CHAPTER XVI.

THE GENERAL'S BANQUET.

I suppose it was not love only that enabled the Waldgrave to carry

himself so prudently at this time; but with it a sense of the peril in

which we all stood. He was so far from betraying this, however, that

no one could have worn an air more gallant or seemed in every way more

free from care. General Tzerclas had supplied us with a couple of

tailors, and there were rich stuffs to be bought in the camp; and the

young lord did not neglect these opportunities. When he came on the

morning of the great day to attend my lady to the banquet, he wore a

suit of dark-blue velvet with a falling collar of white lace, and sash

and points of lighter blue--the latter setting off his fair complexion

to advantage. His hair, which had grown somewhat, flowed from under a

broad-leafed hat decked with an ostrich feather, and he wore golden

spurs, and high boots with the tops turned down. As he caracoled up

and down before the house, with the sun shining on his fair head, he

looked to my eyes as beautiful as Apollo. What the women thought of

him, I do not know, but I saw my lady gazing at him from a window when

his back was turned, and then, again, when he looked towards the

house, she was gone. And I thought I knew what that meant.

She wore, herself, a grey riding-coat with a little silver braid about

it, and a silver belt; and we all made what show we could; so that

when we started to the general's quarters we were something to look

at. The camp itself nothing could cleanse, but the village had been

swept and the street watered. Pennons and cornets waved here and there

in the sunshine, and green boughs garnished the fronts of the houses.

Two tall poles, painted after the Venetian fashion and hung with

streamers, stood before the general's quarters, the windows of which

were almost hidden by a large trophy formed of glittering pikes and

flags of many colours. The road here was strewn with green rushes, and

opposite the house were ranked twelve trumpeters, who proclaimed my

lady's arrival with a blare which shook the village.

On either side of the door a guard of honour was drawn up. I was not

disposed to admire anything much, but it must be confessed that the

sun shining on pike and corselet and steel cap, and on all the gay and

gaudy colours and green leaves, produced a lively and striking effect.

The moment my lady's horse stopped, four officers stepped from the

doorway and stood at attention; after whom the general himself

appeared bare-headed, and held my lady's stirrup while she dismounted.

The Waldgrave performed a like service for Fraulein Anna, and I and

Jacob for Marie Wort and the women.

Our host first conducted my lady into a withdrawing-room, where were

only Count Waska and three colonels. This room, which was small, was

fitted with a rich carpet and chairs covered with Spanish leather, as

good as any my lady had in the castle at Heritzburg; and the walls

were hidden behind Cordovan hangings. Here among other things were a

large cage of larks and a strange, misshapen dwarf that stood hardly

as high as my waist-belt, but was rumoured to be forty years old. He

said several witty things to my lady, and one or two that I fancy the

general had taught him, for they brought the blood to her cheeks. On a

table stood another very rare and curious thing--a gold or silver-gilt

fountain that threw up distilled waters, and continually cooled and

sweetened the air. There were besides, gold cups and plates and

jewelled arms and Venice glass, which fairly dazzled me; so that as I

stood at the door with Jacob and the two maids I wondered at the

richness and splendour of everything, and yet could not get out of my

head the squalor of the hot, seething camp outside, and the poverty of

the country round, which the army had eaten as bare as my hand.

After a short interval spent in listening to the dwarfs quips and

cranks, General Tzerclas conducted my lady with much ceremony to the

next room, where the banquet was laid. The floor of this larger room

was strewn with scented rushes, the walls being adorned with trophies

of arms and heads of deer and wolves, peering from ambushes of green

leaves. At the upper end, where was the private door of entrance, was

a dais table laid for eight persons; below were tables for forty or

more. On the dais the general sat in the middle, having my lady on the

right, and next to her Count Waska; on his left he had the Waldgrave,

and beyond him Fraulein Anna. The two women stood behind my lady,

holding her fan and vinaigrette. At the lower end of the room the

general's band, placed in a kind of cage, played soft airs, while

between the courses a gipsy girl danced very prettily, and a juggler

diverted the company with his tricks.

As for the diversity of meats and fishes, and especially of birds,

which was set on, it surprised me beyond measure; nor can I understand

whence, in the wasted condition of the country, it was procured. For

wines, Burgundy, Frontignac, and Tokay were served at the high table,

and Rhine wines below. The courses continued to succeed one another

for nearly three hours, but such was the skill of the musicians that

the time seemed short. One man in particular won my lady's

approbation. He played on a new instrument, shaped somewhat like a

viol, but smaller and more roundly framed. Though it had three strings

only and was a trifle shrill, it had a wonderful power of touching the

heart, arousing the memory and producing a sweet melancholy. The

general would have had my lady accept it, and said that he could

easily procure another from the Milanese; but she declined gracefully,

on the ground that without the player it would be a dumb boon.

There was so much gaiety in all this--and decent observance too, for

the general's presence kept good order--that I did not wonder that my

lady's eyes sparkled and betrayed the gratification she felt. All was

for her, all in her honour. Even I, who looked at the scene through

green glasses and could not hear a word the general said without

striving to place some ill construction on it--even I felt myself

somewhat carried away, when the first toast, that of the Emperor, was

given in the midst of cheering, partly serious, partly ironical. It

was followed by that of the Elector of Saxony. The King of Sweden came

next, and was received in an equally equivocal manner. Not so,

however, the fourth, which was given by General Tzerclas standing,

with his plumed hat in his hand.

'All in Tokay!' he cried in his deep voice. 'The most noble and

high-born, the Countess Rotha of Heritzburg, who honours us with her

presence! Hoch! Hoch! Hoch!'

And draining his goblet, which was of green Nuremberg glass, and of no

mean value, he dashed it to the floor, an example which was

immediately followed by all present, so that the crash of glass and

clang of sword-hilts filled the room with high-pitched sounds that

seemed to intoxicate the ear.

My lady rose and bowed thrice, with her cheek crimson and her eyes

soft. Then she turned to retire, while all remained standing. The

general accompanied her as far as the door of the withdrawing-room,

the Waldgrave following with Fraulein Anna; while the dwarf marched

side by side with me, keeping step with an absurd gravity which filled

the room with laughter. On the threshold the general and his

companions left us with low bows; but in a trice Tzerclas came back to

say a word in my ear.

'See to the other door,' he muttered, flashing a grim look at me.

'There may be deep drinking. If any offer so much as a word of

rudeness here, he shall hang, drunk or sober. Have a care, therefore,

that no one has the chance.'

Then my heart sank, for I knew, hearing his tone and seeing his face,

as he said that, that Fraulein Anna was right. He loved my mistress.

He loved her! I went away to my place by the door, feeling as if he

had struck me in the face. For if she loved him in return that were

bad enough; and if she did not, what then, seeing that we were in his

power?

Certainly he had omitted nothing on this occasion that might charm

her. I thought the feast over; but in the withdrawing-room a fresh

collation of dainty sweets and syrups awaited my lady, with a great

gold bowl of rosewater. The man, too, who had played on the Italian

viol brought it in, that she might see and examine it more closely.

From my post at the door, I saw Fraulein Anna flitting about, bringing

her short-sighted eyes down to everything, thrusting her face into the

rose-water, and peering at the weapons and stuffs as if she would eat

them. All the while, too, I could hear her prattling ceaseless praise

of everything--the general's taste, the general's wealth, his

generosity, his skill in Latin, his love for Caesar--the fat book I had

seen him studying by the fire--above all, his appreciation of Voetius,

of whom I shrewdly believe he had never heard before.

My lady sat almost silent under the steady shower of words, listening

and thinking, and now and then touching the strings of the viol which

lay forgotten on her lap. Perhaps she was dreaming of her two

admirers, perhaps only giving ear to the growing tumult in the room we

had left, where the revellers were still at their wine. By-and-by we

heard them break into song, and then in thunder the chorus came

rolling out--

'Hoch! Who rides with old Pappenheim knee to knee

The sword is his title, the world is his fee!

He knows nor Monarch, nor Sire, nor clime

Who follows the banner of bold Pappenheim!'

My lady's lip curled. 'Is there no one on our side they can sing?' she

muttered, tapping the viol impatiently with her fingers. 'Have we no

heroes? Has Count Bernard never headed a charge or won a fight?

Pappenheim? I am tired of the man.'

The note jarred on her, as it had on me when I first heard these men,

paid by the north, singing the praises of the great southern raider.

But a moment later she turned her head to hear better, and her face

grew thoughtful. A great shout of 'Waska! Waska!' rang above the

jingling of glasses and snatches of song; and then, 'The Waldgrave!

The Waldgrave!' This time the cry was less boisterous, the voices were

fewer.

My lady turned to me. 'What is it?' she said, a note of anxiety in her

voice.

I was unable to tell her and I listened. By-and-by a roar of laughter

made itself heard, and was followed by a cry of 'Waska!' as before.

And then, 'The Thuringian Code! The Thuringian Code! It is his turn!'

'They are drinking, your excellency,' I said reluctantly. 'It is a

drinking match, I think!'

She rose with a grand gesture, and set the little viol back on the

table. 'I am going,' she said, almost fiercely. 'Let the horses be

called.'

Fraulein Max looked scared, but my lady's face forbade argument or

reply; and for my part I was not a whit unwilling. I turned and gave

the order to Jacob. While he was away the Countess remained standing,

tapping the floor with her foot.

'On this day--on this day they might have abstained!' she muttered

wrathfully, as the chorus of riot and laughter grew each moment louder

and wilder.

I thought so too, and was glad besides of anything which might work a

breach between her and the general. But I little knew what was going

to happen. It came upon us while we waited, with no more warning than

I have described. The door by which we had left the banqueting chamber

flew suddenly open, and three men, borne in on a wave of cheering and

uproar, staggered in upon us, the leader reeling under the blows which

his applauding followers rained upon his shoulders.

'There! Said I not so?' he cried thickly, lurching to one side to

escape them, and almost falling. 'Where ish your Waska. Your Waska now

I'd like to know! Waska is great, but I am--greater--greater, you see.

I can shoot, drink, fight, and make love better than any man here! Eh!

Who shays I can't? Eh? Itsh the Countesh! My cousin the Countesh! Ah!'

Alas, it was the Waldgrave! And yet not the Waldgrave. This man's face

was pale and swollen and covered with perspiration. His eyes were

heavy and sodden, and his hair strayed over them. His collar and his

coat were open at the neck, and his sash and the front of his dress

were stained and reeking with wine. His hands trembled, his legs

reeled, his tongue was too large for his mouth. He smiled fatuously at

us. Yet it _was_ the Waldgrave--drunk!

My lady's face froze as she looked at him. She raised her hand, and

the men behind him fell back abashed and left him standing there,

propping himself uncertainly against the wall.

'Well, your excellenshy,' he stuttered with a hiccough--the sudden

silence surprised him--'you don't congratulatsh me! Waska is under

table. Under table, I shay!'

My lady looked at him, her eyes blazing with scorn. But she said

nothing; only her fingers opened and closed convulsively. I turned to

see if Jacob had come back. He entered at that moment and General

Tzerclas with him.

'Your excellency's horses are coming,' the general said in his usual

tone. Then he saw the Waldgrave and the open door, and he started with

surprise. 'What is this?' he said. His face was flushed and his eyes

were bright. But he was sober.

The drunken man tried to straighten himself. 'Ashk Waska!' he said.

Alas! his good looks were gone. I regarded him with horror, I knew

what he had done.

'The horses?' the general muttered.

My lady drew a deep breath, as a person recovering consciousness does,

and turned slowly towards him. 'Yes,' she said, shuddering from head

to foot, 'if you please. I wish to go.'

The young lord heard the horses come to the door, and staggered

forward. 'Yesh, letsh go. I'll go too,' he stuttered with a foolish

laugh. 'Letsh all go. Except Waska! He is under the table. Letsh all

go, I say! Eh? Whatsh thish?'

I pushed him back and held him against the wall while the general led

my lady out. But, oh the pity of it, the wrath, the disappointment

that filled my breast as I did so! This was the end of my duel! This

was the stay to which I had trusted! The Waldgrave's influence with my

lady? It was gone--gone as if it had never been. A spider's web, a

rope of sand, a straw were after this a stronger thing to depend upon,

a more sure safeguard, a stouter holdfast for a man in peril!

* * * * *

He came to my lady next morning about two hours after sunrise, when

the dew was still on the grass and the birds--such as had lost their

first broods or were mating late--were in full song. The camp was

sleeping off its debauch, and the village street was bright and empty,

with a dog here and there gnawing a bone, or sneaking round the corner

of a building. My lady had gone out early to the fallen tree with her

psalm book; and was sitting there in the freshness of the morning,

with her back to the house and the street, when his shadow fell across

the page and she looked up and saw him.

She said 'good morning' very coldly, and he for a moment said nothing,

but stood, sullenly making a hole in the dust with his toe and looking

down at it. His face was pale, where it was not red with shame, and

his eyes were heavy and dull; but otherwise the wine he had taken had

left no mark on his vigorous youth.

My lady after speaking looked down at her book again, and he continued

to stand before her like a whipped schoolboy, stealing every now and

then a furtive look at her. At length she looked up again.

'Do you want anything?' she said.

This time he returned her gaze, with his face on fire, trying to melt

her. And I think that there were not many more unhappy men at that

moment than he. His fancy, liking, love were centred in the woman

before him; in a mad freak he had outraged, insulted, estranged her.

He did not know what to do, how to begin, what plan to put forward. He

could for the moment only look, with shame and misery in his face.

It was a plea that would have melted many, but my lady only grew

harder. 'Did you hear me?' she said proudly. 'Do you want anything?'

'You know!' he cried impetuously, and his voice broke out fiercely and

seemed to beat against her impassiveness as a bird against the bars of

its cage. 'I was a beast last night. But, oh, Rotha, forgive me.'

'I think that we had better not talk about it,' my lady answered him

stonily. 'It is past, and we need not quarrel over it. I shall be

wiser next time,' she added. 'That is all.'

'Wiser?' he muttered.

'Yes; wiser than to trust myself to your protection,' she replied

ruthlessly.

He shrank back as if she had struck him, and for a moment pain and

rage brought the blood surging to his cheeks. He even took a step as

if to leave her; but when love and pride struggle in a young man, love

commonly has it, and he turned again and stood hesitating, the picture

of misery.

'Is that all you will say to me?' he muttered, his voice unsteady.

My lady moved her feet uneasily. Then she shut her book, and looked

round as if she would have willingly escaped. But she was not stone;

and when at length she turned to him, her face was changed.

'What do you want me to say?' she asked gently.

'That some day you will forgive me.'

'I forgive you now,' she rejoined firmly. 'But I cannot forget. I do

not think I ever can,' she went on. 'Last night I was in your charge

among strangers. If danger had arisen, whose arm was to shield me, if

not yours? If any had insulted me, to whom was I to look, if not to

you? Yes, you may well hide your face,' my lady continued, waxing

bitter, despite herself. 'I am not at Heritzburg now, and you should

have remembered that. I am here with scanty protection, with few means

to exact respect, a refugee, if you like, a mark for scandal, and your

kinswoman. And you? for shame, Rupert!'

He fell on his knees and seized her hand. 'You are killing me!' he

cried in a choking voice, his face pale, his breath coming quickly.

'For I love you, Rotha, I love you! And every word of reproach you

utter is death to me.'

'Hush, Rupert!' she said quickly. And she tried to withdraw her hand.

He had taken her by surprise.

But he was not to be silenced; he kept her hand, though he rose to his

feet. 'It is true,' he answered. 'I have waited long enough. I must

speak now, or it may be too late. I tell you, I love you!'

The Countess's face was crimson, her brow dark with vexation. 'Hush!'

she said again, and more imperatively. 'I have heard enough. It is

useless.'

'You have not heard me!' he answered. 'Don't say so until you have

heard me.' And he sat down suddenly on the tree beside her, and looked

into her face with pleading eyes. 'You are letting last night weigh

against me,' he went on. 'If that be all, I will never drink more than

three cups of wine at a time as long as I live. I swear it.'

She shook her head rather sadly. 'That is not all, Rupert,' she said.

'Then what will you have?' he answered eagerly. He saw the change in

her, and his eyes began to burn with hope as he looked. Her milder

tone, her downcast head, her altered aspect, all encouraged him. 'I

love you, Rotha!' he cried, raising her hand to his lips. 'What more

will you have? Tell me. All I have, and all I ever shall have--and I

am young and may do great things--are yours. I have been riding behind

you day by day, until I know every turn of your head, and every note

of your voice. I know your step when you walk, and the rustle of your

skirt among a hundred! And there is no other woman in the world for

me! What if I am the youngest cadet of my house?' he continued,

leaning towards her; 'this war will last many a year yet, and I will

carve you a second county with my sword. Wallenstein did. Who was he?

A simple gentleman. Now he is Duke of Friedland. And that Englishman

who married a king's sister? They succeeded, why should not I? Only

give me your love, Rotha! Trust me; trust me once more and always, and

I will not fail you.'

He tried to draw her nearer to him, but the Countess shook her head,

and looked at him with tears in her eyes. 'Poor boy,' she said slowly.

'Poor boy! I am sorry, but it cannot be. It can never be.'

'Why?' he cried, starting as if she had stung him.

'Because I do not love you,' she said.

He dropped her hand and sat glaring at her. 'You are thinking of last

night!' he muttered.

She shook her head. 'I am not,' she said simply. 'I suppose that if I

loved you, that and worse would go for nothing. But I do not.'

Her calmness, her even tone went to his heart and chilled it. He

winced, and uttering a low cry turned from her and hid his face in his

hands.

'Why not?' he said thickly, after an interval. 'Why can you not love

me?'

'Why does the swallow nest here and not there?' the Countess answered

gently. 'I do not know. Why did my father love a foreigner and not one

of his own people? I do not know. Neither do I know why I do not love

you. Unless,' she added, with rising colour, 'it is that you are

young, younger than I am; and a woman turns naturally to one older

than herself.'

Her words seemed to point so surely to General Tzerclas that the young

man ground his teeth together. But he had not spirit to turn and

reproach her then; and after remaining silent for some minutes, he

rose.

'Good-bye,' he said in a broken voice. And he lifted her hand to his

lips and kissed it.

The Countess started. The words, the action impressed her

disagreeably. 'You are not going--away I mean?' she said.

'No,' he answered slowly. 'But things are--changed. When we meet again

it will be as----'

'Friends!' she cried, her voice tender almost to yearning. 'Say it

shall be so. Let it be so always. You will not leave me alone here?'

'No,' he said simply, and with dignity. 'I shall not.'

Then he went away, quite quietly; and if the beginning of the

interview had shown him to small advantage, the same could not be said

of the end. He went down the street and through the camp with his head

on his breast and a mist before his eyes. The light was gone out of

the sunshine, the greenness from the trees. The day was grey and

dreary and miserable. The blight was on all he saw. So it is with men.

When they cannot have that which seems to them the best and fairest

and most desirable thing in the world, nothing is good or pleasant or

to be desired any longer.

My Lady Rotha: A Romance · 第 16 / 36 章