There was an air of restrained excitement, importance and mystery among
the ladies at luncheon. They had got back to the house in time to have
their conclave before that meal, and everything was satisfactorily
settled. Lady Anningford, who had not accompanied them out shooting, had
thought out a whole scheme, and announced it upon their return amidst
acclamations.
They would represent as many characters as they could from the "Idylls
of the King," because the style would be such loose, hanging kinds of
garments, the maids could run up the long straight seams in no time. And
it would be so much more delightful, all to carry out one idea, than the
usual powdered heads and non-descript things people chose for such
impromptu occasions. It only remained to finally decide the characters.
She considered that Ethelrida should undoubtedly be _Guinevere_; but,
above all, Zara must be _Isolt_!
"Of course, of course!" they all cried unanimously, while Zara's eyes
went black. "_Tristram_ and _Isolt_! How splendid!"
"And I shall be _Brangaine_, and give the love potion," Lady Anningford
went on. "Although it does not come into the 'Idylls of the King,' it
should do so. It is just because Tennyson was so fearfully, respectably
Early Victorian! I have been looking all the real thing up in the 'Morte
d' Arthur' in the library, and in the beautiful edition of 'Tristram
and Yseult' in Ethelrida's room."
"How perfectly enchanting!" cried Lady Betty. "I must be the _Lady of
the Lake_--it is much the most dramatic part. And let us get the big
sword out of the armory for _Excalibur_! I can have it, and brandish it
as I enter the room."
"Oh, nonsense, Betty darling!" Ethelrida said. "You are the very picture
of _Lynette_, with your enchanting nose 'tiptilted like the tender petal
of a flower,' and your shameful treatment of poor Jimmy!"
And Lady Betty, after bridling a little, consented.
Then the other parts were cast. Emily should be _Enid_ and Mary,
_Elaine_, while Lady Melton, Lady Thornby and Mrs. Harcourt should be
the _Three Fair Queens_.
"I shall be _Ettarre_," said Lily Opie. "The others are all good and
dull; and I prefer her, because I am sure she wasn't! And certainly Lady
Highford must be _Vivien_! She is exactly the type, in one of her
tea gowns!"
Laura rather liked the idea of _Vivien_. It had _cachet_, she thought.
She was very fond of posing as a mysterious enchantress, the mystic
touch pleased her vanity.
So, of the whole party, only Zara did not feel content. Tristram might
think she had chosen this herself, as an advance towards him.
Then the discussion, as to the garments to be worn, began. Numbers of
ornaments and bits of tea-gowns would do. But with her usual practical
forethought, Lady Anningford had already taken time by the forelock, and
asked that one of the motors, going in to Tilling Green on a message,
should bring back all the bales of bright and light-colored merinos and
nunscloths the one large general shop boasted of.
And, amidst screams of delighted excitement from the girls, the immense
parcel was presently unpacked.
It contained marvels of white and creams, and one which was declared the
exact thing for _Isolt_. It was a merino of that brilliant violent shade
of azure, the tone which is advertised as "Rickett's Paris blue" for
washing clothes. It had been in the shop for years, and was unearthed
for this occasion--a perfect relic of later Victorian aniline dye.
"It will be simply too gorgeously wonderful, with just a fillet of gold
round her head, and all her adorable red hair hanging down," Lady
Anningford said to Ethelrida.
"We shan't have to wear a stitch underneath," Lady Betty announced
decidedly, while she pirouetted before a cheval glass--they were all in
Lady Anningford's room--with some stuff draped round her childish form.
"The gowns must have the right look, just long, straight things, with
hanging sleeves and perhaps a girdle. I shall have cream, and you, Mary,
as _Elaine_, must have white; but Emily had better have that mauve for
_Enid_, as she was married."
"Why must _Enid_ have mauve because she is married?" asked Emily, who
did not like the color.
"I don't know why," Lady Betty answered, "except that, if you are
married, you can't possibly have white, like Mary and me, who aren't.
People are quite different--after, and mauve is very respectable for
them," she went on. Grammar never troubled her little ladyship, when
giving her valuable opinion upon things and life.
"I think _Enid_ was a goose," said Emily, pouting.
"Not half as much as _Elaine_," said Mary. "She had secured her
_Geraint_, whereas _Elaine_ made a perfect donkey of herself over
_Lancelot_, who did not care for her."
"I like our parts much the best, Lily's and mine," said Lady Betty. "I
do give my Jim--Gareth?--a lively time, at all events! Just what I
should do, if it were in real life."
"What you do do, you mean, not what you would do, Minx!" said her aunt,
laughing.
And at this stage the shooters were seen advancing across the park, and
the band of ladies, full of importance, descended to luncheon.
Lady Anningford sat next the Crow and told him what they had decided, in
strict confidence, of course.
"We shall have the most delightful fun, Crow. I have thought it all out.
At dessert I am going to hand one of the gold cups in which we are going
to put a glass of some of the Duke's original old Chartreuse, to the
bridal pair, as if to drink their health; and then, when they have drunk
it, I am going to be overcome at the mistake of having given them a
love-potion, just as in the real story! You can't tell--it may bring
them together."
"Queen Anne, you wonder!" said the Crow.
"It is such a deliciously incongruous idea, you see," Lady Anningford
went on. "All of us in long pre-mediaeval garments, with floating hair,
and all of you in modern hunt coats! I should like to have seen Tristram
in gold chain armor."
The Crow grunted approval.
"Ethelrida is going to arrange that they go in to dinner together. She
is going to say it will be their last chance before they get to _King
Mark_. Won't it all be perfect?"
"Well, I suppose you know best," the Crow said, with his wise old head
on one side. "But they are at a ticklish pass in their careers, I tell
you. The balance might go either way. Don't make it too hard for them,
out of mistaken kindness."
"You are tiresome, Crow!" retorted Lady Anningford. "I never can do a
thing I think right without your warning me over it. Do leave it to me."
So, thus admonished, Colonel Lowerby went on with his luncheon.
Zara's eyes looked more stormy than ever, when her husband chanced to
see them. He was sitting nearly opposite her, and he wondered what on
earth she was thinking about. He was filled with a concentrated
bitterness from the events of the morning. Her utter indifference over
the Laura incident had galled him unbearably, although he told himself,
as he had done before, the unconscionable fool he was to allow himself
to go on being freshly wounded by each continued proof of her disdain of
him. Why, when he knew a thing, should he not be prepared for it? He had
a strong will; he _would_ overcome his emotion for her. He could, at
least, make himself treat her, outwardly with the same apparent insolent
indifference, as she treated him.
He made a firm resolve once again, he would not speak to her at all, any
more than he had done the last three days in Paris. He would accept the
position until the Wrayth rejoicings were over, and then he would
certainly make arrangements to go and shoot lions, or travel, or
something. There should be no further "perhaps" about it. Life, with the
agonizing longing for her, seeing her daily and being denied, was more
than could be borne.
There was something about Zara's type, the white, exquisite beauty of
her skin, her slenderly voluptuous shape, the stormy suggestion of
hidden passion in her slumberous eyes, which had always aroused
absolutely mad emotions in men. Tristram, who was a normal Englishman,
self-contained and reserved, and too completely healthy to be
highly-strung, felt undreamed-of sensations rise in him when he looked
at her, which was as rarely as possible. He understood now what was
meant by an obsession--all the states of love he had read of in French
novels and dismissed as "tommyrot." She did not only affect him with a
thrilling physical passion. It was an obsession of the mind as well. He
suffered acutely; as each day passed it seemed as if he could not bear
any more, and the next always brought some further pain.
They had actually only been married for ten days! and it seemed an
eternity of anguish to both of them, for different reasons.
Zara's nature was trying to break through the iron bands of her life
training. Once she had admitted to herself that she loved her husband,
her suffering was as deep as his, only that she was more practiced in
the art of suppressing all emotion. But it was no wonder that they both
looked pale and stern, and quite unbridal.
The sportsmen started immediately after lunch again, and the ladies
returned to their delightful work; and, when they all assembled for tea,
everything was almost completed. Zara had been unable to resist the
current of light-hearted gayety which was in the air, and now felt
considerably better; so she allowed Lord Elterton to sit beside her
after tea and pour homage at her feet, with the expression of an empress
listening to an address of loyalty from some distant colony; and the
Crow leant back in his chair and chuckled to himself, much to Lady
Anningford's annoyance.
"What in the world is it, Crow?" she said. "When you laugh like that, I
always know some diabolically cynical idea is floating in your head,
and it is not good for you. Tell me at once what you mean!"
But Colonel Lowerby refused to be drawn, and presently took Tristram off
into the billiard-room.
It was arranged that all the men, even the husbands, were to go down
into the great white drawing-room first, so that the ladies might have
the pleasure of making an entrance _en bande_, to the delight of every
one. And when this group of Englishmen, so smart in their scarlet hunt
coats, were assembled at the end, by the fireplace, footmen opened the
big double doors, and the groom of the chambers announced,
"Her Majesty, _Queen Guinevere_, and the Ladies of her Court."
And Ethelrida advanced, her fair hair in two long plaits, with her
mother's all-round diamond crown upon her head, and clothed in some
white brocade garment, arranged with a blue merino cloak, trimmed with
ermine and silver. She looked perfectly regal, and as nearly beautiful
as she had ever done; and to the admiring eyes of Francis Markrute, she
seemed to outshine all the rest.
Then, their names called as they entered, came Enid and Elaine, each
fair and sweet; and Vivien and Ettarre; then Lynette walking alone, with
her saucy nose in the air and her flaxen curls spread out over her cream
robe, a most bewitching sight.
Several paces behind her came the _Three Fair Queens_, all in
wonderfully contrived garments, and misty, floating veils; and lastly,
quite ten paces in the rear, walked _Isolt_, followed by her
_Brangaine_. And when the group by the fireplace caught sight of her,
they one and all drew in their breath.
For Zara had surpassed all expectations. The intense and blatant blue of
her long clinging robe, which would have killed the charms of nine women
out of ten, seemed to enhance the beauty of her pure white skin and
marvelous hair. It fell like a red shining cloak all round her, kept in
only by a thin fillet of gold, while her dark eyes gleamed with a new
excitement. She had relaxed her dominion of herself, and was allowing
the natural triumphant woman in her to have its day. For once in her
life she forgot everything of sorrow and care, and permitted herself to
rejoice in her own beauty and its effect upon the world before her.
"Jee-hoshaphat!" was the first articulate word that the company heard,
from the hush which had fallen upon them; and then there was a chorus of
general admiration, in which all the ladies had their share. And only
the Crow happened to glance at Tristram, and saw that his face was white
as death.
Then the two parties, about twenty people in all, began to arrive from
the other houses, and delighted exclamations of surprise at the splendor
of the impromptu fancy garments were heard all over the room, and soon
dinner was announced, and they went in.
"My Lord Tristram," Ethelrida had said to her cousin, "I beg of you to
conduct to my festal board your own most beautiful _Lady Isolt_.
Remember, on Monday you leave us for the realm of _King Mark_, so make
the most of your time!" And she turned and led forward Zara, and placed
her hand in his; she, and they all, were too preoccupied with excitement
and joy to see the look of deep pain in his eyes.
He held his wife's hand, until the procession started, and neither of
them spoke a word. Zara, still exalted with the spirit of the night,
felt only a wild excitement. She was glad he could see her beauty and
her hair, and she raised her head and shook it back, as they started,
with a provoking air.
But Tristram never spoke; and by the time they had reached the
banqueting-hall, some of her exaltation died down, and she felt a chill.
Her hair was so very long and thick that she had to push it aside, to
sit down, and in doing so a mesh flew out and touched his face; and the
Crow, who was watching the whole drama intently, noticed that he
shivered and, if possible, grew more pale. So he turned to his own
servant, behind his chair, who with some of the other valets, was
helping to wait, and whispered to him, "Go and see that Lord Tancred is
handed brandy, at once, before the soup."
And so the feast began.
On Zara's other hand sat the Duke, and on Tristram's, Brangaine--for so
she and Ethelrida had arranged for their later plan; and after the
brandy, which Tristram dimly wondered why he should have been handed, he
pulled himself together, and tried to talk; and Zara busied herself with
the Duke. She quite came out of her usual silence, and laughed, and
looked so divinely attractive that the splendid old gentleman felt it
all going to his head; and his thoughts wondered bluntly, how soon, if
he were his nephew, he would take her away after dinner and make love to
her all to himself! But these modern young fellows had not half the
mettle that he had had!
So at last dessert-time came, with its toasts for the _Queen Guinevere_.
And the bridal pair had spoken together never a word; and Lady
Anningford, who was watching them, began to fear for the success of her
plan. However, there was no use turning back now. So, amidst jests of
all sorts in keeping with the spirit of Camelot and the Table Round, at
last _Brangaine_ rose and, taking the gold cup in front of her, said,
"I, _Brangaine_, commissioned by her Lady Mother, to conduct the _Lady
Isolt_ safely to _King Mark_, under the knightly protection of the _Lord
Tristram_, do now propose to drink their health, and ye must all do
likewise, Lords and Ladies of Arthur's court." And she sipped her own
glass, while she handed the gold cup to the Duke, who passed it on to
the pair; and Tristram, because all eyes were upon him, forced himself
to continue the jest. So he rose and, taking Zara's hand, while he bowed
to the company, gave her the cup to drink, and then took it himself,
while he drained the measure. And every one cried, amidst great
excitement, "The health and happiness of _Tristram_ and _Isolt_!"
Then, when the tumult had subsided a little, _Brangaine_ gave a
pretended shriek.
"Mercy me! I am undone!" she cried. "They have quaffed of the wrong cup!
That gold goblet contained a love-potion distilled from rare plants by
the Queen, and destined for the wedding wine of _Isolt_ and _King Mark_!
And now the _Lord Tristram_ and she have drunk it together, by
misadventure, and can never be parted more! Oh, misery me! What have I
done!"
And amidst shouts of delighted laughter led by the Crow--in frozen
silence, Tristram held his wife's hand.
But after a second, the breeding in them both, as on their wedding
evening before the waiters, again enabled them to continue the comedy;
and they, too, laughed, and, with the Duke's assistance, got through the
rest of dinner, until they all rose and went out, two and two, the men
leading their ladies by the hand, as they had come in.
And if the cup had indeed contained a potion distilled by the Irish
sorceress Queen, the two victims could not have felt more passionately
in love.
But Tristram's pride won the day for him, for this one time, and not by
a glance or a turn of his head did he let his bride see how wildly her
superlative attraction had kindled the fire in his blood. And when the
dancing began, he danced with every other lady first, and then went off
into the smoking-room, and only just returned in time to be made to lead
out his "_Isolt_" in a final quadrille--not a valse. No powers would
have made him endure the temptation of a valse!
And even this much, the taking of her hand, her nearness, the sight of
the exquisite curves of her slender figure, and her floating hair,
caused him an anguish unspeakable, so that when the rest of the company
had gone, and good nights were said, he went up to his room, changed his
coat, and strode away alone, out into the night.