惊婚记 英文版 Quentin Durward
瓦尔特.司各特 Sir Walter Scott
CHAPTER VII: THE ENROLMENT Page 2
"And hath she actually come hither alone, my lord?" said Lindesay.
"Nay, not altogether alone, but with the old Countess, her kinswoman,who hath yielded to her cousin's wishes in this matter."
"And will the King," said Cunningham, "he being the Duke's feudalsovereign, interfere between the Duke and his ward, over whomCharles hath the same right, which, were he himself dead, the Kingwould have over the heiress of Burgundy?"
"The King will be ruled as he is wont, by rules of policy, andyou know," continued Crawford, "that he hath not publicly receivedthese ladies, nor placed them under the protection of his daughters,the Lady of Beaujeu, or the Princess Joan, so, doubtless, he willbe guided by circumstances. He is our Master -- but it is no treasonto say, he will chase with the hounds, and run with the hare, withany prince in Christendom."
woman of Heathenesse,"retorted Le Balafre.justly the hour," said!
"But the Duke of Burgundy understands no such doubling;" saidCunningham.
"No," answered the old Lord; "and, therefore, it is likely to makework between them."
"Well -- Saint Andrew further the fray!" said Le Balafre. "I hadit foretold me ten, ay, twenty years since, that I was to makethe fortune of my house by marriage. Who knows what may happen, ifonce we come to fight for honour and ladies' love, as they do inthe old romaunts."
"Thou name ladies' love, with such a trench in thy visage!" saidGuthrie.
"As well not love at all, as love a Bohemian woman of Heathenesse,"retorted Le Balafre.
"Hold there, comrades," said Lord Crawford; "no tilting with sharpweapons, no jesting with keen scoffs -- friends all. And for thelady, she is too wealthy to fall to a poor Scottish lord, or I wouldput in my own claim, fourscore years and all, or not very far fromit. But here is her health, nevertheless, for they say she is alamp of beauty."
"I think I saw her," said another soldier, "when I was upon guardthis morning at the inner barrier; but she was more like a darklantern than a lamp, for she and another were brought into theChateau in close litters."
"Shame! shame! Arnot!" said Lord Crawford; "a soldier on duty shouldsay naught of what he sees. Besides," he added after a pause, hisown curiosity prevailing over the show of discipline which he hadthought it necessary to exert, "why should these litters containthis very same Countess Isabelle de Croye?"
Lindesay.prefer. -- Hark! is that not the Cathedral bell tolling tovespers.
"Nay, my Lord," replied Arnot, "I know nothing of it save this,that my coutelier was airing my horses in the road to the village,and fell in with Doguin the muleteer, who brought back the littersto the inn, for they belong to the fellow of the Mulberry Groveyonder -- he of the Fleur de Lys, I mean -- and so Doguin askedSaunders Steed to take a cup of wine, as they were acquainted,which he was no doubt willing enough to do."
"No doubt -- no doubt," said the old Lord; "it is a thing I wishwere corrected among you, gentlemen; but all your grooms, andcouteliers, and jackmen as we should call them in Scotland, arebut too ready to take a cup of wine with any one. -- It is a thingperilous in war, and must be amended. But, Andrew Arnot, thisis a long tale of yours, and we will cut it with a drink; as theHighlander says, Skeoch doch nan skial ('Cut a tale with a drink;'an expression used when a man preaches over his liquor, as bonsvivants say in England. S.); and that 's good Gaelic. -- Here is tothe Countess Isabelle of Croye, and a better husband to her thanCampobasso, who is a base Italian cullion! -- And now, Andrew Arnot,what said the muleteer to this yeoman of thine?"
"Why, he told him in secrecy, if it please your Lordship," continuedArnot, "that these two ladies whom he had presently before convoyedup to the Castle in the close litters, were great ladies, who hadbeen living in secret at his house for some days, and that theKing had visited them more than once very privately, and had donethem great honour; and that they had fled up to the Castle, as hebelieved, for fear of the Count de Crevecoeur, the Duke of Burgundy'sambassador, whose approach was just announced by an advancedcourier."
"Ay, Andrew, come you there to me?" said Guthrie. "Then I will besworn it was the Countess whose voice I heard singing to the lute,as I came even now through the inner court -- the sound came fromthe bay windows of the Dauphin's Tower; and such melody was thereas no one ever heard before in the Castle of Plessis of the Park.By my faith, I thought it was the music of the Fairy Melusina'smaking. There I stood -- though I knew your board was covered, andthat you were all impatient -- there I stood like --"
(The Fairy Melusina: a water fay who married a mortal on conditionthat she should be allowed to spend her Saturdays in deep seclusion.This promise, after many years, was broken, and Melusina, halfserpent, half woman, was discovered swimming in a bath. For thisbreach of faith on the part of her husband, Melusina was compelledto leave her home. She regularly returned, however, before the deathof any of the lords of her family, and by her wailings foretoldthat event. Her history is closely interwoven with the legends ofthe Banshee and Mermaid.)
"-- Like an ass, Johnny Guthrie," said his commander; "thy longnose smelling the dinner, thy long ears hearing the music, and thyshort discretion not enabling thee to decide which of them thoudidst prefer. -- Hark! is that not the Cathedral bell tolling tovespers? -- Sure it cannot be that time yet? The mad old sextonhas toll'd evensong an hour too soon."
"In faith, the bell rings but too justly the hour," said Cunningham;"yonder the sun is sinking on the west side of the fair plain."
"Ay," said the Lord Crawford, "is it even so? -- Well, lads, wemust live within compass. -- Fair and soft goes far -- slow firemakes sweet malt -- to be merry and wise is a sound proverb. --One other rouse to the weal of old Scotland, and then each man tohis duty."
The parting cup was emptied, and the guests dismissed -- the statelyold Baron taking the Balafre's arm, under pretence of giving himsome instructions concerning his nephew, but, perhaps, in reality,lest his own lofty pace should seem in the public eye less steadythan became his rank and high command. A serious countenance didhe bear as he passed through the two courts which separated hislodging from the festal chamber, and solemn as the gravity of ahogshead was the farewell caution with which he prayed Ludovic toattend his nephew's motions, especially in the matters of wenchesand wine cups.
Meanwhile, not a word that was spoken concerning the beautifulCountess Isabelle had escaped the young Durward, who, conductedinto a small cabin, which he was to share with his uncle's page,made his new and lowly abode the scene of much high musing. Thereader will easily imagine that the young soldier should build afine romance on such a foundation as the supposed, or rather theassumed, identification of the Maiden of the Turret, to whose layhe had listened with so much interest, and the fair cup bearer ofMaitre Pierre, with a fugitive Countess of rank and wealth, flyingfrom the pursuit of a hated lover, the favourite of an oppressiveguardian, who abused his feudal power. There was an interlude inQuentin's vision concerning Maitre Pierre, who seemed to exercisesuch authority even over the formidable officer from whose handshe had that day, with much difficulty, made his escape. At lengththe youth's reveries, which had been respected by little Will Harper,the companion of his cell, were broken in upon by the return of hisuncle, who commanded Quentin to bed, that he might arise betimesin the morning, and attend him to his Majesty's antechamber, towhich he was called by his hour of duty, along with five of hiscomrades.