THE LADY MARGUERITE IS VERY BRAVE
The campaign in Italy at this time proved to be a failure, and the
emperor returned with his troops to Austria.
"I have always thought I should like to ride through the streets with a
laurel wreath on my brow and hear the people screeching with delight at
the very sight of me," said Le Glorieux, "but I always happen to be on
the other side when a victory is won."
Being sent to attend to some matters for his royal master, Philibert was
detained for a week in the Tyrol, and when he arrived at the palace in
Vienna the first person he met was one of his cousin's women, who told
him that her mistress wished to speak to him at once.
The Lady Clotilde had changed not at all during her stay in Austria, and
she received her young kinsman with a relaxation of her usual dignity
that surprised him. "My dear Philibert," she said, kissing him upon both
cheeks, "I congratulate you upon your improved prospects."
"My improved prospects? Has the emperor----"
"Oh, no, the emperor has nothing to do with what I am speaking of. Of
course, death is a terrible thing, but people must die, and even if we
wish they could be spared, it makes no difference."
"My dear cousin," said Philibert patiently, "will you not tell me who is
dead and why I should be congratulated?"
"Who should it be, you thoughtless boy, but the Duke of Savoy, and your
father was the heir to the title. You are the future Duke of Savoy! You
are a personage of importance!" and she kissed him again. "Think of what
a fine marriage you may now make!"
Philibert blushed at her words, but his eyes shone with a new light. "I
had not heard of our new dignity," he said. "I shall doubtless find a
letter when I go to my room."
"And, my dear boy, I have news of my own to tell you," went on the Lady
Clotilde, simpering. "I suppose I should have waited until your return,
and I should have notified my other relatives, but I always was so
romantic. Philibert, I have married again."
"_What!_" cried the young man, in amazement.
"I do not see why you are so surprised," she returned coldly. "You could
not seem more astonished if you had seen a ghost. Why should I not marry
if I feel so inclined?"
"Why not, indeed? I beg your pardon, Cousin. Who is the happy man?"
"It is the Spanish attache, Don Geronimo Bartolomeo Zurriago y
Escafusa," she returned, saying the long name with a good deal of pride.
"He owns an estate in his own country to which he would have returned
long ago if--well, if there had not been attractions at the court of
Austria."
"I hope you will be very happy, Cousin," said Philibert, excusing
himself as soon as it was possible, for he wanted to be alone and think
of all that his new dignity might bring to him.
Leaving the Lady Clotilde's apartment, he met Le Glorieux, who was
bubbling over with news. "So many things have happened, even in the week
since we returned," said the jester, "that it seems to me it will take a
week to repeat them. In the first place, Clotilde is married."
"So she has just informed me."
"When I heard it," went on the jester, "I was so surprised that it
almost made me ill. But the people who marry, and especially the other
people they select to marry, is a mystery I never could solve."
"The Lady Marguerite is well, I hope?" asked Philibert.
"Yes, and happy and fair as a flower, and her stepmother is still
high-tempered and fond of shellfish. But that is not news. First I will
begin with Antoine. He has distinguished himself greatly in the way of
singing, and the emperor has made him one of his own musicians. And the
rascal, who has grown wonderfully during the last few months, is almost
as tall as I am, and he is very proud of his new uniform. And next,
great doings have been going on in our negotiations with Spain! As I
remarked to you once before, if you will remember, our friend Manuel
works quietly, but he works hard."
"What do you mean?" asked the secretary, turning pale. "You do not mean
that she is going to Spain?"
"If you will not use names, of course I can not be expected to know
about whom you are talking," replied the fool. "But a certain 'she' is
coming from Spain. The Princess Juana is coming with a great fleet to be
the daughter-in-law of Maximilian and the wife of the Archduke Philip."
"You do not mean to tell me that all this has been planned in a week?"
asked Philibert, with a sigh of relief.
"No, it has been going on for some time, but we have only known about it
within the last week. You see, even his secretary does not see all the
letters Max receives and sends away. But there is still more to tell
you."
"What, more?" laughed his listener.
"Yes, and most important of all. Cunegunda has been crying her eyes
almost out."
"Do you call that news?"
"No, I do not know that I can call that part of it news. The very first
thing that woman did when she saw me was to burst into tears," went on
the jester in an injured tone. "I appeal to you, I appeal to any man, if
there is anything mournful in my appearance? If I went about clothed in
crape I could not have a sadder effect upon her than I do in my jester's
suit. She said she was crying because she was afraid something was going
to happen, and the next day when I saw her she cried because it had
happened. You see she had lost no time, but had begun to weep in good
season."
"I wonder if you have heard my news,--that my father has succeeded to
the dukedom of Savoy?" asked the other as the jester paused.
"Yes, I have heard it, my boy, and I congratulate you with all my
heart," said the fool hastily. "It is a fine inheritance, and one day
you will be Philibert the Second, Duke of Savoy. Accept my
felicitations."
"Thank you. And you see, Le Glorieux, there is quite a difference
between the heir of the Count de Bresse and the heir of the duke of a
wealthy province, and I feel that I can hope--well, I can hope for
almost anything."
"Hope," said the jester gravely, "is one of the finest things in this
world, and I wish we all had more of it. But you have not asked me what
made Cunegunda weep."
"No," said Philibert absently, as one whose mind is traveling far
afield; "what did make Cunegunda weep?"
"Because," replied the jester, "she has the narrowest mind of any woman
living."
"And she is only beginning to find it out?" asked the other, laughing.
"Oh, she has not found it out, and never will, though I have known it
from the beginning of our acquaintance. Now I ask you, why should not
Spain be a good country to live in? There are flowers and palaces and
oranges and bull-fights and everything to make a man or woman
comfortable, and there are plenty of new friends, I dare say, if one
cares to make them; still that woman is drowned in tears because she
must go there, as if it were purgatory."
"Why must she go to Spain if she does not care to do so?" asked
Philibert.
"Because she will not leave her young mistress," replied the fool
deliberately.
"You do not mean----"
"Yes, I do mean just that. As I have said before, Manuel has worked
hard, and the same fleet that brings the Spanish infanta to our shores
will take away our own little princess to be the bride of the young
Prince of the Asturias, only son of Ferdinand and Isabella, and heir to
the kingdoms of Castile, and Leon, and Aragon, and I can not tell how
many other countries. And I am going with her, and so is the weeping
Cunegunda, and a large suite of ladies and gentlemen." And thus
chattering, and without casting another glance at Philibert de Bresse,
heir to the dukedom of Savoy, the jester left the room.
The Lady Marguerite, who had grown still more fair to look upon during
his absence, received Philibert with a cordial greeting, and with a word
of congratulation upon his new dignity, as future ruler of Savoy.
He replied, "You are very kind, your Highness, but in a world full of
sorrow and disappointment, rank and wealth are of little account."
"You speak as mournfully as one who is about to become a monk," she
returned in a tone of surprise.
"Such a step on my part is not improbable, your Highness," was the
reply.
Some days later, the princess said to Le Glorieux, "Philibert de Bresse
has not been the same since his return from Italy. What spell was cast
over him in that country?"
"Almost any question can be solved," said the jester, with a wise look,
"if one will sit down and think it out quietly. I have wondered for a
long time why the climate of Austria has agreed so well with Clotilde,
and I find that it was all owing to Don Geronimo Bartolomeo Zurriago y
Escafusa. Is it not wonderful how well I recollect that name? And the
beauty of it is that once learned I shall never forget it."
"What has all that to do with Philibert de Bresse?" asked the princess.
"That has nothing to do with him, of course; I am simply leading up to
him. This is what I have figured out for Philibert. Of course he knows
that he must marry some time; few men can escape matrimony. When he was
plain future Count de Bresse he had a wider selection of ladies with
whom he might wed. Now that he is the future Duke of Savoy, there is a
smaller number from whom he may choose; for, though I never could see
the justice of it, there always is more milk than there is cream."
"He is very young to be thinking of such things," said Marguerite
coldly.
"When you come to age, he is no younger than your noble brother, who is
to wed the Princess Juana; or the young heir of Spain, who is to wed a
certain princess of my acquaintance, a lady not quite sixteen. Let us
suppose that Philibert had his mind fixed upon some maiden, who was in
his own rank when he was simply to be a count, then, suddenly, he pops
up into the circle of dukes, where he must look down upon her. It is
enough to make any man gloomy."
"Sometimes you talk in a very sensible manner, Le Glorieux," said the
Lady Marguerite, frowning, "but to-day you speak nothing but nonsense."
And she walked away with her head held high as was always the case when
she was out of temper.
Looking after her slender figure as it disappeared through an archway,
the jester muttered to himself, "Not to contradict a princess of the
blood royal, I want to say that I never was more sensible than I am at
this very moment."
* * * * *
One summer day a gallant armada set sail for the coast of Flanders. It
consisted of one hundred and thirty fine vessels, and it was manned by
hundreds of sailors; it carried the chivalry of Spain, and it was
commanded by the Admiral of Castile. Never had so beautiful a fleet
sailed from the Spanish coast, for it brought to Philip of Flanders, the
son of Maximilian, his bride, the Infanta Juana.
The people were eager to see the bride of their prince, but if they had
expected a beauty, they were disappointed. Juana was pale and delicate
in appearance, and, as a French writer of the time expresses it, "a
somber fire seemed to burn in her eyes."
"We shall send Spain a far handsomer bride than she sent to us," said Le
Glorieux exultantly.
The wedding of Philip and Juana took place in Lille with great pomp and
ceremony, and the fleet waited, for it was to take another royal bride
on its return trip! But many of the vessels needed repairs after their
stormy voyage, and it was some time before they were ready to sail.
Philibert de Bresse, in the meantime, had received news of the death of
his father; and, taking leave of his friends at court, he returned to
his own country, of which he was now the ruler.
A little princess saying farewell to her parents to go to a strange land
where she must remain as long as she lives, is one of the pathetic sides
of history; but Marguerite, although very sad at the thought of leaving
her adored father, endeavored to be resigned and even cheerful. Before
the day of her departure there came a messenger from Savoy with a little
packet for the princess. It contained a locket in which was set in
diamonds and emeralds an edelweiss, accompanied by the following words,
"The name of this flower signifies 'noble purity,' a fitting gift for
this fair daughter of the Hapsburgs."
After all Marguerite was little more than a child, and she could not but
look forward with pleasure to the coming voyage, since if one must leave
one's native land, it is good to sail away with a splendid fleet. But
Cunegunda was inclined to take a gloomy view of the coming journey.
"When you travel by land," said she, "you may be killed, of course, but
even in that case, you are there in plain view and can be seen; but if
you are drowned, why, where are you?"
"In the bottom of the sea, where you are every bit as comfortable as you
would be on land, if you were dead," said Le Glorieux.
"It is a very dangerous trip, and I weep whenever I think of it," said
the good woman.
"You weep when you do not think of it, so what difference does it make?"
asked the jester. Brutus, who now was full grown and a hound of
extraordinary intelligence, looked at Le Glorieux and wagged his tail,
as if fully approving of this sentiment. "It is true, is it not, my
friend Brutus, that Cunegunda never misses a chance to cry?" asked the
fool, patting the dog's head.
"I know something that will make you cry," said Cunegunda maliciously.
"You could not make me cry, my good lady," replied he. "Think of all for
which I have to be thankful: I am still young, I am handsome, I am going
to Spain, the land of bull-fights, flowers, and oranges. My little
princess is going to marry one of the finest princes of his time, and we
shall all be happy, even you, for wherever you are you can always find
something to cry about; and weeping is your favorite occupation."
"The Lady Clotilde is going to Spain with us," said Cunegunda slyly.
"You do not mean it!" exclaimed the jester, considerably dismayed.
"But I do mean it. You might have known that her husband would some time
take her to his native country."
"Yes, but not at this time," cried the fool excitedly. "Why must she go
on this particular voyage? Why is it always convenient for Clotilde to
start out just as I am going? She will miss some article that she owns,
and every ship will have to be searched for it. Is it not strange the
way things come about in this world?" he continued complainingly. "I
love that little rascal of an Antoine, and he is to remain here. I am
fond of Pandora and Pittacus, though they always treat me with cold
indifference, and they must be left behind; but Clotilde, whom I would
gladly spare, goes with me!"
With this double marriage Austria was making a precious gift to
Spain--she was giving the great possessions of the Hapsburgs, but the
fairest gift of all was the young princess, whose departure drew out a
great concourse of people. With flags flying and pennons waving, the
ships were waiting, the largest and the handsomest for the Lady
Marguerite and her suite. The picture of the princess that remained in
the memory of those who saw her on that day was a slight, graceful
figure standing where the sunlight shone full on her sweet young face,
and with one hand resting on the head of her hound.
Then the great fleet fluttered away like a flight of huge butterflies,
skimming southward.
"I do not see why I should feel so melancholy," said Le Glorieux, going
inside and sitting with his head on his hands and his elbows on his
knees. "Austria was not my native country; I was born in old Burgundy,
and it is too late to be sniveling at parting from Burgundy. It is
because I have parted with that little villain of an Antoine that I am
like this. When I saw the little wretch smiling at me from the shore,
and waving his hand and blinking his eyes, as if he were trying to keep
back the tears, what must this tough old heart of mine do but climb
right into my throat and try to choke me to death. A heart that has
served me well for all these years to play me a trick like that!"
"Will you please rise?" said a cold metallic voice at his elbow.
Glancing up Le Glorieux beheld Don Geronimo, the husband of the Lady
Clotilde. The jester's gaze traveled up the tall, thin form of the
Spaniard until it reached his face, which was dark and reminded the fool
of tanned leather.
"There being no particular reason why I should rise, I shall not rise
until it pleases me to do so," said he.
"Permit my servant to take those cushions which are beneath you," said
Don Geronimo icily. "You are sitting on a whole pile of them. They are
wanted for my wife, the Dona Clotilde, who is overcome."
"I will give anything to any lady at any time," said the fool, rising,
"but I should like to know what has overcome your lady wife so soon."
"Parting from her friends," replied the Spaniard, following his man, who
was loaded down with cushions.
"She did not care as much for the whole of Austria and Flanders as I
cared for that miserable little Antoine," grumbled the fool; "yet she
must be packed away in cushions that are jerked from under my very body
to make her comfortable. And our princess is so bravely bearing the
parting from her father, and is giving no trouble whatever! Any one
would think it is Clotilde who is being sent away in such state by
Austria."
The first day out it seemed as if the voyage was to be a calm and safe
one. When the novelty of gazing at the blue waters had worn off, the
princess and her ladies took their embroidery frames and passed their
time with their needles, laughing and chattering together. As soon as
she had ceased to be overcome, the Lady Clotilde joined them. When the
conversation turned to the perils of the ocean, she declared that she,
for one, did not fear them, being a true representative of a family that
knew no fear. She related a number of incidents when, according to her
story, she had stood within the very jaws of death without the slightest
thrill of fear.
Le Glorieux, who was sitting at the feet of his young mistress playing
with the silk-and-gold threads of her embroidery, remarked, "That is
because you spend so much of your time in pious reading, Cousin
Clotilde. Did you bring with you the silver book about the saints?"
The princess tried to frown at him, but he saw the twinkle of a smile
under her long, dark lashes.
But these were the last peaceful hours they spent for many days. In the
darkness of the night the storm demon came forth, shrieking in the
wind, and beating the waves into fury, holding the ships a trembling
instant on the crest of the wave, then dashing them into the trough of
the sea, sending some of them down to destruction.
Half dressed, the passengers of the Lady Marguerite's ship rushed out
into the salon. They forgot that they were the great ones of the earth
and that to them had been given the honor of escorting a princess to her
bridegroom. They knelt on the floor, and moaned, and told their beads,
just as so many peasants might have done.
The Lady Marguerite was calm, though very pale; close beside her stood
Le Glorieux, self-possessed, but no longer jesting. "If the good God is
ready to take me now, I could not have a happier death than to go down
with my little princess," said he.
Cunegunda held her lady's hand, which, forgetting her own danger, she
stroked, with words of endearment, while Brutus crept to her feet, and
putting his head on her lap, looked into the face of his mistress as if
to say that he, too, was ready to die with her.
The storm did not abate with the approach of day, nor did it cease the
next day, nor for many days, and it seemed as if their ship must be rent
to pieces by the combined forces of wind and wave.
Once Le Glorieux seized Cunegunda by the shoulders and bawled into her
ears, "You are always crying; cry now, when there is some reason for
it." But strange to say, Cunegunda shed no tears, though the Lady
Clotilde shrieked and wept continuously, seeming to forget all the
traditions of her family.
When learning that a number of the vessels had been lost, and that none
could tell at what moment her own ship would go down, Marguerite put
certain jewels on her fingers, neck, and arms that had long been in the
possession of the house of Hapsburg. "The body of a princess is not
different from that of a peasant," she said to her faithful attendants,
"and it may be that the fury of the storm will spare me some of these
jewels; so that if I am washed ashore I shall be identified." Then she
smiled to keep up the courage of the others and said, "It seems that
with all the planning of nations I am never to be a wife."
Then taking a slip of paper she wrote upon it two lines, which she
wrapped in a piece of oiled silk and fastened to her bracelet. These
lines, written in French, may be translated as follows, "Here lies
Marguerite, a noble maiden, who, though given two husbands, died a
maid."
But even a storm at sea can not last for ever, and the stout ship, being
mercifully spared, arrived at last with the remainder of the fleet in
safety at the port of Santander.