helmet in place of a plume he wore

a fox-brush spangled with jewels.

These six entered the tent pitched for the conference--the hanging of

blue velvet embroidered with fleurs-de-lys of gold blurred before the

girl's eyes,--and there the Earl of Warwick embarked upon a sea of

rhetoric. His French was indifferent, his periods were interminable,

and his demands exorbitant; in brief, the King of England wanted

Katharine and most of France, with a reversion at the French King's

death of the entire kingdom. Meanwhile Sire Henry sat in silence, his

eyes glowing.

"I have come," he said, under cover of Warwick's oratory--"I have come

again, my lady."

Katharine's gaze flickered over him. "Liar!" she said, very softly.

"Has God no thunders remaining in His armory that this vile thief

still goes unblasted? Would you steal love as well as kingdoms?"

Chivalry: Dizain des Reines · 第 74 / 79 题