hoarsely.
"Constable of Falaise, you were not honest with me that night in your
castle. I spoke to you freely from the bottom of my heart; you
answered me from your lips outward."
"I do not understand your majesty," replied the young man grimly.
"Yes, you do. You love Mary of Vendome. Why did you not tell me so?"
"To what purpose should I have made such a confession, even if it were
the fact?"
"To the purpose of truth, if for nothing else. God's sake, man, is it
thus you love in France! Cold Scotland can be in that your tutor. In
your place, there had been a quick divorce between my sword and
scabbard. Were my rival twenty times a king, I'd face him out and
say, by Cupid's bow, return or fight."
"What! This in your castle to your guest?" exclaimed Talbot.
"No, perhaps not. You are in the right, constable, you are in the
right. I had forgotten your situation for the moment. I should have
been polite to him within my own walls, but I should have followed
him across my marches and slit his gullet on the king's highway."
Notwithstanding his distraction of mind the newcomer smiled somewhat
wanly at the impetuosity of the other.
"You must remember that while your foot presses French soil, you are
still the guest of all true Frenchmen, nevertheless your majesty's
words have put new life into my veins. Did you see Mary of Vendome?"
"Yes, and there is not three months' life left to her unless she draws
vitality from your presence. Man, man, why stand you here idling?
Climb walls, force bolts, kidnap the girl and marry her in spite of
all the world."
"Alas, there is not a priest in all France would dare to marry us,
knowing her pledged to your majesty."
"Priests of France! I have priests in my own train who will, at a word
from me, link you tighter than these stones are cemented together.
God's will, Talbot, these obstacles but lend interest to the chase."
"Is it possible that you, having opportunity, care not to marry Mary
of Vendome?" cried the amazed young man, who could not comprehend
that where his preference fell another might be indifferent; for she
was, as he had said, the Pearl of France to him, and it seemed absurd
to imagine that she might not be so to all the world.
"United Europe, with Francis and the Emperor Charles for once combined
could not force me to marry where I did not love. I failed to
understand this when I left Scotland, but I have grown in wisdom since
then."
"Who is she?" asked the constable, with eager interest.
"Hark ye, Talbot," said the king, lowering his voice and placing an
arm affectionately over the shoulder of the other. "You shall be my
guide. Who is the Lady Madeleine of this court?"
"The Lady Madeleine? There are several."
"No, there is but one, the youngest, the most beautiful, the most
witty, the most charming. Who is she?"
The constable wrinkled his brows in thought.
"That must be Madeleine de Montmorency. She is the youngest of her
name, and is by many accounted beautiful. I never heard that she was
esteemed witty until your majesty said so. Rather reserved and proud.
Is that the lady?"
"Proud, yes. Reserved--um, yes, that is, perhaps not when she meets a
man who knows enough to appreciate her. However, I shall speedily
solve the riddle, and must remember that you do not see the lady
through a lover's eyes. But I will not further keep you. A change of
costume may prove to your advantage, and I doubt not an untroubled
night's sleep will further it."
"Your majesty overwhelms me with kindness," murmured the young lover,
warmly grasping the hand extended to him. "Have I your permission to
tell Mary of Vendome?"
"You have my permission to tell her anything, but you will bring her
no news, for I am now on my way to see her."
The king gaily marched on, his head held high, a man not to be denied,
and as he passed along all bowed at his coming, for everyone in the
court admired him. There was something unexpectedly French in the dash
of this young Scotchman. He strode across the court and up the steps
which led into the Palais Vendome. The duchess herself met him with a
hard smile on her thin lips.
"Madam," he said bruskly, "I would see your daughter alone."
The grim duchesse hesitated.
"Mary is so shy," she said at last.
But the king interrupted her.
"I have a cure for that. Shyness flees in my presence. I would see
your daughter alone, madam; send her to me."
There being no remedy when a king commands, the lady made the best of
a dubious proceeding.
James was pacing up and down the splendid drawing-room when, from the
further door the drooping girl appeared, still with downcast eyes,
nun-like in her meek obedience. She came forward perhaps a third the
length of the room, faltered, and stood.
"Mary," said the king, "they told me you were beautiful, but I come
to announce to you that such is not my opinion. You are ambitious,
it would seem, so I tell you frankly, you will never be Queen of
Scotland."
For the first time in his presence the girl uncovered her eyes and
looked up at him.
"Yes," said the king, "your eyes are fine. I am constrained to concede
that much, and if I do not wed you myself it is but right I should
nominate a candidate for your hand. There is a friend of mine for whom
I shall use my influence with Francis and your father that they may
persuade you to marry him. He is young Talbot, Constable of Falaise, a
demented stripling who calls you the Pearl of France. Ah, now the
colour comes to your cheeks. I would not have believed it. All this
demureness then----" But the girl had sunk at his feet, grasped his
hand and pressed it to her lips.
"Tut, tut," he cried hastily, "that is a reversal of the order of
nature. Rise, and when I send young Talbot to you, see that you
welcome him; and now, good-day to you."
As he passed through the outer room the duchesse lay in wait for him
and began murmuring apologies for her daughter's diffidence.
"We have arranged all about the wedding, madam," said the king
reassuringly as he left the palace.
The next day at the hour when the king had met Madeleine for the first
time, he threaded his way eagerly through the mazes of the old castle
until he came to the door that led him out into the Elysian garden.
The weather still befriended him, being of an almost summer mildness.
For several minutes he paced impatiently up and down the gravel walk,
but no laughing face greeted him from the battlements above. At last,
swearing a good round Scottish oath he said, "I'll solve the mystery
of the balcony," and seizing the lower branch of the tree, he was
about to climb as he had done before, when a tantalizing silvery laugh
brought his arms down to his sides again. It seemed to come from an
arbour at the further end of the grounds, but when he reached there
the place proved empty. He pretended to search among the bushes, but
nevertheless kept an eye on the arbour, when his sharp ear caught a
rustling of silk from behind the summer-house. He made a dash towards
it, then reversed his direction, speeding like the wind, and next
instant this illusive specimen of Gallic womanhood ran plump into his
arms, not seeing where she was going, her head averted to watch the
danger that threatened from another quarter.
Before she could give utterance to more than one exclamatory "Oh," he
had kissed her thrice full on the lips. She struggled in his arms like
a frightened bird, nobly indignant with shame-crimsoned cheeks,
smiting him with her powerless little snowflake of a hand. Her royal
lover laughed.
"Ha, my Madeleine, this is the second stage of the game. The hand was
paradise on earth; the lips are the seventh heaven itself."
"Release me, you Scottish clown!" cried Madeleine, her black eyes
snapping fire. "I will have you whipped from the court for your
insolence."
"My dear, you could not be so cruel. Remember that poor Cupid's back
is naked, and he would quiver under every stroke."
"I'd never have condescended to meet you, did I dream of your acting
so. 'Tis intolerable, the forwardness of you beggarly Scots!"
"Nay, never beggarly, my dear, except where a woman is concerned, and
then we beg for favours."
"You little suspect who I am or you would not venture to misuse me
thus, and be so free with your 'my dears.'"
"Indeed, lass, in that you are mistaken. I not only found you in the
garden, but I found your name as well. You are Madeleine de
Montmorency."
She ceased to struggle, and actually laughed a little.
"How clever you are to have discovered so much in such a short time.
Now let me go, and I will thank you; nay more, I promise that if you
ask the Duke of Montmorency for his permission, and he grants it, I
will see you as often as you please."
"Now Madeleine, I hold you to that, and I will seek an introduction to
the duke at once."
She stepped back from him panting, and sank into a deep courtesy that
seemed to be characterised more by ridicule than politeness.
"Oh, thank you, sir," she said. "I should dearly love to be an
eavesdropper at your conference."
Before he could reply, the door opened by which he had entered the
park.
"In the fiend's name, the king!" muttered James, in no manner pleased
by the unwelcome interruption.
All colour left the girl's face, and she hastily endeavoured to
arrange in brief measure the disordered masses of her hair, somewhat
tangled in the struggle. As Francis advanced up the walk, the genial
smile froze on his lips, and an expression of deep displeasure
overshadowed his countenance, a look of stern resentment coming into
his eyes that would have made any man in his realm quail before him.
The girl was the first to break the embarrassing silence, saying
breathlessly,--
"Your majesty must not blame this Scottish knight. It is all my fault,
for I lured him hither."
"Peace, child," exclaimed Francis in a voice of cold anger. "You know
not what you say. What do you here alone with the King of Scotland?"
"The King of Scotland!" echoed Madeleine, in surprise, her eyes
opening wide with renewed interest as she gazed upon him. Then she
laughed. "They told me the King of Scotland was a handsome man!"
James smiled at this imputation on his appearance, and even the rigour
of the lord of France relaxed a trifle, and a gleam of affection for
the wayward girl that was not to be concealed, rose in his eyes.
"Sire," said James slowly, "we are neither of us to blame. 'Tis the
accident that brought us together must bear the brunt of consequence.
I cannot marry Mary of Vendome, and indeed I was about to beg your
majesty to issue your command that she may wed your Constable of
Falaise. If there is to be a union between France and Scotland other
than now exists, this lady, and this lady alone, must say yes or no to
it. Premising her free consent, I ask her hand in marriage."
"She is but a child," objected Francis, breathing a sigh, which had,
however, something of relief in it.
"I am fully seventeen," expostulated Madeleine, with a promptness that
made both men laugh.
"Sire, Youth is a fault, which alas, travels continually with Time,
its antidote," said James. "If I have your good wishes in this
project, on which, I confess, my heart is set, I shall at once
approach the Duke of Montmorency and solicit his consent."
The face of Francis had cleared as if a ray of sunshine had fallen
upon it.
"The Duke of Montmorency!" he cried in astonishment; "what has he to
do with the marriage of my daughter?"
James murmured something that may have been a prayer, but sounded
otherwise, as he turned to the girl, whose delight at thus mystifying
the great of earth was only too evident.
"I told him he little suspected who I was," said Madeleine, with what
might have been termed a giggle in one less highly placed; "but these
confident Scots think they know everything. Indeed, it is all your own
fault, father, in keeping me practically a prisoner, when the whole
castle is throbbing with joy and festivity." Then the irrepressible
princess buried her flushed face in her hands, and laughed and
laughed, as if this were the most irresistible comedy in the world,
instead of a grave affair of state, until at last the two monarchs
were forced to laugh in sympathy.
"I could not wish her a braver husband," said Francis at last. "I see
she has bewitched you as is her habit with all of us."
And thus it came about that James the Fifth of Scotland married the
fair Madeleine of France.
THE END
By A. Conan Doyle
THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES
A Sherlock Holmes Novel
Illustrated by Sidney Paget
_The London Chronicle_, in a review headed
"THE ZENITH OF SHERLOCK HOLMES,"
says:
"We should like to pay Dr. Doyle the highest compliment at our
command. It is not simply that this book is superior in originality
and construction to the earlier adventures of the great detective. Dr.
Doyle has provided a criminal who, as Mr. Holmes admits, is indeed a
foeman worthy of his steel.[A] Hitherto he has found it comparatively
easy to unmask his antagonists. But in the present case he finds
himself checkmated again and again. There is pitted against him a
skill nearly equal to his own, and he wins the game almost by a hair."
[Footnote A: "I tell you, Watson, this time we have a foeman who is
worthy of our steel."--_Sherlock Holmes._]
$1.25
McClure, Phillips & Co.
By George Douglas
THE HOUSE WITH THE GREEN SHUTTERS
The first novel of a new master. The work has gained wide-spread
recognition on both sides of the water. Three of the most conservative
and authoritative publications in England include it among the first
twelve of the year. In this country _Harper's Weekly_ gives it as one
of the two most interesting novels of the year.
_The critics differ as to with what other master George Douglas should
be compared:_
_The London Times_ says: "Worthy of the hand that drew 'Weir of
Hermiston,'" and that "Balzac and Flaubert, had they been Scotch,
would have written such a book."
_The Spectator:_ "His masters are Zola and Balzac, but there are few
traces of the novice and none of the imitator."
_Vanity Fair:_ "It moves to its end with all the terrible unity of an
AEschylean tragedy."
_Harper's Weekly:_ "If Thomas Hardy had written of Scotland, instead
of Wessex, it would have been something like 'The House with the Green
Shutters'.... If any man is his (Douglas') master it is Thomas Hardy."
Hardy, Stevenson, Zola, Flaubert, Balzac, and AEschylus.
Eighth Edition. $1.50.
McClure, Phillips & Co.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors;
otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's
words and intent.