“The King said that nobody had ever danced as I danced to-night,” said
Columbine. “He said it was more than dancing, it was magic.”
“It is true,” said Harlequin, “you never danced like that before.”
But Pierrot paid no heed to their remarks, and stared vacantly at the
sky. They were sitting on the deserted stage of the grass amphitheatre
where they had been playing. Behind them were the clumps of cypress
trees which framed a vista of endless wooden garden and formed their
drop scene. They were sitting immediately beneath the wooden framework
made of two upright beams and one horizontal, which formed the primitive
proscenium, and from which little coloured lights had hung during the
performance. The King and Queen and their lords and ladies who had
looked on at the living puppet show had all left the amphitheatre; they
had put on their masks and their dominoes, and were now dancing on the
lawns, whispering in the alleys and the avenues, or sitting in groups
under the tall dark trees. Some of them were in boats on the lake, and
everywhere one went, from the dark boscages, came sounds of music, thin,
tinkling tunes played on guitars by skilled hands, and the bird-like
twittering and whistling of flageolets.
“The King said I looked like a moon fairy,” said Columbine to Pierrot.
Pierrot only stared at the sky and laughed inanely. “If you persist in
slighting me like this,” she whispered in his ear, in a whisper which
was like a hiss, “I will abandon you for ever. I will give my heart to
Harlequin, and you shall never see me again.” But Pierrot continued to
stare at the sky, and laughed once more inanely. Then Columbine got up,
her eyes flashing with rage; taking Harlequin by the arm she dragged
him swiftly away. They danced across the grass semi-circle of the
amphitheatre and up the steps away into the alleys. Pierrot was left
alone with Pantaloon, who was asleep, for he was old and clowning
fatigued him. Then Pierrot left the amphitheatre also, and putting
a black mask on his face he joined the revellers who were everywhere
dancing, whispering, talking, and making music in subdued tones. He
sought out a long lonely avenue, in one side of which there nestled,
almost entirely concealed by bushes and undergrowth, a round open Greek
temple. Right at the end of the avenue a foaming waterfall splashed down
into a large marble basin, from which a tall fountain rose, white and
ghostly, and made a sobbing noise. Pierrot went towards the temple, then
he turned back and walked right into the undergrowth through the bushes,
and lay down on the grass, and listened to the singing of the night-jar.
The whole garden that night seemed to be sighing and whispering;
there was a soft warm wind, and a smell of mown hay in the air, and an
intoxicating sweetness came from the bushes of syringa. Columbine and
Harlequin also joined the revellers. They passed from group to group,
with aimless curiosity, pausing sometimes by the artificial ponds and
sometimes by the dainty groups of dancers, whose satin and whose pearls
glimmered faintly in the shifting moonlight, for the night was cloudy.
At last they too were tired of the revel, they wandered towards a more
secluded place and made for the avenue which Pierrot had sought. On
their way they passed through a narrow grass walk between two rows of
closely cropped yew hedges. There on a marble seat a tall man in a black
domino was sitting, his head resting on his hands; and between the loose
folds of his satin cloak, one caught the glint of precious stones. When
they had passed him Columbine whispered to Harlequin: “That is the King.
I caught sight of his jewelled collar.” They presently found themselves
in the long avenue at the end of which were the waterfall and the
fountain. They wandered on till they reached the Greek temple, and there
suddenly Columbine put her finger on her lips. Then she led Harlequin
back a little way and took him round through the undergrowth to the back
of the temple, and, crouching down in the bushes, bade him look. In the
middle of the temple there was a statue of Eros holding a torch in his
hands. Standing close beside the statue were two figures, a man dressed
as a Pierrot, and a beautiful lady who wore a grey satin domino. She
had taken off her mask and pushed back the hood from her hair, which was
encircled by a diadem made of something shining and silvery, and a ray
of moonlight fell on her face, which was as delicate as the petal of a
flower. Pierrot was masked; he was holding her hand and looking into her
eyes, which were turned upwards towards his.
“It is the Queen!” whispered Columbine to Harlequin. And once more
putting her finger on her lips, she deftly led him by the hand and
noiselessly threaded her way through the bushes and back into the
avenue, and without saying a word ran swiftly with him to the place
where they had seen the King. He was still there, alone, his head
resting upon his hands.
* * * * *
In the temple the Queen was upbraiding her lover for his temerity
in having crossed the frontier into the land from which he had been
banished for ever, and for having dared to appear at the court revel
disguised as Pierrot. “Remember,” she was saying, “the enemies that
surround us, the dreadful peril, and the doom that awaits us.” And her
lover said: “What is doom, and what is death? You whispered to the night
and I heard. You sighed and I am here!” He tore the mask from his face,
and the Queen looked at him and smiled. At that moment a rustle
was heard in the undergrowth, and the Queen started back from him,
whispering: “We are betrayed! Fly!” And her lover put on his mask and
darted through the undergrowth, following a path which he and no one
else knew, till he came to an open space where his squire awaited him
with horses, and they galloped away safe from all pursuit.
Then the King walked into the temple and led the Queen back to the
palace without saying a word; but the whole avenue was full of dark
men bearing torches and armed with swords, who were searching the
undergrowth. And presently they found Pierrot who, ignorant of all that
had happened, had been listening all night to the song of the night-jar.
He was dragged to the palace and cast into a dungeon, and the King
was told. But the revel did not cease, and the dancing and the music
continued softly as before. The King sent for Columbine and told her she
should have speech with Pierrot in his prison, for haply he might
have something to confess to her. And Columbine was taken to Pierrot’s
dungeon, and the King followed her without her knowing it, and concealed
himself behind the door, which he set ajar.
Columbine upbraided Pierrot and said: “All this was my work. I have
always known that you loved the Queen. And yet for the sake of past
days, tell me the truth. Was it love or a joke, such as those you love
to play?”
Pierrot laughed inanely. “It was a joke,” he said. “It is my trade to
make jokes. What else can I do?”
“You love the Queen nevertheless,” said Columbine, “of that I am sure,
and for that I have had my revenge.”
“It was a joke,” said Pierrot, and he laughed again.
And though she talked and raved and wept, she could get no other answer
from him. Then she left him, and the King entered the dungeon.
“I have heard what you said,” said the King, “but to me you must tell
the truth. I do not believe it was you who met the Queen in the temple;
tell me the truth, and your life shall be spared.”
“It was a joke,” said Pierrot, and he laughed. Then the King grew fierce
and stormed and threatened. But his rage and threats were in vain! for
Pierrot only laughed. Then the King appealed to him as man to man and
implored him to tell him the truth; for he would have given his kingdom
to believe that it was the real Pierrot who had met the Queen and that
the adventure had been a joke. Pierrot only repeated what he had said,
and laughed and giggled inanely.
At dawn the prison door was opened and three masked men led Pierrot out
through the courtyard into the garden. The revellers had gone home, but
here and there lights still twinkled and flickered and a stray note or
two of music was still heard. Some of the latest of the revellers were
going home. The dawn was grey and chilly; they led Pierrot through the
alleys to the grass amphitheatre, and they hanged him on the horizontal
beam which formed part of the primitive proscenium where he and
Columbine had danced so wildly in the night. They hanged him and his
white figure dangled from the beam as though he were still dancing;
and the new Pierrot, who was appointed the next day, was told that such
would be the fate of all mummers who went too far, and whose jokes and
pranks overstepped the limits of decency and good breeding.