A PLEASANT SURPRISE FOR THE PRINCESS
On his way to bed Le Glorieux remembered that he had not seen Philibert
during the whole evening, and passing the boy's room, he pushed open the
door and looked in. The apartment was bathed in moonlight; its occupant
lay on his couch wrapped in the unconsciousness of slumber. In contrast
with the dark stuff of the cushion against which his cheek was pressed,
his features were like those of a beautiful Greek god carved in cameo.
As his visitor bent over him the boy woke with a start, exclaiming, "Oh,
you frightened me, Le Glorieux! With those long points standing out on
either side of your head you make a strange figure against the light,
and I thought it was the Evil One with his long horns."
"If the Evil One makes a practice of calling upon people who have the
cold and unfeeling nature of a carp, you will not escape a visit from
him, I can tell you, my young friend," responded Le Glorieux sourly.
"What do you mean?" asked Philibert.
"What do I mean, indeed! Has it escaped your memory that your cousin
Clotilde this very morning accused a pretty maid of stealing a
moonstone, a winking, blinking face, and which----"
"Of course it has not escaped my memory, and what then?"
"What then indeed! Perhaps that same fine memory of yours will recall
the fact that the whole matter was left to Saint Monica to decide?"
"I also remember that fact."
"And still you were not with us when we visited the good saint. You did
not take the trouble to join the spectators."
"No."
"When everybody about the place, from my own princess down to the lowest
scullion, was anxious to know what the saint would decide, you went to
bed and slept through it all like an old man of ninety. I should like
very much to know what kind of blood fills the veins of the people of
Savoy!"
"Very warm and generous blood, I can assure you, my good fool."
"Then the supply must have been running very low when you were created,
my little gentleman, and it was necessary to weaken it with a good deal
of water."
Philibert, who had risen to a sitting posture, laughed and once more
cuddled among his cushions. "Listen," said he. "The great clock in the
tower is clanging the hour of twelve. It is the time when witches come
forth and play their tricks. Be careful as you pass along the corridor
lest one of them should mistake you for her elder brother and snatch at
your long horns."
"They will have more business with you than with me, fair youth. Has any
one been to tell you what Saint Monica replied? Did you not at least
arrange with one of the servants to bring you the news?"
"No."
"And you have not enough interest in the matter even to ask me what was
the result!"
"What did the saint do?" asked the boy, clasping his hands under his
head and regarding the indignant jester.
"I have as good a mind as I ever had to swallow a bite to eat to let you
wait until morning to find out."
"Considering, as you say, that I have no curiosity about the matter, do
you think that would greatly disturb me?" asked Philibert. "But come, my
good fellow," he added good-naturedly, "do not be angry with me. Perhaps
I am overfond of my bed, and this couch is soft with the down of many
fowls. Tell me what reply was made by Saint Monica."
"She came to life!" replied Le Glorieux, in a tone of awe, as he
recalled the remarkable scene he had witnessed. "It is a great pity that
she stood so much in shadow that we could not see her more plainly, but
from the moment I beheld her I could see a palpitation as of life
beneath her raiment."
"Could you see her face distinctly?"
"No, you know it is shaded by her coif. And all say that even before
they saw her move they are quite certain that her head was not in quite
the same pose as usual, so she must have moved even before we saw her."
"Are you very sure that you saw her move?" asked the boy.
"Am I sure! Am I sure that I am talking to you at this moment? We all
saw her move; she bowed her head and raised her hand, and the cause of
the girl has been vindicated. She is going to marry the miller's son,
and my little princess has just given her gold enough to make a dowry
beyond her wildest dreams."
"Did the Lady Marguerite do so?" cried the boy, showing interest and
enthusiasm for the first time. "It is like her! She is just and
generous, she is an angel."
"No, I could not call her an angel exactly," replied the jester, "for I
have seen her eyes flash with anger more than once, though always in a
good cause. Our little lady is not without her bit of temper."
"Le Glorieux," asked Philibert earnestly, "have you ever seen an opal?"
"Yes, the old Duchess of Burgundy wore one on her thumb. It is a stone
with a red light that rolls about over a green surface."
"Well, it would not be so pretty without the red flame, and the
princess would not be so perfect without her temper."
"A temper," said the jester, "is a good thing when it is only allowed to
come out once in a great while, and that only in a good cause, but as a
rule it should be kept under lock and key lest it should work
destruction. But I must say good night, else the first streaks of dawn
will find me on the outside of my bed, which to a man with my talent for
sleeping would be a calamity."
If any one had thought to compare the Lady Clotilde to an opal that
night, he would have said that the red flame had absorbed the whole of
the stone. She was in a most captious state of mind, boxing the ears of
her tiring-woman and scolding everybody within reach. The maid's
innocence had been proven, but what good did this do the Lady Clotilde?
The pendant was still missing. The whole household was rejoicing, just
as if her jewel had been restored at the same time, when its loss was as
great a mystery as ever!
[Illustration: "I could not sleep a wink without my devotional reading"]
"Fetch my book to me," she said when her woman had finished her other
duties. "You were about to forget it when you know quite well that I
could not sleep a wink without my devotional reading."
The maid placed on a little table beside her mistress a little
Florentine lamp of silver that her lady always took with her when
traveling. Beside it she placed a book bound in blue silk, with clasps
and corners of silver. This volume was a treasure, for on the inside its
letters were crimson, outlined with pure gold, and it told of the lives
of the saints. But the Lady Clotilde's devotional reading was usually a
pretense. It was well to make others believe that she was too pious to
sleep until she had refreshed her mind with facts in the life of a
saint, but as a rule she went to sleep as soon as her head touched the
pillow, and though to-night she was too restless to be overcome by
slumber, the handsome book remained tightly clasped, with its gorgeous
lettering, done by the patient hand of a monk, still shut from view.
The next day it seemed to Le Glorieux that there was a whistling sound
of whispering all over the castle; maids and pages, with their heads
close together in the corridors, would fly apart at his approach and
assume an air of great unconcern, while a group of ladies in the corners
talking all at once, as of something of vital interest, would close
their lips tightly when they saw him coming, and one of the gentlemen
actually said "Hush!" to the others when Le Glorieux suddenly appeared
among them.
"Do you know why everybody is whispering and making themselves look like
owls, little Cousin?" he asked the princess.
"They do not whisper when I am present; I know nothing about it," she
returned. "I only know that in spite of the good cheer offered by our
kind host, I am praying that the time may fly on swiftest wings so that
I may soon see my father."
"Well, there is either a conspiracy on foot against me or else they are
planning a pleasant surprise for me."
"Your imagination is playing you a trick, my good fool. Why should they
be planning anything that concerns you?"
Cunegunda entered the room and, like almost every one else Le Glorieux
had noticed that day, she wore a beaming smile.
"I have been so accustomed to see you down in the dumps that your
present broad grin makes you seem like a stranger to me, Cunegunda,"
said he. "What is it that you know that makes you look like a beaming
saint?"
"What it is that I know, do you ask, Sir Fool? What should I know save
that the sky is blue and the air is crisp and clear?"
"The weather is a very good thing to be talked about by boobies who can
think of no other subject of conversation," he retorted, "but it has
never seemed to me to have a comical side, and there is nothing in it to
bring out that broad smile."
"I am not smiling," said she; "my countenance is simply relaxed."
"Then do not relax it any further, or who can tell what the consequences
may be?"
Still devoured with curiosity regarding the secret, which he was
confident was also being kept from the princess, the fool wandered to
the dining-hall, where a lively conversation was going on between the
seneschal and the housekeeper. These functionaries were elderly people
and both were very fat. They had been serving the count and countess
from their youth, and during all those years seemed to have been running
a race to see which would grow the stouter. The seneschal considered
himself the most important person in the castle; the housekeeper was
sure that the family would become extinct should she conclude to leave
its service. Probably most of us feel the same about our own
surroundings, but the chances are that the world will wag along just the
same when we shall have ceased to grace it with our presence.
Having nothing more entertaining on hand at the moment, the jester
paused and stood unseen in the shadow of the great chimney to hear what
they were saying.
"Oh, me!" said the housekeeper, "I have so much to do with
superintending those lazy maids and watching everything that goes on in
the kitchen that it is a wonder that I have a bone in my body."
"Nobody knows whether you have a bone; there are no signs of any,"
replied the seneschal, taking up a silver jug and beginning to polish it
with a great show of vigor.
"What are you doing?" asked the housekeeper sharply.
"I am polishing this jug; did you think I was playing the lute?"
"No doubt you consider that extremely funny," she retorted
contemptuously, "but let me tell you that for a man of your age to try
to be witty is like the frog trying to sing the notes of the
nightingale. Oh, me, I have so much to do that I actually do not know
where to begin! I wish that somebody would take as much interest in the
management of this place as I do. I do not know what my Lady would do if
I should drop out."
"You certainly would be missed," replied the seneschal.
She was greatly surprised at this reply from one who never would admit
that she was of any value to her employers. "I am glad that you can see
that I should be missed," said she, "and that at last you are coming to
your senses."
"It does not require any great amount of wisdom to make such a remark,"
he returned, surveying the jug with one eye closed, "since it would be
very singular if a person of your size would drop out of any place and
not be missed."
"There you go again, Mr. Frog! Perhaps the old emperor wants a jester to
cheer him up. Do you not think it would be a good plan to apply for the
position?"
"I do not know that I should care to do so, but at the same time I think
he might do worse than to employ me."
"Of all things in this world this is the most wonderful! Is there no
limit to your self-satisfaction?"
"If we are not satisfied with ourselves who will be satisfied with us?"
he asked. "I am sure that I could make myself fully as useful to his
Imperial Majesty as to my present master and mistress."
"And that is not saying a great deal," replied the housekeeper, with a
sniff.
"What do you mean? How could the place get on without me? Where is the
man in my position who does so much outside of his proper duties? When
they are starting to the hunt, who always watches them depart? I do. Who
always places the hawk on my lady's wrist? I do. Who else could do it to
her satisfaction? No one. I taste everything that comes to the table,
for no one else has so delicate a sense of taste or can so quickly
detect the absence of the right flavor. And then I keep my eye on all
the maids and pages to see that they do not idle away their time."
The housekeeper tossed her head scornfully. "As to placing the hawk on
my lady's wrist, I can see no great amount of labor in that. As to
'tasting' the food as you do, which consists of dipping an amount from
each dish, seasoning it well and eating it, I am sure there are plenty
who would be glad to take your place and consider it no hardship. I
notice too that you taste the wine which has been in the cellar for a
hundred years, and which our master already knows all about. Do you
consider that necessary?"
"Did you never hear, my good woman, of a poisonous drug being dropped
into a bottle by a scoundrel of a servant?"
"No servant of this house ever has tried to poison his master."
"That is true, but who knows when such a thing might happen? It is
always well to be prepared for the worst."
"Since you open the bottles yourself, none else has a chance to put in
the poison," she replied, determined to argue the question into shreds.
"Even supposing that no one had an opportunity with the bottles," said
the seneschal, "did you never hear of such a thing as chemical action?"
"No, and I want to know nothing of such Satan's work."
"Whether you know it or not, changes take place in liquids sometimes
that make them most dangerous, and who can tell what has been going on
in a pipe of wine that has had nothing to do for the last century but to
get into mischief?"
"It is very thoughtful of you to be so willing to sacrifice yourself,"
said the housekeeper, with all the sarcasm in her voice that she could
manage and be understood at the same time; "but do leave that jug alone!
It is my business to see to such things."
"I do not deny that statement, but until I took it up, this jug was as
dull as the sun behind a fog. Look at it now! A lady could see to
rouge her face by it."
"There is no difference in it to what it was before you touched it. But
I must go and look after the cook, for the supper to-night must be the
triumph of our lives. I hope that we shall not have to wait for our
guest, or the dishes may be spoiled."
"He will not mind; he was as gay and easy to please as a burgher when he
visited here before," said the seneschal; adding, "I wonder if they have
succeeded in keeping the secret from the Lady Marguerite?"
"Oh, yes; all understand that she is not to know."
"I am surprised," said the seneschal, "that a secret so important can be
kept by a lot of cackling women."
"Dame Cunegunda says her Highness, the princess, is all impatience to be
away," said the housekeeper, who scorned to make any reply to this last
taunt. "She will be almost out of her mind with delight when _he_
comes."
[Illustration: "Hush! we were told not even to mention his name"]
"Hush! we were told not even to mention his name, for the very walls
have ears when a secret is to be kept."
"I am not mentioning any names."
"The friar who stayed the night here," said the seneschal, "told me
something about _him_. The friar was at Ulm when he whom we expect was
at that city. The cathedral at Ulm has a very tall tower, and nearly
four hundred steps lead to the top of it. Well, he whom we expect
climbed to the top of the tower and stood on one leg on the top of it
and turned around! The friar said if any other man had attempted such a
feat he surely would have fallen and have been dashed to pieces. But he
whom we expect is as brave as a lion, and it was one of his pranks, for
he is gay and full of fun."
"How wonderful!" exclaimed the housekeeper, looking up from the silver
bowl she was polishing.
"Yes, indeed. And the friar said that while none could be more gracious,
none knows better than he how to keep upstarts in their places."
"Than the friar?" asked the housekeeper.
"No, Mrs. Stupid, than he whom we expect. The friar told how an
ambassador from the King of Denmark came. The ambassador was very high
and mighty. In his opinion no ruler was so good as the King of Denmark,
and out of respect to his own ruler the ambassador delivered the message
sitting. Then he whom we expect rose to his feet and remained standing
during the interview, and the ambassador was obliged to stand also from
very shame."
"I am glad that you are forced to acknowledge that something good can
come out of my country," said the housekeeper, who was an Austrian, and
ended her remarks with a chuckle of delight, for the seneschal was
Flemish.
"My friends," said Le Glorieux, coming forward and giving the worthy
couple a start of surprise as he did so, "as I understand the matter,
you are trying to keep a secret."
"Yes, Sir Fool, and we have not revealed it," replied the seneschal
proudly, saying, "How long have you been standing there?"
"Ever since you began to polish that jug. You were talking so loud that
I did not think you were saying anything that I could not hear as well
as not."
"And you heard nothing!" declared the housekeeper triumphantly. "You,
sir, were to be kept in the dark, lest in your merry way you should
reveal to the princess what she is not to know, and even though you have
been standing there all that time, you have heard nothing, for we have
mentioned no names."
"I have heard," said the jester, "of a bird found in Africa called the
ostrich. This very wise fowl when it wants to conceal itself hides its
head in the sand and leaves its big bulky body in plain view. You remind
me of this bird. You have mentioned no names, of course, but who is it
that the princess most desires to see? Maximilian. Who would be most
likely to climb to the top of a tower and turn around on one leg?
Maximilian. Who would make an impudent ambassador ashamed of himself?
Maximilian."
"Hist, sir! Pray hush," said the housekeeper. "That name must not be
mentioned, else it will reach the ears of her little Highness, the Lady
Marguerite."
"My little princess is in the other wing of the castle, and in order to
hear me she would have to have a sense of hearing sharper than any
chamois that ever leaped a chasm. And now that you see that I know all
about it, suppose you tell me how you know that the archduke, the King
of the Romans--in other words, Maximilian--is coming."
"A messenger arrived last night from Ghent to tell us. His Highness does
not want the princess to know of his coming; he wishes to see if she
will recognize him," said the housekeeper.
"And they wanted this secret kept from me? I do not deny being a fool,
for that is how I keep my position at court, but do they think that I am
a baby who forgets what it has seen last month? Did I not see Max when
he was married, and is it reasonable to suppose that I have entirely
forgotten how he looks? They might have known that it would be safer to
tell me all about it. If I had seen him coming I might have bawled,
'Little Princess, here comes your father!' and that would have spoiled
it all."
"I do not think they remembered that you had already seen him," said the
seneschal; "at any rate we were told to keep the secret from you."
"It is a great mistake to try to keep a secret from me," said the fool,
"for I always find things out. As well try to keep the presence of the
cheese a secret from the mouse, as to try to keep anything from me. And
since you have been telling stories about Max, I will tell you one that
I heard. One day when he was riding home from the chase, a beggar
accosted him. 'Please give me alms, your Highness,' said the beggar, who
was one of the whining kind; 'although I am of lowly birth, still we are
all brothers and should help each other.' Max handed him a penny,
saying, 'Take this, my good man, and if all your brothers give you as
much, you will be richer than I.' It may be that Max did not have much
money with him at the time; I am sure he did not if it was before his
marriage, for nearly all his wealth came from Burgundy and Flanders."
"Ha! ha!" laughed the seneschal, turning to the housekeeper. "Where
would your great King of the Romans be without my country? Even a king
with no money is of little consequence."
"Pray, pray, good Sir Fool," said the housekeeper, ignoring this remark,
"keep the secret from her Highness, and let no one know that you are
aware of the coming of the archduke. Our master would be seriously
displeased if he knew that we had revealed the fact that the royal
visitor is expected."
"Do not be alarmed," replied Le Glorieux; "I shall be as silent as an
owl in daytime, for I, too, want my little mistress to have the
pleasure of a surprise." The end of the sentence was almost drowned by
the striking of the clock, and the fool continued, raising his voice, "I
do not see why it is, but it seems to me that every time I want to say
anything that clock wants to strike at that particular minute!"
"Oh, it is late, it is late," cried the housekeeper, "and we must
hurry."
"True," said the seneschal, "let the table be spread at once."
Two boys came in to spread the table, and were soundly cuffed by the
seneschal because they put the plates on before the salt, there being a
superstition that bad luck was sure to follow unless the salt went on
first of all. Some people have an idea that the way to hurry things up
is to get into a temper, and this seemed to be the case with both the
seneschal and the housekeeper, who bustled about, interrupting each
other by the commands they gave the servants, one often countermanding
the orders of the other, until their underlings ran hither and thither
without knowing what to do. Le Glorieux, who made himself perfectly at
home all over the house, followed the pair to the kitchen and seated
himself comfortably on the lower step of a winding staircase, which led
somewhere to regions above, for the old castle was full of surprises,
and one was likely to find door, stairs, and halls where they were to be
least expected.
All was hurry and wild excitement in the kitchen. At the fireplace,
which was large enough to roast an ox, the cook was basting a number of
fowls; scullions were chopping spiced dressings, beating eggs, and
attending to various features of the coming repast, and everybody seemed
to be working in a great haste, for a few sharp words from the
housekeeper, seconded by the seneschal, had stirred the whole kitchen
into a flurry. "Here, baste these fowls," cried the cook, handing a
long-handled spoon to one of the scullions. "Can you not see that I
ought to be at work on the pastry? You stand at the other end of the
room staring at nothing at all when you know that I must need you here."
The cook was quite haughty while administering this reproof, and Le
Glorieux remarked:
"Everybody has some one to scold, from the seneschal on down, and I dare
say the scullions vent their ill temper on the dogs."
The boy who was beating the eggs stopped to laugh at this remark, for
which he received a swift cuff from the housekeeper, who said, "Do you
not know that one should never pause for even a moment when beating
eggs? You deserve a good drubbing for your heedlessness."
"She beats you and you beat the eggs," remarked Le Glorieux to the boy.
The scullion at the fire began to giggle at this piece of drollery, and
tilting his spoon spilled the gravy into the flames, which received it
with a great deal of sputtering, cracking, and snapping, and an
increase of blaze, which threatened to consume all the fowls, and which
put the cook into such a rage that he snatched the spoon and hit the boy
a crack over the head with it. "Take that for a blundering idiot!" cried
he. "From your indifference and carelessness one would think a supper
for royal visitors was prepared in this kitchen every day in the week!"
"And it is a good thing that it is not," said the jester, "for in that
case I am sure that funerals in this mansion would be frequent. But it
is my fault, no doubt. I am making myself too entertaining. I will go
now, first saying that if any of you boys should receive a broken skull,
I have a box of ointment in my room to which you are quite welcome, and
which will cure the wound and cause the hair to grow over it."
So saying he lounged out of the room and to the apartment of his little
mistress. Antoine was singing for her a tinkling melody, and the jester
began to sway about in time to the music. With mischief in his eyes,
Antoine kept singing faster and faster, which caused the jester to whirl
about like a top, while the little princess clapped her hands with
delight.
"Bravo!" said a voice, when the song was finished, and turning they saw
a man's figure standing in the doorway.
"Who are you, sir, that come in unannounced, and what do you wish?"
asked the Lady Marguerite, straightening herself up, for she was most
dignified at times and would permit no liberties. If his rank might be
judged by his costume, this newcomer was taking a great liberty, and the
princess continued to gaze at him with a haughty expression of
countenance, while he remained smiling, but silent. He was dressed in a
simple gray hunting costume, and the hat he held in his hand was
adorned, not by a curling plume, but by a feather from the wing of the
black eagle.
He was of a fine and graceful figure and a handsome face, and there
seemed to be a kind of mist in his eyes as he gazed at the frowning
little lady before him, and who said again and more curtly than before:
"Will you be kind enough to tell me what brings you here?"
"I bear a message from the archduke," he replied.
"Oh," cried Marguerite, and forgetting her dignity, she sprang from her
chair and advanced toward him. "Give me the letter; where is it? Why do
you wait so long?"
"I have no letter; it is a verbal message."
"Then what is it; can you not speak?"
"He bids you be patient for a while and rest."
"Rest! I have rested till I am weary of resting. If that is all you have
to tell me, you can return whence you came and ask the archduke, my
father, if all these years have made him forget that he should love his
daughter, and if he believes that she cares not at all for him?"
The little princess did not weep, as she was inclined to do in her
disappointment, but her cheeks were flushed and her lips quivered with
emotion.
For answer, the stranger strode into the room and, picking up the little
maiden bodily in his arms, he kissed her lips, her brow, her hair, and
her eyelids a dozen times, for he must have thought, as did Le Glorieux,
that her eyes were like those of Mary of Burgundy.
"Oh!" gasped the child, but she did not struggle, for she now realized
that this could be no other than her father, the Archduke of Austria.
"I had thought to have kept my identity a secret a little longer, but
the glance of those eyes overcame me, quite," murmured Maximilian, while
Le Glorieux whispered to Antoine, "Although I am a fool, there are
moments and places when and where I feel that my presence is not
absolutely necessary, and this is one of them. She will not blame us if
we go without her permission, and our room just now is better than our
company, so let us go." And unnoticed they slipped away.
Later when the jester saw the archduke he was clothed as became his
rank, in velvet trimmed in fur, while gems flashed in the chain about
his neck and on his fingers.
"My father," said the princess, who clung to his hand as if she feared
he suddenly would vanish from her sight, "this is my jester, Le
Glorieux. He once lived at the court of Burgundy. He loved my mother and
he loves me; he was given to me by the Lady Anne of Brittany."
"She took your husband and gave you her fool," replied the archduke.
"And who shall say it was not a good exchange?" asked Le Glorieux
quickly. "Some of the women who have married into the royal house of
France have secured both king and fool in one."
Maximilian laughed. "I see you have a ready wit," said he. "I now
remember to have observed you when I stood at the door of the princess'
apartments. Did you suspect who I was, Fool?"
"Not at first," was the reply. "Kings may have a divine right, but they
have not a divine look when clothed in common wool. You are a handsome
figure of a man, but so is many a forester, and even your daughter did
not recognize you until you had hugged her like a bear. But now you look
very much as you did when I saw you at Ghent."
"You saw me at Ghent?" repeated Maximilian.
"Oh, yes; I can not flatter myself that you saw my fair face, for it was
the day you wedded our Duchess of Burgundy; but I remember you for all
that, and I have described your appearance on that day a dozen times to
my little princess."
[Illustration: None was happier than Lady Clotilde]
Among the company of ladies and gentlemen who surrounded the
supper-table none was happier than the Lady Clotilde. She wore a
costume carefully copied from one she had seen worn by Anne of Beaujeu,
and which the tailor who had fashioned it before Lady Clotilde left
Amboise would remember to the last day of his life, from the severe
tongue lashings he received while he was putting it together. It was of
a heavy velvet, bordered to the knees in rich dark fur; about her neck
were strings and strings of pearls; a veil of silver tissue bound her
brow and hung down her back, while her hair, drawn into a mass on the
top of her head, was covered by a sparkling net and spread out on either
side like the wings of a butterfly.
"I should think that some of those pearls would get lost in the hollows
of Clotilde's neck," muttered Le Glorieux to himself. This reminded him
of the moonstone pendant and he wondered for the fiftieth time where it
could be. "I have no faith in those curses that were to follow on the
loss of the trinket," thought he. "If they had been genuine, something
would be happening to her by this time. And she is just as healthy as
ever; I watched her at the table, where she ate about four capon wings,
to say nothing of a quantity of roast kid and a good many other things.
But her luck always has been something wonderful, and a misfortune that
would come at full gallop after anybody else would pass Clotilde by and
forget all about her."
The subject of piety came up that evening; Maximilian, who was always
gay and fond of his joke, but nevertheless had great reverence for the
pious teaching he had received in his youth, said, "My instructors took
pains to impress upon me the fear of God, and they laid great stress
upon the commandments to believe in one God, to honor my father and
mother, and to do unto others as I would have others do to me."
The Lady Clotilde listened to him as one entranced. Maximilian, who was
very good-natured, had made one or two complimentary remarks to her, and
she was in high feather in consequence.
"All the world can see how well your Highness lives up to your religious
training," said she. "I, too, have had all the great truths so
thoroughly impressed upon my mind that I never in any circumstances
could forget them. I could no more go to sleep without my devotional
reading than I could exist without eating. If your Highness is
interested in handsome books, you would admire my _Lives of the Saints_,
which I read every night before I close my eyes in slumber. My royal
cousin, the Queen of France"--and the Lady Clotilde straightened herself
up at the mention of her relationship to so great a personage--"knowing
my passion for devotional reading, took from me my old book worn out
with constant perusal, and gave me another instead. It was printed by a
monk, with his own hands. My royal relative is very fond of such books."
That Queen Anne was fond of such books is shown by the beautiful Book
of Hours made by her order.
"I, too, am very fond of such books, especially of the kind you
mention," said the archduke, "and which I am afraid will go out of
existence now that the style of printing with movable letters has come
in."
And it may be said in passing that printing had been invented about
forty years before by John Gutenberg at Mayence.
"I should very much like to see the volume you mention," went on the
archduke.
The Lady Clotilde fluttered with delight at this request, for she was
very proud of the volume and would take great pleasure in exhibiting it
to the royal guest.
A servant was despatched to her room forthwith, and brought the book,
which was handed to the archduke. Maximilian examined the silk of the
binding, the chasing of the silver corners, and the clasps, upon which
were engraved the arms of Brittany, a country which might at this moment
have been his own had not fate played him an ugly trick. Then he
unclasped the volume to glance through its pages, and as he did so a
bright object slipped from its leaves and fell to the floor. Le Glorieux
sprang at once to pick it up, exclaiming as he did so, "Why, Cousin
Clotilde, it is your moonstone pendant!"
And then the Lady Clotilde remembered all about it. She had worn the
ornament the night before they left Amboise, and as the maid had
forgotten to put it with her other jewels, the lady had slipped it into
the book, the pendant being flat and the book clasping loosely. She
intended to have the case taken from her box where it had been packed
ready for the journey, and the jewel put in it as soon as her maid
entered the room. And she had forgotten all about the circumstance until
this very moment! People who pretend to be what they are not will be
discovered sooner or later, and the lady's chagrin was so great that for
the moment she was absolutely dumb.
"This is the trinket that caused all that commotion," said the fool. "No
wonder Saint Monica helped the girl out of the difficulty."
Of course Maximilian had heard the story of the accusation of Cimburga,
and of her miraculous vindication, and he had patted his little
daughter's head approvingly when told of the marriage portion she had
given the maid. "I am afraid," said he to Philibert, in order to cover
the lady's confusion, "that you are not a very attentive squire, else
you would have searched for and found the locket, thus saving all the
trouble that has followed its disappearance."
"Your Highness, I saw my cousin place it in the book," replied the boy
innocently, "but as I supposed she read it every night, I never thought
of looking for the jewel in its leaves."
The way in which events sometimes group themselves is very provoking,
not to say maddening. The Lady Clotilde had a fine little story all
fixed up in her mind as soon as the first moments of her amazement had
passed. She was going to say that the real thief had no doubt repented
and had restored her property that very day, knowing that she would find
it before she slept. But now Philibert must spoil it all by telling the
whole story, for she remembered that she had expatiated to him upon the
duty of reading elevating books, had opened this one and held it in her
lap, and, seeing the pendant on the table, had censured the carelessness
of her woman, and had clasped it in the book, where she said it was safe
for the present. She had bragged of her piety to the archduke, and here
she was exposed as one who not only had not looked into the volume for
more than a fortnight, but who had told a falsehood as well!
"It is truly a curious ornament," remarked the archduke, turning it so
that the light played upon the carved face of the moonstone.
"It is an heirloom of my mother's family, your Grace," returned its
owner in a constrained, half-hearted way.
"I have been watching for something to happen to you, Cousin Clotilde,"
said the jester, "and now you will glide along and be as comfortable as
the rest of us. After all, it is a good thing that you put the moonstone
in a book that you never open, for if you had found it right away, you
never would have accused Cimburga, and if you had not accused Cimburga,
she would never have received the purse of gold for her dower, and then
she never would have married Karl, for the prudent miller sooner or
later would have persuaded his son to marry the weaver's daughter. So
let us be thankful that you are not so pious as you think you are, and
that you put the pendant in a book where it would have remained for
months, perhaps years, if you had not wanted to show it to Cousin Max."
But the Lady Clotilde derived no comfort from the favor she incidentally
had done the maid. It never had entered her head that she owed the girl
some reparation for the fright she had caused her, and for the
humiliating position in which she had been placed, for the Lady Clotilde
did not own the kind of a head that would entertain such an idea.
The beds at the castle were most comfortable, being, as Philibert had
said, stuffed with the down of many fowls, and that of the Lady Clotilde
was hung with the richest brocade, but as she went to it boiling with
rage at Philibert, Le Glorieux, Cimburga, the countess, and everybody in
the remotest way connected with the moonstone, it was long before sweet
sleep visited her eyelids.
But the little princess closed her eyes with a smile, and soon sank into
pleasant dreams; she had seen her father, and he was all that her fancy
had painted him: he was affectionate, gay, and handsome. He had spoken
during the evening of his combats and she knew that he always had
vanquished his opponents. He was a true and brave knight, and happy
indeed was she in being the daughter of one so worthy and so favored by
fortune.