AN EXCITING DAY AND EVENING
As the Lady Clotilde and her train were about to ride away the next
morning, Le Glorieux said to Antoine, "I think I will go back to the
shrine of Saint Roch. You may wait for me. It is only a little way and
we can soon overtake the others."
"But why do you wish to visit the shrine?" asked the boy.
"I want to say a little prayer for the gout."
"I never heard you complain of the gout."
"And small wonder, for I have not a sign of it."
"Then why do you want to pray to be cured of a malady which you never
had?"
"I am afraid that I may have it," said the fool. "Brittany is a very
rich country; the Duchess Anne is the greatest heiress in Christendom,
and of course there is to be found at her court everything that the
appetite craves, and some day all this may bring on the gout. There is
nothing like taking things in time, and it may be a good while before I
shall again be so near the good saint."
"Very well," said Antoine, "go, if you like, and I will wait by the
roadside for you."
[Illustration: Beseeching the saint]
So Le Glorieux rode back to the shrine, which was some half a mile out
of his way, and remained for a good while, for he remembered a number of
other maladies that might attack him in the future, and he thought it
was well to be on the safe side by beseeching the saint to keep them all
at a respectful distance.
Finishing his orisons at last, he rode forward with as brisk a pace as
Pittacus was willing to carry him, but to his surprise and indignation
Antoine was not waiting for him, nor was he able to overtake the others.
There was nothing to do, therefore, but to ride on alone to the city of
Rennes, where the court of Brittany was then staying, and where he hoped
to arrive before nightfall.
But Le Glorieux missed the company of his comrade, upon whom he resolved
to be revenged for thus leaving him in the lurch, and he rode along
turning over his wrongs in his mind with a mien far less gay than he was
wont to present.
He found as the day began to grow older and the clock of his appetite
pointed to the time to refresh himself, that the only meal obtainable
was a crust of black bread and a cup of goat's milk procured at a
peasant's hut along the way.
"I prayed to be defended from gout," reflected the fool, "but I hope
Saint Roch does not intend to keep the disease at bay by allowing me
only coarse, plain food. Would it not be a terrible thing if he should
put it into the Lady Anne's mind that feeding a jester well spoils his
wit?"
As the afternoon was warm, Le Glorieux said, "Pandora, you look sleepy;
Pittacus, I am sure that you need a little rest, while I am drowsy. I
will just take a small nap under this tree."
So, after securing the donkey to the tree, and allowing Pandora to perch
on his saddle, with her cord attached to a ring at the back of it, Le
Glorieux stretched himself on the ground, and soon was asleep.
A very sound sleeper, he remained wrapped in the unconsciousness of
slumber until the sun was seeking his bed in the west, when he woke
suddenly with a start, thinking that Antoine was calling him to get up
in the morning. First rubbing his eyes to get the sleep out of them, the
jester began to look around for his donkey, for, greatly to his surprise
and dismay, Pittacus no longer stood where his master had tied him, both
steed and hawk having vanished as completely as if the earth had
swallowed them up. And still worse was to come, for a silk purse worn at
his belt, which contained all of his worldly wealth, had disappeared
with his other property.
"Robbed!" groaned Le Glorieux, sinking to the ground and clasping his
hands convulsively about his knees. "On a strange soil, afoot, and
without a coin to bless myself with. Sometimes I begin to think that I
am growing wise, and then it is borne in upon me that I am nothing but a
fool after all, for what man in his senses would sleep beside the road
in broad daylight, with all his possessions unguarded?"
He made up his mind that he had been the victim of a highwayman, which
was the natural conclusion at which to arrive, though, strange to say,
his sword had not been taken, and his pistol, which he had placed on the
ground beside him, was still where he had left it.
"A coward," thought the fool, "to rob a man in his sleep, and not a bray
from Pittacus, not a scream from Pandora, to give me warning! How kind I
have been to those brutes, and they go with a stranger as cheerfully as
if they were not leaving their best friend."
He remained for some time bewailing his ill-luck, and then, reminded by
the lateness of the hour that it was necessary to resume his journey, he
set out disconsolately on foot.
After walking a short distance Le Glorieux beheld something, the sight
of which amazed him quite as much as the discovery of the robbery had
done, and made him wonder if he were still dreaming. Secured to a tree
and contentedly munching a bunch of thistles which happily were within
the range allowed by the length of his halter, was Pittacus! "But
Pandora?" cried the jester, for the bird was not tied to the saddle and
he feared that she had flown away.
A faint tinkle of bells called his attention to the tree, and there,
tied to a limb, was Pandora, who seemed to be guarding her master's
purse, which was fastened to a twig beneath her.
Le Glorieux stared with astonishment at finding his belongings in this
strange manner. That any one should have taken, and repenting have
returned them, he could not believe, and there was but one explanation
of the occurrence that seemed at all reasonable.
It was an age in which witches, fairies, and all sorts of supernatural
beings were believed to exist, and the fool had no doubt that a witch
had played this trick upon him. She would not need a donkey, for
everybody knew that when a witch wished to change her usual mode of
traveling, she could in the twinkling of an eye turn a bundle of faggots
into a horse, which would do very well until she wished to cross water,
when it would resume its original form. At any rate, Pittacus was no
sort of a mount for a witch, not being sufficiently swift for those
lively ladies. A witch could change almost anything into a hawk, so she
would not need Pandora, and as to his purse, what use would money be to
a creature who could have anything she wanted without the trouble of
paying for it? Yes, a witch had done this just from pure mischief and a
desire to meddle with something which did not in the least concern her.
Le Glorieux put his purse inside his doublet, determined that the next
person who took it from him, whether witch or highwayman, must fight to
get it. Then taking the bird on his wrist he said, "Pandora, you might,
yes, you might have given just one little shriek to let me know what was
going on. But why do I reproach you, when no doubt _she_ cast a spell
over you to keep you from making a sound?"
Then he remembered that with night coming on this was not a safe
locality in which to remain, for if witches could cut such capers in
broad daylight, what might they not do under cover of darkness, when
they are supposed to carry out their choicest and most fantastic
schemes? So he hurriedly mounted and sped along the road as rapidly as
the donkey could travel.
It was not a pleasant ride through the murky twilight and the gathering
gloom of the forest, which he now had entered. The limbs of a dead tree
seemed to be long gray arms reaching out to seize him, while to his
ears, strained to catch the slightest sound, the crackle of the leaves
in the breeze was the smothered laughter of certain ladies supposed to
ride on broomsticks, who were amusing themselves at the jester's
expense.
It was some time after dark when he saw a number of lights dotting the
gloom before him, and he knew that he was approaching Rennes. Greatly
cheered by the sight, he put spurs to Pittacus, and in a short time
arrived at the gates of the palace and galloped into the courtyard with
all the assurance of a guest who is expected.
As Le Glorieux dismounted a small figure came running out to meet him.
It was Antoine, who exclaimed, "Oh, Le Glorieux, how rejoiced I am that
you have arrived in safety!"
"If harm had befallen me I should have borne it alone," returned the
jester coldly, "as you did not wait for me as you promised to do."
"I--I--wanted to hurry," stammered the boy.
"Well, you _did_ hurry, and you were here long before me, and I hope you
are satisfied. Small difference does it make to you that those wretched
witches played me such a scurvy trick. They might have turned me into a
salamander for all you would have cared."
And without waiting for a reply the jester stalked away.
The various homes of the dukes of Brittany were sumptuous abodes, and
Francis the Second, the last of them, was a noble of great wealth who
spent his money freely, and was fond of beautifying his surroundings. Le
Glorieux walked through spacious apartments that were decorated, gilded,
and carved, and hung with richest tapestries, but he trod the polished
floors with the air of one who was perfectly at home in a palace, and
accustomed to luxurious surroundings. This was indeed the case, as he
had gone as a page to the court of Burgundy. He was so happy to be where
all was bright and cheerful and to have escaped from the dangers of the
forest, that he did not mind the severe scathing given him for his
tardiness by the Lady Clotilde.
The young Duchess of Brittany was in the long salon surrounded by the
ladies and gentlemen of her court. She was one of the most interesting
personages of Europe at that time, for, as has already been said, her
father's death had left her the richest heiress in Christendom, the
owner of a province that France had been trying by hook or by crook to
gain possession of for the last five hundred years; a young maiden whose
hand had already been sought by the heirs to the crowns of England,
France, Austria, and Spain, although she was but fifteen years of age.
The young readers of this story whose parents bear all their burdens for
them will find it difficult to understand the position of the little
duchess. Her father had idolized her and had stood between her and all
care, but at his death, three years before the time when we first meet
her, she found herself at the head of a government with many weighty
matters awaiting her decision, with a man she detested waiting to marry
her, with clever statesmen plotting against her, and great nations
threatening war. But now matters had taken a better turn; she had
refused to marry the detested man, France had withdrawn its troops from
Breton soil, and once more peace smiled upon the land.
The Lady Anne was tall for a girl of her age; she was very fair, and her
cheeks glowed with the bloom of health; her nose was straight, and when
she smiled her mouth was particularly attractive, the expression of her
face being always very pleasing. Her gown of soft dark silken material
was more simple than those worn by some of her ladies, and on her brown
hair she wore a kind of close cap made entirely of pearls.
"And you are Le Glorieux, sent by our cousin of Burgundy?" she said,
after the jester had made his obeisance.
"Yes, Cousin Anne. Her Grace of Burgundy wished to send you something
very precious, for she entertains a great amount of respect and love for
you. She had a big emerald which Uncle Philip had taken from a
Frenchman, who had taken it from a Spaniard, who had taken it from a
Moor, which she was going to send you, but she said, 'No, that is not my
most precious possession. The jewel of my heart is Le Glorieux, who
scintillates day and night; he shall be presented to the most beautiful
and the wisest of rulers.'"
The duchess laughed as she said, "Never did I expect to own so large a
jewel. Our cousin of Burgundy is most kind."
Passing the Lady Clotilde as he moved behind the chair of the duchess,
Le Glorieux whispered to the former, "At least we shall not be bored by
reminiscences here, for her Grace is too young to have had any past.
Cousin Clotilde, did you ever hear of the princess who kissed the
poet?"
The Lady Clotilde thought jokes a great waste of time, and she rarely
saw the point to one when she heard it, but now she actually smiled, an
act so unusual with this good lady that the jester afterward declared to
Antoine that the muscles of her face creaked, being rusty from disuse.
Time for the rich of the fifteenth century was divided quite differently
from what it is to-day. At dawn the watchman blew a horn to announce the
approach of day, after which the servants and retainers about the castle
began their serious duties, while the heads of the family dressed, said
their prayers, and attended mass in their own chapel.
At ten o'clock dinner was ready, and after remaining at table as long as
possible, the gentlemen adjourned to the courtyard to play tennis, a
game which is hundreds of years old. Supper was at four, after which the
lords and ladies of the manor were ready to be amused at whatever form
of divertisement that presented itself.
The duchess and her ladies had been playing at cards called "_tarots_,"
from their checkered backs, a game for which the Lady Anne, at least
to-night, did not seem to care, for she threw the cards about carelessly
and appeared to be thinking of something else.
She seemed to be relieved and to give a ready assent when a page
announced that there were certain performers below who craved the honor
of playing before her Grace, the Duchess of Brittany. Theaters as we
now have them were then unknown, and strolling players traveled over the
country doing their various tricks at inns or in the houses of the rich,
where they were paid according to the generosity of the audience. During
the day they performed in courtyards, but to-night they appeared in the
grand salon, the assembled company moving to one end of it to give
greater room.
First came a man with a performing monkey, whose antics excited roars of
laughter, followed by a _jongleuse_, or female juggler, who won a great
deal of admiration by her dexterity in whirling a little drum about on
the very tips of her fingers. Then came a man who could turn a number of
somersaults without touching his hands to the floor, which would seem to
have been a dangerous feat to attempt, for before each performance he
was careful to make the sign of the cross.
This ended the program of the players, and Le Glorieux, who had watched
them from his place on the floor, where, sprawling with his elbow
resting on a cushion, he was making himself as comfortable as possible,
was now anxious to have Antoine appear, for he knew that in his way the
boy was far more talented than any who had to-night performed before the
court. So, with the permission of the duchess, he went to fetch Antoine.
"Now, my young friend," said he, taking the boy by the ear, "I want you
to do us both credit. No choking and squeaking to-night, if you
please."
"You do not know what it is to be seized with a panic," retorted Antoine
sulkily. "Very easy it is for you, who have the impudence to flout
kings, to talk thus to one who is frightened of strangers."
"Fie!" exclaimed Le Glorieux. "Do not think of what the people think of
you; think of what you think of them, and you will have no trouble,"
which, although a sentence having a good many "thinks" in it, is not a
bad rule to follow when performing in public.
Antoine seemed to heed his friend's advice, for he began a lively air so
inspiring that the duchess kept time with her small fingers on the arm
of her chair, while Le Glorieux sprang up and danced in a series of
glides and whirls, with his fantastic figure reflected in the polished
floor.
A good while before the period of which I am telling you there were
trouveres and troubadours who used to compose songs while they were
singing them. Antoine, being a born musician, often did the same thing
when he was in the humor for it, and that, too with considerable
success.
He now began a weird little accompaniment suggesting the sighing of the
wind through the woods, and then followed the woeful tale of witches who
stole a knight's purse and horse and hawk, and later transformed the
knight himself into a dancing dervish who kept on whirling and whirling
for ever. There was a twinkle of mischief in the boy's eyes as he sang,
and although the company thrilled deliciously at the blood-curdling
passages, Le Glorieux knew quite well who was meant by the bewitched
knight.
When the song was finished the fool stalked forward and picked up the
singer by the back of the neck as a mother cat lifts her kittens. "I
understand it all now," said he. "Cousin Anne, I thought the witches had
played me a trick this afternoon, but it was this little villain, who
evidently skulked along behind me, awaiting his opportunity to do me
some mischief!"
"I am sure her Grace will not be interested in your private matters,"
said the Lady Clotilde coldly.
But the duchess was young enough to be interested in nonsense, and she
demanded the whole story, Antoine explaining his part of it by saying
that he had been waiting all day to be revenged upon his comrade because
the latter had insisted upon his singing at the inn on the previous
night. "But I did not know, your Highness, that he would sleep so long,
else I should not have gone away and left him there. I was very unhappy
about him when night came on and he had not yet arrived."
Just as Antoine had finished speaking, a servant came to announce the
coming of some of her Grace's soldiers, saying that the captain of her
troop desired an audience, which was granted at once.
An officer now entered, a dark-browed man with a somewhat forbidding
face, who, after bending the knee to the duchess and saluting the
company, began his story in the satisfied tone of one who feels that he
has been quick to see his duty and has done it rather better than most
people would have managed it in his place.
He said that he had stopped that morning at an inn for some
refreshments, and that the innkeeper had shown him a gold piece given
his child the night before by a little girl whose costume did not
warrant the gift, and that the latter had seemed so much superior in
station to the woman with whom she was traveling that he could not help
fearing that the child was being unlawfully conveyed away.
Later the officer and his men had overtaken the mysterious couple, and
after putting some questions the officer was convinced that the woman
had been sent to Brittany by the French, for she had become very much
confused when he questioned her, and implored him to allow her to go on
her way unmolested. Her words and manner excited his suspicions still
further, and without more ado he had taken them both prisoners, and had
brought them to the palace with him. The woman was a foreigner, she
said, but she acknowledged that she had lived for years in France, and
he did not hesitate to say that he believed her to be a spy.
The Lady Anne, so far from being gratified by this intelligence, looked
very much annoyed. "We are no longer at war with France," she said
coldly. "It would have been better to have believed the woman's account
of herself and let the two go on their way."
Considerably dismayed at thus being reproved where he had expected to be
commended, the officer could not forbear to reply that France had broken
her word with Brittany in the past, and who could tell but that she
might be planning some new piece of treachery?
"Let the prisoners appear before me," said the duchess, and after some
little delay the prisoners were brought in, and Le Glorieux and Antoine
beheld--as the former, at least, had suspected--the same woman and child
who had stopped at the inn on the previous night.
The woman was pale and frightened, and she sobbed bitterly as she knelt
at the feet of her Grace of Brittany. The child too was pale, but she
stood silent, with her small hands clasped before her, not offering to
kneel, as did her companion.
"Oh, gracious lady, give us permission to go on our way at dawn
to-morrow!" imploded the woman. "We have been brought out of our way by
your soldiers, and if we do not reach home soon I do not know what will
happen," and she concluded with another burst of tears.
"You should be German by your accent," said the duchess kindly. "Calm
yourself and tell me your name and why you have come to Brittany."
The woman hesitated, and the child said quietly, "Tell her Grace your
name; there is no reason why you should not do so."
"Cunegunda Leutner; I am an Austrian, your Grace," was the reply.
"Then she is a subject of your own, after all, Cousin Anne, since you
are to marry the Archduke of Austria, _Poco Danari_," interposed Le
Glorieux, who was not afraid to rush in where angels fear to tread.
The little duchess blushed crimson at this speech. Perhaps she was
annoyed to hear the name _Poco Danari_, which means poverty-stricken,
applied to her lover, and which had been given to Maximilian of Austria
because his rich old father was too stingy to allow him necessary funds.
Whatever the cause, she seemed about to administer a rebuke to the fool,
then controlling herself turned again to the woman.
"And the girl, is she your child?"
"No, your Grace, but I have cared for her from the day she was born."
"What brought you to Brittany?"
"For the reason I told your Grace's soldiers. I visited the shrine of
Saint Roch, the blessed saint whose fame for healing all maladies is
known far and wide."
"You do not look like an invalid," remarked the duchess, surveying the
stout figure and round face of the speaker.
"It is the migraine, your Grace, a pain which has troubled me day and
night, and which leeches tell me is liable to reach the heart. Oh, dear
and gracious lady, I should not care for myself; life is not so precious
that I should want to cling to it; it is for this little one that I want
to live, and for that reason I have taken this long journey to implore
the blessed saint to cure me, that my life may be spared until she no
longer needs me."
"Is the child an orphan?"
"Her mother is dead, your Grace. Her mother bade me always to be a
friend to her, and I promised."
"Her father is married to a woman who is unkind to her?"
"He--he--is about to be married, your Grace," stammered the woman.
"Cousin Anne," again interrupted the jester, "this woman is telling the
truth about the visit to the shrine of Saint Roch. I saw her and the
child going there this morning just as I was coming away after a long
prayer to be relieved of the gout, which I never have had, but which may
overtake me like a thief in the night."
Every one smiled at this remark save the duchess, who again turned to
the Austrian. "Why did you bring the child with you upon a journey
fraught with discomfort, if not with danger?"
"Because, your Grace, I have sworn never to leave her, and never a night
of her life has she slept without my first smoothing the coverlid over
her little body."
"What is her name? Who is she?"
The Austrian was silent a moment. "If it please your Grace, there are
reasons which forbid a reply to that question," she said slowly.
"But I insist upon a reply," said the Duchess Anne, with a touch of that
firmness which made her appear older than her years.
The prisoner bent her head still lower as she replied in tones of
emotion, "Gracious lady, so well beloved by your subjects, show us a
little of that kindness you vouchsafe to others. We ask no favor but to
be allowed to depart early to-morrow morning. It is _necessary_ for us
to go. I know not what will happen if we are longer delayed. Believe me,
I am speaking the truth."
"Truly," said the young duchess gently, "we each have a right to the
secret of our hearts." After a moment's reflection she said, "You shall
go within five days at most, and in a company that will insure your
protection. Until your departure you shall be made as comfortable as
possible, and you shall not leave my domains empty-handed. This much at
least I owe you for the discomfort you have suffered through my
overzealous soldiers."
To remain as a guest in this splendid abode, and to receive a sum of
money at the end of the visit, to say nothing of a safe conduct home,
would not by most people be considered a hardship, but the woman
looked as if she had received a blow. "Oh, lady," she moaned, "your
Grace means to be kind, but let us go to-morrow. Not an hour longer must
we wait. Even now our absence may be discovered."
"Discovered?" said the Lady Anne. "Why should a pious journey require so
much secrecy? But guard your secret if you like. You shall depart within
five days, as I have said; it may be a little earlier; it will not be
longer than that time."
"Alas," cried the woman, turning wildly to the child and seeming to
forget all caution, "what will _she_ say when she finds that we are
away? Cold and revengeful as her father, she may send me to my death!"
"Of whom are you speaking?" asked the duchess wonderingly. "Who has the
power to punish so severely a pilgrimage to the shrine of Saint Roch?"
[Illustration: "I am Marguerite of Hapsburg!"]
Overcome by her emotion, the woman made no reply, but the child now
stepped forward and said in a voice that all might hear, "The Duchess of
Brittany has no right to keep me here against my will! I shall depart
when I please. My rank is higher than yours. You ask my name? You shall
know it, happen what will. I am the granddaughter of an emperor; I am
the future Queen of France. _I am Marguerite of Hapsburg!_"
An earthquake shaking the palace from turret to donjon keep would not
have caused a greater degree of surprise, for there was something in
the manner, the tone, and the expression of the child that left no room
for doubt. Her exquisitely-poised head was thrown proudly back, and
though her full red lips quivered slightly, her eyes were dry and
bright.
Strange to say, the fool of the company was the first to gain his
self-possession. With a swift, gliding step he advanced toward the
little lady, and kneeling he pressed her hand to his lips. "Mary's
little child!" he exclaimed with a half sob.
"You said last night that you would give a year of your life to see the
daughter of Mary of Burgundy, and now your wish is granted for naught,"
said Marguerite, smiling.
The Lady Anne now came forward, and clasping the princess in her arms
kissed her on both cheeks. "The little lady whom of all others I have
most desired to see!" she said. "Happily sheltered in the arms of my own
dear father I heard of you, a tiny child away from your parents and in a
strange country. And once I sent you a doll. I dare say you have
forgotten it," she went on, half laughing. "It was a fashion model that
had been sent to my grandmother, who was going to live at the court of
France in the time of Charles the Seventh, and it was one of my dearest
possessions. It wore a high pointed cap with a long flowing veil, and it
had long pointed shoes."
"It must have looked like the old Duchess of Burgundy," remarked Le
Glorieux, who was again his old impudent self. "Did it talk of the
princess who kissed the poet, Cousin Anne?"
"It was dressed in the mode of the princess who kissed the poet," she
returned, laughing. "Do you remember it, Lady Marguerite?"
"Yes, Lady Anne, and I have it still. Since the day you sent it I always
have remembered you in my prayers. With it came a little chain set with
pearls, but I liked the doll best."
Just here the jester began to laugh immoderately, slapping his knees and
stamping at the same time, while every one else smiled in sympathy.
"What do you find so very amusing, Fool?" asked the Lady Anne.
He replied, "Some things that happen in royal families are so very funny
that they would make Pandora, my hawk, laugh, though she is such a sulky
little brute. Once explained to Pittacus, my donkey, and he would smile
until every tooth in his head could be seen. You asked if this child's
father was married to a woman who was unkind to her, and her nurse said
he was about to be married. And you, Cousin Anne, ha! ha! you are to be
the cruel stepmother!"
There was no denying the fact that the Lady Anne was about to be the
stepmother of the Lady Marguerite, for Maximilian, who was still young
and handsome, was shortly to marry the young Duchess of Brittany.
But again the duchess seemed to be embarrassed, and she turned her back
to Le Glorieux as she said, "My dear Lady Marguerite, I will not keep
you here a moment when you must be overcome with fatigue. I will send
you to your apartments, where supper shall be served you, and then when
you have retired and are resting I will come and talk to you, if I may."
The princess, so far from being conducted to the plain but comfortable
quarters which would have been hers had her identity remained a secret,
was now shown all the deference accorded a person of rank. Pages, maids,
and even ladies of high degree, rushed about to make her comfortable, a
delicious supper was served, and she lay down to rest beneath the
gold-embroidered canopy of a couch even more sumptuous than her own bed
in the palace of Amboise.
Cunegunda, who had been given a room next to that of her young mistress,
after smoothing the silken coverlid over her young charge, satisfied
that nothing dreadful was going to happen to-night, at least, had
retired, and was sleeping the sleep of the fatigued when the Lady Anne
entered the apartment of her young guest.
The duchess had changed her gown for a long robe of dark blue silk
trimmed in fur, with a little cap of the same, and in this plainer garb
she seemed younger and less stately than in the earlier part of the
evening.
The princess, with her bright hair flowing over the cushions against
which she leaned, seemed pathetically young, and it is a singular fact
that about these two children revolved the most important events in the
history of Europe at that time, events which drove great statesmen to
their wits' end, and changed the map of France for all time.
[Illustration: "And now tell me all about it"]
Sitting on the edge of the bed the Lady Anne took the hand Marguerite
stretched out to her, and stroking it gently, said simply, "And now tell
me all about it. I long to know why France so lightly guards a princess
intrusted to her keeping."
"It was as Cunegunda told you," was the reply. "She was suffering and
the leeches frightened her. She always has been my nurse. When I was a
baby, and, by the desire of our subjects, was sent with my brother to
live in Flanders, my beautiful young mother--whom I can not
remember--made Cunegunda promise never to leave me, for she knew that my
nurse loved me, and love can not be bought. My mother, as you know, was
killed when hunting, but Cunegunda never forgot her promise. She came to
France with me, and though there are with me Lady Ravenstein and others
of my father's court, I feel that none of them is so fond of me as she,
for I know that if necessary she would give her life for mine. Anne of
Beaujeu, Duchess of Bourbon and sister to the king, is like King Louis,
her father, and she would not scruple to take a cruel revenge should
she feel so inclined. We both dislike her very much, and that is why we
are anxious to return before she hears of our absence."
"Did no one know that you had left the palace of Amboise?" asked the
duchess.
"Only a few of the servants, who were bribed to keep silence. The
Duchess of Bourbon lately has been away, and I have seen but little of
her. Some of the other ladies have been ill, and one of them is about to
be married. Cunegunda gave it out that I had been attacked by some
contagious childish malady, I do not know what, and this kept them away
from my apartments, and we stole out early one morning and mounting our
mules came away."
"Were you not afraid to go on a journey without any one of authority in
your train, and with no one to guard you from highwaymen?"
"No, Lady Anne. Cunegunda loves me, you know, and she was better than
any one of rank. She made a little stuff gown for me, and she said that
traveling alone and unattended we should attract no attention, and could
go on our way unmolested.
"I have been quite happy during the trip, for it was all so new and so
strange to me, and it was so pleasant not to be surrounded by people who
were always watching me. But it was my fault that we excited suspicion.
I went down to the inn kitchen to see what the common people do when
they are having a festival, and I felt that I must give a gold piece
to the baby who had been named Mary in memory of my dear mother. It
appears that ordinary people do not give away so much money, and that is
what made the company at the inn suspicious."
"And no wonder, you innocent little girl," returned the Lady Anne,
smiling. "A person of the station represented by your dress would have
given, if anything, just the smallest piece of silver which is fastened
to a bit of leather to keep it from being lost."
"I am afraid," went on the princess, "of the consequences of our trip to
Cunegunda if our absence should be discovered, and as we have been away
longer than we had planned, I fear that even those who were bribed to
keep silence will think that something has happened to us, and will feel
it their duty to report our absence. Cunegunda is afraid of this, and
she is terrified when she thinks of Anne of Beaujeu. But as we shall go
to-morrow morning, perhaps we shall be in Amboise before we have been
missed."
"Indeed, you are not going to-morrow morning, my dear little sister and
cousin," said Anne, using the term employed by royalties when addressing
each other.
"Then I am afraid that we shall have a great deal of trouble when we do
return," said the princess coldly. "Of course we can not help ourselves;
we must remain here if you command it, but I can not see how if will
benefit you to make us stay against our will. I had hoped that it would
be different when you had been told who you were detaining; I am sorry
now that I revealed our secret."
She turned her head slightly, and a tear rolled over her temple and
dropped into the meshes of her bright hair.
The duchess thrust her arm under the child's head, and clasping her
affectionately said, "Do you think, foolish little one, that I am
keeping you here for spite? Within a few days you shall set out for
Amboise with an escort that even a queen would not disdain."
"It would avail us nothing to return in royal style if we were to be
punished sorely at the end of the journey," returned Marguerite dryly.
"You shall not be punished. I already have sent a messenger to the King
of France explaining your absence, stating that you are in my keeping,
and that you will return in safety."
"The King? Oh, the King would not care. But it is not he who rules
France at present; it is his sister, Anne of Beaujeu."
"Let it be Anne of Beaujeu, then," cried the young duchess. "I promise
that not one of your golden hairs shall be touched, and that your
faithful nurse shall not be harmed in the least."
She rose as she spoke and looked down upon her guest with a proud smile.
"France will hardly refuse a request made just now by Anne of
Brittany," she said.
"I feel that you will do what you promise, though I do not quite
understand," returned Marguerite with a sigh of relief.
For a few moments Anne remained silent, playing with the gilt cords that
looped back the curtains of the bed. Then she said, "You evidently do
not know that since our recent conflict with France a treaty has been
signed whereby I am allowed safe conduct to join the King of the Romans,
your father, in Austria. I may sail from St. Malo or go through France,
as I choose. I shall take the latter route, and you and your attendant
shall go with my suite to the nearest point to Amboise, where you can
travel the remainder of the way in safety. Even before I knew your rank
I did not like to think of a dainty little creature like you traveling
over the country with none to guard you but a woman of the people, and I
was going to let you make the journey under my protection. But now you
shall ride by my side on the prettiest palfrey in my stables, or in one
of my litters if you prefer it." And she gave Marguerite a light kiss on
the brow.
"Oh, I am so glad that you are going to marry my father!" cried the
princess, with sparkling eyes. "He sent me his portrait by the Austrian
ambassador, and he is as beautiful as a knight of the Holy Grail. If I
were not the heiress of Burgundy and Flanders, but only a little
peasant girl, I could live under my father's roof as other children do.
But this happiness is not to be granted me, for it is arranged that I am
to be Queen of France."
"Those in whose veins courses royal blood may not do as their hearts
dictate," said Anne thoughtfully. "But let us talk no more to-night, for
it is time for those bright eyes to be closed in sleep."
The two girls embraced affectionately; then the duchess left the room.