HOW MESSIRE GILLES WAS REMINDED OF A DREAM
I
In Maître C. Calviac's treatise on the manners and tone of good
society, which he published in the year 1560[1] for the guidance of
those who desired to frequent the company of the Great, we are told
that 'when we enter the presence of exalted personages, we must walk
on the tips of our toes, incline our body and make a profound
obeisance.' And further, Maître Calviac goes on to explain the many
different modes of saluting, which we might adopt for the occasion:
'Firstly,' he says, 'we can uncover our right hand, with it lower our
hat by stretching the arm down along our right thigh and leaving our
left hand free. Secondly, we can regard humbly and reverentially the
exalted one whom we desire to salute. Thirdly, we can lower our gaze
and advance our right foot whilst drawing the left one slightly back.
We can also take off the glove from our right hand, incline our body,
and after nearly touching the ground with our hand, carry our fingers
to our lips, as if in the act of imprinting a kiss upon their tips.'
[1] La Civile Honnêteté, par C. Calviac. Paris 1560. in-12.
Finally, our accomplished monitor tells us that the embrace is yet
another form of salute which cannot, however, be practised save
between persons of equal rank or those who are bound to one another
by ties of kinship or of especial friendship. In that case, the most
civil manner of thus saluting is for each to place the right hand on
the top of the other's shoulder and the left hand just below, and
then present the left cheek one to the other, without touching or
actually kissing the same.
We may take it that Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy, governor of the
province of Cambrésis, being an exalted personage himself and closely
connected by family ties with Madame Jacqueline de Broyart--whose
guardian and protector he was--did adopt the latter mode of
salutation when, at eight o'clock precisely of the following evening,
he presented himself before his young ward for the purpose of
conducting her to the State dining-room, where a banquet in honour of
several distinguished guests was already spread. We may take it, I
say, that Monseigneur the governor did take off his right-hand glove,
advance his right foot and walk on the tips of his toes; that he did
place one hand on Madame Jacqueline's shoulder, whilst she did the
same to him, and that they each presented the left cheek to one
another in accordance with the laws of propriety laid down by Maître
Calviac.
Monseigneur was accompanied by a young man whose manners and
demeanour were even more punctilious and ceremonious than those of
his companion. The airs and graces wherewith he advanced in order to
greet Madame Jacqueline would have done honour to a Grand Master at
the Court of the Spanish King. And, indeed, many did aver that M. le
Marquis de Landas had Spanish blood in his veins, and that, though he
was a Netherlander by birth, and a Protestant by practise, he was a
Spaniard and a Papist by tradition--which fact did not tend to make
him popular in the Cambrésis, where the armies of Alexander Farnesse,
Duke of Parma, were already over-running the villages, rumour being
rife that they were about to threaten Cambray.
'Twas well said of M. le Marquis de Landas that none knew better than
he how to turn a compliment. Perhaps that same strain of Spanish
blood in him had given him glibness of tongue and the languorous look
in the eyes which had rendered many a favoured lady proud. He was
known to be of exalted lineage but not endowed with fortune,
connected too with some of the noblest families both in Flanders and
in Spain, and had lately come to the Cambrésis as aide-de-camp to his
kinsman, the baron d'Inchy, who had promptly given him command of the
garrison of Cambray.
So much for facts that were known. But there were rumours and
conjectures, not altogether false, it seems, that M. de Landas was a
suitor for Madame Jacqueline's hand--one of the many, of course; for
her hand was sought far and wide. She would bring a rich dowry as
her marriage portion to any man who was lucky enough to win her, and
also the influence of her Flemish kinsmen, who had already boldly
asserted that the Sovereignty of the Netherlands would go with the
hand of Madame Jacqueline de Broyart.
Many favoured the French alliance; others preferred the Netherlander
with the strain of quasi-royal Spanish blood in him. The Marquis de
Landas would prove a useful link between the Spaniards and the
Netherlanders, would know how to smoothe many difficulties, calm the
obstinate temperament of the Dutch and gloss over the tyranny of
their masters. He had suave manners and a persuasive tongue, useful
in politics. The ladies of Cambray at once adored him: his olive
skin, his dark hair which clustered in heavy waves above the well-cut
oval of his face, his large brown, velvety eyes, were all destined to
please the fair sex. He wore a silky moustache and the small,
pointed beard on his chin, and his cheeks were of a blue-black colour
all down where the barber shaved him every day. Whene'er he gazed on
a young and pretty woman his eyes would assume an amorous expression
and his lips were curved and of a bright cherry-red, like those of a
girl.
II
Between Jacqueline and her young kinsman there had sprung just that
kind of love which is made up of passion on the one side and innocent
devotion on the other. At first it had flourished almost
unopposed--ignored, probably, as being of no importance. Monseigneur
d'Inchy's plans for his ward had been both immature and vague, for,
until a year or so ago Jacqueline had a brother living--Jan, a couple
of years older than herself, who was the owner of the rich
Netherlands duchies and on the point of taking unto himself a wife.
But, with the death of that brother, Jacqueline at once became a
personage of vast importance. She had remained the sole possessor of
the princely heritage and thereby a pawn in the political game in
which the Sovereignty of the Netherlands was the priceless guerdon.
Monseigneur d'Inchy's plans began to mature: ineligible and obscure
suitors were quickly given the cold shoulder and an imaginary barrier
was drawn around Madame Jacqueline into the inner circle of which
only scions of kingly or great princely houses were allowed to enter.
Jacqueline's dowry rendered her a fit mate even for a King.
Even M. de Landas, more highly connected than most, backed too by his
Royal Spanish kindred, found that his position as an approved suitor
had suddenly become gravely imperilled. Monseigneur d'Inchy no
longer looked on him as an altogether desirable mate for the richest
heiress in the Netherlands, now that one of the sons of the Emperor,
a reigning German duke, and the brother of the King of France, were
among those who had entered the lists for her favours.
But, as is nearly always the case in such matters, the boy and girl
affection ripened, with this growing opposition, into something more
ardent and more passionate. M. de Landas, who hitherto had dallied
with his pretty cousin just to the extent that suited his wayward
fancy, suddenly realized that he was very deeply enamoured of her;
jealousy did the rest, transforming transient sentiment into
impetuous and exacting fervour.
As for Jacqueline, though she was no longer a mere child, she was
totally inexperienced and unversed in the knowledge of human
hearts--not excepting her own. She loved de Landas dearly, had loved
him ever since he first began to speak of love to her. It is so
difficult for a girl, as yet untouched by searing passion, to
distinguish between sentimental affection and the love which fills a
life. Landas whispered amorous, tender, flattering words in her ear,
had fine, flashing eyes which, with their glance of bold admiration,
were wont to bring the warm blood to her cheeks. He had a way with
him, in fact, which quickly swept her off her feet in the whirlpool
of his infatuation, long before she had learned that there were other
streams whereon she could have launched her barque of life, with a
greater certainty of happiness.
Her heart was touched by his ardour, even though her senses were not
fully awakened yet; but she yielded to his caresses with a girlish
surrender of self, not realizing that the thrill of pleasure which
she felt was as ephemeral as it was shallow. She admired him for his
elegant manners, which he had acquired at the Spanish Court, for they
stood out in brilliant contrast to the more uncouth Flemish ways;
whilst his admiration for her was so unbounded that, despite herself,
the young girl felt enraptured by his glowing looks.
To-night she knew that she was beautiful, and that consciousness lent
her a quaint air of dignity and self-possession. An unwonted
excitement which she could not account for caused her eyes to shine
like stars through the slits of her mask. De Landas could only gaze
in rapt wonderment at the vision of radiant youth and loveliness
which stood before him in the person of Jacqueline de Broyart.
'You are more adorable to-night than ever, my beloved,' he contrived
to whisper to her behind Monseigneur d'Inchy's back. 'And I am
thankful that Monseigneur's orders have decreed that so much beauty
shall remain hidden from unworthy eyes.'
Monseigneur, it seems, just caught these last few words, but mistook
their exact meaning. 'All the ladies, my dear de Landas,' he said
somewhat tartly, 'who belong to our circle will appear masked at all
future public functions until I myself do rescind this order.'
'I was not complaining, Messire,' retorted de Landas dryly. 'On the
contrary, I, as a devoted friend, have reason to rejoice at the
order, seeing that several strangers will be at your banquet this
night, and it were certainly not seemly for ladies of exalted rank to
appear unmasked before them.'
He paused awhile, noting with pleasure that his bold glance had
brought a glow to Jacqueline's delicate throat and chin. Then he
murmured softly:
''Tis only when the strangers have departed that we, who have the
privilege of intimacy, can call on the ladies to unmask.'
'Even you, my dear de Landas,' broke in d'Inchy curtly, 'must be
content to wait until I decide to grant you special favours. Shall
we go below, Madame?' he added, turning to Jacqueline. 'The banquet
is spread for nine o'clock.'
Jacqueline, who had scarce uttered a word since the gentlemen entered
the room, appeared almost as if she were waking from a trance. Her
eyes had a vague, expectant look in them which delighted de Landas,
for his vanity at once interpreted that look as one caused by his
presence and his own fascination. But now that she encountered her
guardian's cold, quizzical glance, the young girl pulled herself
together, laughed lightly and said with a careless shrug of her
pretty shoulders:
'Nay, then, Monseigneur; 'twill not be my fault if we are late, for
I've been dressed this past half-hour, and oh!' she added with a mock
sigh of weariness, 'Ye gods! How bored I have been, seeing that I
detest all these modish Parisian clothes almost as much as I do a
mask, and have chafed bitterly at having to don them.'
'You would not have been bored, Madame,' riposted de Landas with
elaborate gallantry, 'had you but glanced once or twice into your
mirror, for then you would have been regaled with a sight which,
despite the cruel mask, will set every man's heart beating with joy
to-night!'
She received his formal compliment more carelessly than was her wont,
and he, quick to note every shade of indifference or warmth in her
demeanour, frowned with vexation, felt a curious, gnawing pang of
jealousy assail him. Jacqueline was so young, so adulated, so very,
very beautiful! This was not the first time of late that he had
asked himself whether he could hope to enchain her lasting affection,
as he had done her girlish fancy ... and had found no satisfactory
answer to the bitterly searching question. But she, equally quick to
note his moods, quite a little in awe of his outbursts of jealousy,
which she had learned to dread, threw him a glance which soon turned
his moodiness into wild exultation. After which, Jacqueline turned
to Nicolle, who was standing by, gazing on her young mistress in rapt
adoration.
'Give me my fan and gloves, dear Colle,' she said.
And when Colle had given her these things, she put on her gloves and,
holding her fan in one hand and the edge of her satin skirt with the
other, she made a low curtsey before her guardian, looking shy and
demure in every line of her young figure, even though the mask hid
the expression of her face.
'Does my appearance,' she asked, 'meet with Monseigneur's approval?'
The answer was so obvious that M. d'Inchy--who was somewhat nervy and
irritable this evening--said nothing but a sharp, 'Come, Jacqueline!'
Whereupon she placed her hand upon his left arm, and without glancing
again in her lover's direction, she walked sedately across the room.
III
The dining hall on the floor below was brilliantly lighted for the
occasion. At one end of it three tables had been laid for eighty-two
guests; they were spread with fine linen and laden with silver dishes
and cut glass.
In the centre of the room the company was already assembled:
gentlemen and ladies whom Monseigneur, governor of Cambray and the
Cambrésis, desired to honour and to entertain. They had entered the
room in accordance with their rank, those of humble degree first--one
or two of the more important burghers of the town and their wives,
members of the municipal council and mayors of the various guilds.
The gentlemen of quality followed next, for it was necessary, in
accordance with usage, that persons of lower rank should be present,
in order to receive those who stood above them in station.
It would be a laborious task to enumerate all the personages of
exalted rank who filed into the stately hall, one after another, in a
veritably brilliant and endless procession. The Magistrate--elected
by the Governor--was there as a matter of course, so was the Provost
of the City, and one or two of the Sheriffs. Naturally, the absence
of the Archbishop and of the higher clergy detracted somewhat from
the magnificence of the pageant, but Monseigneur d'Inchy had taken
possession of the city, the province and the Palace, and the
Archbishop was now an exile in his own diocese. On the other hand,
the Peers and Seigneurs of the Province were well represented: we
know that Monseigneur de Prémont was there, as well as Monseigneur
d'Audencourt and Monseigneur d'Esne and many other wealthy and
distinguished gentlemen and their ladies.
Most of the ladies wore masks, as did many of the men. This mode had
lately become very general in Paris, and the larger provincial towns,
who desired to be in the fashion, were never slow in adopting those
which hailed from the French capital. The custom had its origin in
the inordinate vanity of the time--vanity amounting to a vice--and
which hath never been equalled in any other epoch of history. Women
and men too were so vain of their complexions and spent so much upon
its care, used so many cosmetics, pastes and other beautifiers, that,
having accomplished a veritable work of art upon their faces, they
were loth to expose it to the inclemencies of the weather or the
fumes of tallow candles and steaming food. Hence the masks at first,
especially out of doors and during meals. Afterwards, they became an
attribute of good society. Ladies of rank and fashion wore them when
strangers were present or when at a ball they did not desire to
dance. To remove a mask at the end of a meal or before a dance was a
sign of familiarity or of gracious condescension: to wear one became
a sign of exalted rank, of high connexions and of aloofness from the
commoner herd of mankind. Whereupon those of humbler degree promptly
followed suit.
IV
When M. le Baron d'Inchy entered the dining hall, having Madame
Jacqueline de Broyart on his arm and followed by M. le Marquis de
Landas, the whole company was assembled in order to greet the host.
Jacqueline's entry was hailed with an audible murmur of admiration
and a noisy frou-frou of silks and satins, as the men bowed to the
ground and the ladies' skirts swept the matting of the floor. The
murmur of admiration increased in boldness as the young girl went
round the company in order to welcome her friends.
And, indeed, Jacqueline de Broyart fully deserved that admiration.
As you know, Messire Rembrandt painted her a year or so later in the
very dress in which she appeared this night--a dress all of
shimmering white satin and pearls, save for the peep of delicate
green and silver afforded by the under-dress, and the dark crimson of
her velvet shoes and silk stockings. The steel corset encased her
young figure like a breastplate, coming to a deep point well below
the natural waist, whilst round her hips the huge monstrosity of the
farthingale hid effectually all the natural grace of her movements.
In Rembrandt's picture we see the dainty face, round and fresh as a
flower, with the nose slightly tip-tilted, the short upper lip and
full, curved mouth; we also see the eyes, large and blue, beneath the
straight brow--eyes which had nothing of the usually vapid expression
of those that are blue--eyes which, even in the picture, seem to
dance with merriment and with joy, and to which the tiny brown mole,
artfully placed by nature upon the left cheek-bone, lent an
additional air of roguishness and of youth.
To-night, her girlish figure was distorted by hoops of steel, but
even these abominations of fashion could not mar the charm of her
personality. Her figure looked like an unwieldy bell, but above the
corset her shoulders and her young breasts shone like ivory set in a
frame of delicate lace; her blue eyes sparkled with unwonted
excitement, and beneath the flickering light of innumerable wax
candles her hair had gleams of coppery gold.
But, above all, there was in Jacqueline de Broyart the subtle and
evanescent charm of extreme youth and that delicious quality of
innocence and of dependence which makes such an irresistible appeal
to the impressionable hearts of men. Just now, she was feeling
peculiarly happy and exhilarated, and, childlike, being happy herself
she was prodigal of smiles: the small element of romance which had so
unaccountably entered into her life with the advent of the mysterious
singer had somehow made the whole world seem gay and bright in a way
which de Landas' passionate and exacting love had never succeeded in
doing. It had dissipated the pall of boredom and ceremonious
monotony which was as foreign to Jacqueline's buoyant nature as was
the corselet to her lissom figure. The light of mischief and frolic
danced in her eyes, even though at times, for a moment or two, de
Landas, who observed her with the keenness and persistence of a
jealous lover, would detect in her manner a certain softness and
languor which made her appear more alluring, more tantalizing
perhaps, then she had ever been.
As she entered the room, she gave a quick and comprehensive glance on
the assembled company.
'Tell me, Monseigneur,' she whispered in her guardian's ear, 'has the
stranger arrived?'
'The stranger?' retorted d'Inchy. 'What stranger?'
'Pardi! Monsieur le Prince de Froidmont,' she said. 'Who else?'
'Oh!' replied d'Inchy with well-assumed indifference, 'the Prince de
Froidmont has certainly arrived before now. He is not a person of
great consequence. Why should you be interested in him, my dear
Jacqueline?'
To this Jacqueline made no answer, looked down her nose very
demurely, so that only her blue-veined lids could be seen through the
slits of her mask. She drew up her slim figure to its full height,
looked tall and graceful, too, despite that hideous farthingale.
Friends crowded round her and round Monseigneur the governor, and she
was kept busy acknowledging many greetings and much fulsome flattery.
M. le Marquis de Landas never swerved from her side. He, too, wore a
mask, but his was a short one which left the mouth and chin free, and
all the while that other men--young ones especially--almost fought
for a look or a smile from the beautiful heiress, his slender hand
was perpetually stroking and tugging at his moustache--a sure sign
that his nerves were somewhat on edge.
V
Monseigneur d'Inchy left his ward for a moment or two in the midst of
all her friends and admirers and drew Monseigneur de Lalain into a
secluded portion of the room.
'Well!' he began curtly, as soon as he felt assured that there were
no eavesdroppers nigh. 'He is here.'
'Yes!' said de Lalain, also sinking his voice to a whisper. 'He came
early, as one who is of no account, and at once mixed with the
throng.'
'You were here when he arrived?'
'No. But I came soon after.'
'Was there much curiosity about him?'
'Naturally,' replied de Lalain. 'Our good bourgeois of Cambray do
not often have the chance of gossiping over so mysterious a
personality.'
'But did they receive him well?'
De Lalain shrugged his shoulders and, by way of reply, pointed to the
further end of the room, where a tall figure, richly though very
sombrely dressed and wearing a mask of black satin, stood out in
splendid isolation from the rest of the crowd.
Gilles, from where he stood, caught de Lalain's gesture and d'Inchy's
scrutinizing look. He replied to both by a scarce perceptible
obeisance. His keen eyes under the shield of the mask had already
swept with a searching glance over the entire company. Strangely
enough, though the success of his present adventure was bound up in a
woman, it was the men's faces that he scanned most eagerly at first.
A goodly number of them wore masks like himself, but when he drew
himself up for a moment to his full height with a movement that was
almost a challenge, he felt quite sure in his own mind that he would
at once detect--by that subtle instinct of self-preservation which is
the attribute of every gambler--if danger of recognition lurked
anywhere about.
He himself had never been to Cambray, it is true, and he was a knight
of such humble degree that it was not very likely that, among this
assembly of Flemish notabilities, some one should just happen to know
him intimately enough to denounce him as the adventurer that ne
really was. Still, the danger did exist--enough of it, at any rate,
to add zest to the present situation. Light-hearted and careless as
always, Gilles shrugged his broad shoulders and turned his attention
to the ladies.
Here, though there also was suspicion, there was undoubtedly keen
interest. Over the top of Monseigneur d'Inchy's head Gilles could
see at the end of the room the group of ladies, gay in their
brilliantly-coloured satin dresses and their flashing jewels, like a
swarm of butterflies, and standing as closely together as their
unwieldy hoops would allow. He felt that at least a score pairs of
eyes were fixed upon him through the narrow slits of satin masks, and
that murmured comments upon him and his appearance, conjectures as to
his identity and his rank, flew from many a pair of lovely lips.
Right in the very centre of that group was a woman all dressed in
white, with just a narrow peep of pale green showing down her skirt,
which gave to her person the appearance of a white lily on its stem.
Something immature about the shoulders and the smooth, round
neck--something shy yet dignified about the poise of the head,
suggested youth not yet fully conscious of its beauty and its power,
while the richness of her attire and of her jewels proclaimed both
wealth and high position. Murmurs and remarks among the gentlemen
around him soon made it clear to Gilles that this was the lady whom
he had been sent to woo. Agreeably thrilled by the delicate curves
of her throat and breast, he thought that he might spend some very
pleasant hours in sentimental dalliance with so fair a maid.
'We must have that mask from off your face, madonna,' he said to
himself; 'and not later than this night! In affairs of the heart,
even by proxy, one does not like to venture in the dark.'
So intent was he on his own meditations that he failed to note the
approach of a young cavalier, dressed in rich garments of sober
black, who suddenly addressed him in a slightly ironical tone, which
however appeared intended to be friendly.
'You seem to be a stranger here, Messire,' the young cavalier said
lightly. 'Can I be of any service?'
He spoke French very fluently but with a slight guttural accent,
which betrayed Spanish blood and which for some unexplainable reason
grated unpleasantly on Gilles de Crohin's ear.
'Oh, Messire!' replied the latter quietly, 'I pray you do not waste
your time on me. I am a stranger, it is true; but as such, the
brilliant picture before me is full of interest.'
'You are visiting Cambray for the first time?' asked the other, still
with an obvious effort at amiability.
'For the first time--yes, Messire.'
'In search of fortune?'
'As we all are, methinks.'
'Cambray is scarce the place to find it.'
'Is that your experience of it, Messire?'
De Landas frowned and a sharp retort obviously hovered on his lips.
He appeared morose and captious about something; probably the fact
that Jacqueline had evinced an extraordinary interest in the masked
stranger had acted as an irritant on his nerves.
But already Gilles appeared to have completely forgotten his
presence, had only listened with half an ear to the Spaniard's
laboured amenities. For the nonce he was vaguely conscious that
through the slits of her mask, the lily-like maid kept her eyes fixed
very intently upon him.
'Monseigneur the governor,' de Landas was saying just then, 'desires
your presence, Messire. He wishes you to pay your respects to the
noble Dame Jacqueline de Broyart.'
The name acted like magic on Gilles' temper. He pulled himself
together and with a cool 'At your service, Messire!' he followed de
Landas across the room.
VI
The presentation had been made. It was very formal and very distant;
it even seemed to Gilles as if Jacqueline had somewhat ostentatiously
turned away from him as soon as he had gone through the ceremonious
bowings and kissing of hand which convention demanded. For a moment
or two after that, M. d'Inchy kept him in close converse, whilst de
Landas, evidently reassured by Jacqueline's indifference toward the
stranger, appeared much more amiable and serene. But the young
Spaniard's mind was apparently still disturbed. He studied the other
man with an intentness which, in those days of fiery and quarrelsome
tempers, might almost have been construed into an insult. He
appeared to chafe under the man's cool confidence in himself and M.
d'Inchy's obvious deference towards one who outwardly was of no
account.
Gilles took no further notice of him; but, as he would have told you
himself, he felt an atmosphere of hostility around him, which
appeared to find its origin in de Landas' attitude. D'Inchy, aided
by de Lalain, did his best to dissipate that atmosphere, but
evidently he, too, felt oppressed and nervy. Unversed in the art of
duplicity, he was making almost ludicrous efforts to appear at his
ease and to hide his profound respect for a prince of the House of
France under a cloak of casual friendliness--an elephantine effort
which did not deceive de Landas.
Gilles alone appeared unconscious of embarrassment. His mind was not
properly enchained either to M. d'Inchy's difficulties or to the
young Spaniard's growing enmity. His thoughts were for ever breaking
bounds, turning at every moment to the girlish figure in the unwieldy
hoops and the white satin gown, whose merry laugh was like the
twittering of robins in the early days of spring. Even at this
moment his attention had been arrested by a little episode which
occurred at the end of the room, where she was standing. A little,
sudden cry of pain rang out from beneath one of the satin masks.
Some one had evidently been hurt--a prick from a pin, perhaps, or a
toe trodden on. Anyhow, there was the cry, and Messire Gilles would
have thought nothing more of it only that the next moment a girlish
voice reached his ear--a voice quite tearful and trembling with
compassion.
'Think you it will heal?' the voice said tenderly.
And then it appeared to Gilles as if something in his brain had
suddenly been aroused, as if memory--a vague, dreamy memory--had
become quickened and like some intangible sprite had taken a huge
leap backwards into some dim and remote past which the brain itself
was still unable to reach or to seize upon. It was not a
recollection, nor yet a definite thought; but for one moment Gilles
remained absolutely still and was conscious of a curious, swift
beating of his heart, and a still more strange, choking sensation in
his throat.
The whole episode had occurred within the brief compass of half a
dozen heart-beats, and Gilles, when he looked once more on
Monseigneur d'Inchy, still saw that same look of perplexity upon the
Fleming's face, whilst from the group of ladies in the distant part
of the room there came only the same confused murmur of voices of
awhile ago.
So Gilles sighed, thinking that his excited fancy had been playing
him an elusive trick.
And the next moment the loud clanging of a bronze bell proclaimed to
the assembled guests that the banquet was ready to be served.