惊婚记 英文版 Quentin Durward
瓦尔特.司各特 Sir Walter Scott
CHAPTER IX: THE BOAR HUNT
I will converse with unrespective boysAnd iron witted fools. None are for methat look into me with suspicious eyes.
KING RICHARD
All the experience which the Cardinal had been able to collectof his master's disposition, did not, upon the present occasion,prevent his falling into a great error of policy. His vanity inducedhim to think that he had been more successful in prevailing uponthe Count of Crevecoeur to remain at Tours, than any other moderatorwhom the King might have employed, would, in all probability,have been. And as he was well aware of the importance which Louisattached to the postponement of a war with the Duke of Burgundy, hecould not help showing that he conceived himself to have renderedthe King great and acceptable service. He pressed nearer to theKing's person than he was wont to do, and endeavoured to engagehim in conversation on the events of the morning.
This was injudicious in more respects than one, for princes lovenot to see their subjects approach them with an air conscious ofdeserving, and thereby seeming desirous to extort, acknowledgmentand recompense for their services; and Louis, the most jealousmonarch that ever lived, was peculiarly averse and inaccessible toany one who seemed either to presume upon service rendered or topry into his secrets.
Yet, hurried away, as the most cautious sometimes are, by the selfsatisfied humour of the moment, the Cardinal continued to rideon the King's right hand, turning the discourse, whenever it waspossible, upon Crevecoeur and his embassy which, although it mightbe the matter at that moment most in the King's thoughts, wasnevertheless precisely that which he was least willing to converseon. At length Louis, who had listened to him with attention, yetwithout having returned any answer which could tend to prolong theconversation, signed to Dunois, who rode at no great distance, tocome up on the other side of his horse.
"We came hither for sport and exercise," said he, "but the reverendFather here would have us hold a council of state."
"I hope your Highness will excuse my assistance," said Dunois; "Iam born to fight the battles of France, and have heart and handfor that, but I have no head for her councils."
"My Lord Cardinal hath a head turned for nothing else, Dunois,"answered Louis; "he hath confessed Crevecoeur at the Castle gate,and he hath communicated to us his whole shrift. -- Said you notthe whole?" he continued, with an emphasis on the word, and a glanceat the Cardinal, which shot from betwixt his long dark eyelashesas a dagger gleams when it leaves the scabbard.
The Cardinal trembled, as, endeavouring to reply to the King's jest,he said that though his order were obliged to conceal the secretsof their penitents in general, there was no sigillum confessionis(seal of confession) which could not be melted at his Majesty'sbreath.
"And as his Eminence," said the King, "is ready to communicatethe secrets of others to us, he naturally expects that we shouldbe equally communicative to him; and, in order to get upon thisreciprocal footing, he is very reasonably desirous to know if thesetwo ladies of Croye be actually in our territories. We are sorrywe cannot indulge his curiosity, not ourselves knowing in whatprecise place errant damsels, disguised princesses, distressedcountesses, may lie leaguer within our dominions, which are, wethank God and our Lady of Embrun, rather too extensive for us toanswer easily his Eminence's most reasonable inquiries. But supposingthey were with us, what say you, Dunois, to our cousin's peremptorydemand?"
"I will answer you, my Liege, if you will tell me in sincerity,whether you want war or peace," replied Dunois, with a franknesswhich, while it arose out of his own native openness and intrepidityof character, made him from time to time a considerable favouritewith Louis, who, like all astucious persons, was as desirous oflooking into the hearts of others as of concealing his own.
"By my halidome," said he, "I should be as well contented as thyself,Dunois, to tell thee my purpose, did I myself but know it exactly.But say I declared for war, what should I do with this beautifuland wealthy young heiress, supposing her to be in my dominions?"
"Bestow her in marriage on one of your own gallant followers, whohas a heart to love, and an arm to protect her," said Dunois.
"Upon thyself, ha!" said the King. "Pasques dieu! thou art morepolitic than I took thee for, with all thy bluntness."
King, with hisretinue, returned to the Castle.onwhich occasion.
"Nay," answered Dunois, "I am aught except politic. By our Ladyof Orleans, I come to the point at once, as I ride my horse at thering. Your Majesty owes the house of Orleans at least one happymarriage."
"And I will pay it, Count. Pasques dieu, I will pay it! -- See younot yonder fair couple?"
The King pointed to the unhappy Duke of Orleans and the Princess,who, neither daring to remain at a greater distance from the King,nor in his sight appear separate from each other, were riding sideby side, yet with an interval of two or three yards betwixt them,a space which timidity on the one side, and aversion on the other,prevented them from diminishing, while neither dared to increaseit.
Dunois looked in the direction of the King's signal, and asthe situation of his unfortunate relative and the destined bridereminded him of nothing so much as of two dogs, which, forciblylinked together, remain nevertheless as widely separated as thelength of their collars will permit, he could not help shaking hishead, though he ventured not on any other reply to the hypocriticaltyrant. Louis seemed to guess his thoughts.
"It will be a peaceful and quiet household they will keep -- notmuch disturbed with children, I should augur. But these are notalways a blessing."
(Here the King touches on the very purpose for which he pressedon the match with such tyrannic severity, which was that as thePrincess's personal deformity admitted little chance of its beingfruitful, the branch of Orleans, which was next in succession tothe crown, might be, by the want of heirs, weakened or extinguished)
It was, perhaps, the recollection of his own filial ingratitudethat made the King pause as he uttered the last reflection, andwhich converted the sneer that trembled on his lip into somethingresembling an expression of contrition. But he instantly proceededin another tone.
"Frankly, my Dunois, much as I revere the holy sacrament of matrimony"(here he crossed himself), "I would rather the house of Orleansraised for me such gallant soldiers as thy father and thyself, whoshare the blood royal of France without claiming its rights, thanthat the country should be torn to pieces, like to England, by warsarising from the rivalry of legitimate candidates for the crown.The lion should never have more than one cub."
Dunois sighed and was silent, conscious that contradicting hisarbitrary Sovereign might well hurt his kinsman's interests butcould do him no service; yet he could not forbear adding, in thenext moment,
"Since your Majesty has alluded to the birth of my father, I mustneeds own that, setting the frailty of his parents on one side, hemight be termed happier, and more fortunate, as the son of lawlesslove than of conjugal hatred."
"Thou art a scandalous fellow, Dunois, to speak thus of holy wedlock,"answered Louis jestingly. "But to the devil with the discourse,for the boar is unharboured. -- Lay on the dogs, in the name of theholy Saint Hubert! -- Ha! ha! tra-la-la-lira-la" -- And the King'shorn rang merrily through the woods as he pushed forward on thechase, followed by two or three of his guards, amongst whom wasour friend Quentin Durward. And here it was remarkable that, evenin the keen prosecution of his favourite sport, the King in indulgenceof his caustic disposition, found leisure to amuse himself bytormenting Cardinal Balue.
It was one of that able statesman's weaknesses, as we have elsewherehinted, to suppose himself, though of low rank and limited education,qualified to play the courtier and the man of gallantry. He didnot, indeed, actually enter the lists of chivalrous combat, likeBecket, or levy soldiers, like Wolsey. But gallantry, in which theyalso were proficients, was his professed pursuit; and he likewiseaffected great fondness for the martial amusement of the chase.Yet, however well he might succeed with certain ladies, to whomhis power, his wealth, and his influence as a statesman might atonefor deficiencies in appearance and manners, the gallant horses,which he purchased at almost any price, were totally insensibleto the dignity of carrying a Cardinal, and paid no more respect tohim than they would have done to his father, the carter, miller,or tailor, whom he rivalled in horsemanship. The King knew this,and, by alternately exciting and checking his own horse, he broughtthat of the Cardinal, whom he kept close by his side, into sucha state of mutiny against his rider, that it became apparent theymust soon part company; and then, in the midst of its starting,bolting, rearing, and lashing out, alternately, the royal tormentorrendered the rider miserable, by questioning him upon many affairsof importance, and hinting his purpose to take that opportunityof communicating to him some of those secrets of state which theCardinal had but a little while before seemed so anxious to learn.
say I declared for war, what should I do with this beautifuland wealthy young heiress, supposing her to be in my !
(In imputing to the Cardinal a want of skill in horsemanship, Irecollected his adventure in Paris when attacked by assassins, onwhich occasion his mule, being scared by the crowd, ran away withthe rider, and taking its course to a monastery, to the abbot ofwhich he formerly belonged; was the means of saving his master'slife. . . . S.)
A more awkward situation could hardly be imagined than that of aprivy councillor forced to listen to and reply to his sovereign,while each fresh gambade of his unmanageable horse placed him ina new and more precarious attitude -- his violet robe flying loosein every direction, and nothing securing him from an instant andperilous fall save the depth of the saddle, and its height beforeand behind. Dunois laughed without restraint; while the King, whohad a private mode of enjoying his jest inwardly, without laughingaloud, mildly rebuked his minister on his eager passion for thechase, which would not permit him to dedicate a few moments tobusiness.
"I will no longer be your hindrance to a course," continued he,addressing the terrified Cardinal, and giving his own horse therein at the same time.
Before Balue could utter a word by way of answer or apology, hishorse, seizing the bit with his teeth, went forth at an uncontrollablegallop, soon leaving behind the King and Dunois, who followed at amore regulated pace, enjoying the statesman's distressed predicament.If any of our readers has chanced to be run away with in his time(as we ourselves have in ours), he will have a full sense at onceof the pain, peril, and absurdity of the situation. Those fourlimbs of the quadruped, which, noway under the rider's control,nor sometimes under that of the creature they more properly belongto, fly at such a rate as if the hindermost meant to overtake theforemost; those clinging legs of the biped which we so often wishsafely planted on the greensward, but which now only augment ourdistress by pressing the animal's sides -- the hands which haveforsaken the bridle for the mane -- the body, which, instead ofsitting upright on the centre of gravity, as old Angelo (a celebratedriding and fencing master at the beginning of the nineteenthcentury) used to recommend, or stooping forward like a jockey's atNewmarket (the scene of the annual horse races has been at NewmarketHeath since the time of James I), lies, rather than hangs, crouchedupon the back of the animal, with no better chance of savingitself than a sack of corn -- combine to make a picture more thansufficiently ludicrous to spectators, however uncomfortable to theexhibiter. But add to this some singularity of dress or appearanceon the part of the unhappy cavalier -- a robe of office, a splendiduniform, or any other peculiarity of costume -- and let the sceneof action be a race course, a review, a procession, or any otherplace of concourse and public display, and if the poor wight wouldescape being the object of a shout of inextinguishable laughter,he must contrive to break a limb or two, or, which will be moreeffectual, to be killed on the spot; for on no slighter conditionwill his fall excite anything like serious sympathy. On the presentoccasion, the short violet coloured gown of the Cardinal, which heused as riding dress (having changed his long robes before he leftthe Castle), his scarlet stockings, and scarlet hat, with the longstrings hanging down, together with his utter helplessness, gaveinfinite zest to his exhibition of horsemanship.
The horse, having taken matters entirely into his own hand, flewrather than galloped up a long green avenue; overtook the pack inhard pursuit of the boar, and then, having overturned one or twoyeomen prickers, who little expected to be charged in the rear --having ridden down several dogs, and greatly confused the chase-- animated by the clamorous expostulations and threats of thehuntsman, carried the terrified Cardinal past the formidable animalitself, which was rushing on at a speedy trot, furious and embossedwith the foam which he churned around his tusks. Balue, on beholdinghimself so near the boar, set up a dreadful cry for help, which,or perhaps the sight of the boar, produced such an effect on hishorse, that the animal interrupted its headlong career by suddenlyspringing to one side; so that the Cardinal, who had long kept hisseat only because the motion was straight forward, now fell heavilyto the ground. The conclusion of Balue's chase took place so nearthe boar that, had not the animal been at that moment too muchengaged about his own affairs, the vicinity might have proved asfatal to the Cardinal, as it is said to have done to Favila, Kingof the Visigoths of Spain (he was killed by a bear while hunting).The powerful churchman got off, however, for the fright, and, crawlingas hastily as he could out of the way of hounds and huntsmen, sawthe whole chase sweep by him without affording him assistance, forhunters in those days were as little moved by sympathy for suchmisfortunes as they are in our own. The King, as he passed, saidto Dunois, "Yonder lies his Eminence low enough -- he is no greathuntsman, though for a fisher (when a secret is to be caught) hemay match Saint Peter himself. He has, however, for once, I think,met with his match."
The Cardinal did not hear the words, but the scornful look withwhich they were spoken led him to suspect their general import. Thedevil is said to seize such opportunities of temptation as were nowafforded by the passions of Balue, bitterly moved as they had beenby the scorn of the King. The momentary fright was over so soon ashe had assured himself that his fall was harmless; but mortifiedvanity, and resentment against his Sovereign, had a much longerinfluence on his feelings. After all the chase had passed him, asingle cavalier, who seemed rather to be a spectator than a partakerof the sport, rode up with one or two attendants, and expressedno small surprise to find the Cardinal upon the ground, withouta horse or attendants, and in such a plight as plainly showed thenature of the accident which had placed him there. To dismount,and offer his assistance in this predicament -- to cause one of hisattendants to resign a staid and quiet palfrey for the Cardinal'suse -- to express his surprise at the customs of the French Court,which thus permitted them to abandon to the dangers of the chase,and forsake in his need, their wisest statesman, were the naturalmodes of assistance and consolation which so strange a rencontresupplied to Crevecoeur, for it was the Burgundian ambassador whocame to the assistance of the fallen Cardinal.
He found the minister in a lucky time and humour for essaying someof those practices on his fidelity, to which it is well known thatBalue had the criminal weakness to listen. Already in the morning,as the jealous temper of Louis had suggested, more had passedbetwixt them than the Cardinal durst have reported to his master.But although he had listened with gratified ears to the high value,which, he was assured by Crevecoeur, the Duke of Burgundy placedupon his person and talents, and not without a feeling of temptation,when the Count hinted at the munificence of his master's disposition,and the rich benefices of Flanders, it was not until the accident,as we have related, had highly irritated him that, stung withwounded vanity, he resolved, in a fatal hour, to show Louis XI thatno enemy can be so dangerous as an offended friend and confidant.On the present occasions he hastily requested Crevecoeur to separatefrom him lest they should be observed, but appointed him a meetingfor the evening in the Abbey of Saint Martin's at Tours, after vesperservice; and that in a tone which assured the Burgundian that hismaster had obtained an advantage hardly to have been hoped forexcept in such a moment of exasperation. In the meanwhile, Louis,who, though the most politic Prince of his time, upon this, as onother occasions, had suffered his passions to interfere with hisprudence, followed contentedly the chase of the wild boar, whichwas now come to an interesting point. It had so happened that asounder (i.e., in the language of the period, a boar of only twoyears old), had crossed the track of the proper object of the chase,and withdrawn in pursuit of him all the dogs (except two or threecouples of old stanch hounds) and the greater part of the huntsmen.The King saw, with internal glee, Dunois, as well as others,follow upon this false scent, and enjoyed in secret the thoughtof triumphing over that accomplished knight in the art of venerie,which was then thought almost as glorious as war. Louis was wellmounted, and followed, close on the hounds; so that, when theoriginal boar turned to bay in a marshy piece of ground, there wasno one near him but the King himself. Louis showed all the braveryand expertness of an experienced huntsman; for, unheeding thedanger, he rode up to the tremendous animal, which was defendingitself with fury against the dogs, and struck him with his boarspear; yet, as the horse shied from the boar, the blow was not soeffectual as either to kill or disable him. No effort could prevailon the horse to charge a second time; so that the King, dismounting,advanced on foot against the furious animal, holding naked in hishand one of those short, sharp, straight, and pointed swords, whichhuntsmen used for such encounters. The boar instantly quitted thedogs to rush on his human enemy, while the King, taking his station,and posting himself firmly, presented the sword, with the purposeof aiming it at the boar's throat, or rather chest, withinthe collarbone; in which case, the weight of the beast, and theimpetuosity of its career, would have served to accelerate its owndestruction. But, owing to the wetness of the ground, the King'sfoot slipped, just as this delicate and perilous manoeuvre ought tohave been accomplished, so that the point of the sword encounteringthe cuirass of bristles on the outside of the creature's shoulder,glanced off without making any impression, and Louis fell flat onthe ground. This was so far fortunate for the Monarch, because theanimal, owing to the King's fall, missed his blow in his turn, andin passing only rent with his tusk the King's short hunting cloak,instead of ripping up his thigh. But when, after running a littleahead in the fury of his course, the boar turned to repeat his attackon the King at the moment when he was rising, the life of Louiswas in imminent danger. At this critical moment, Quentin Durward,who had been thrown out in the chase by the slowness of his horse,but who, nevertheless, had luckily distinguished and followed theblast of the King's horn, rode up, and transfixed the animal withhis spear.
The King, who had by this time recovered his feet, came in turn toDurward's assistance, and cut the animal's throat with his sword.Before speaking a word to Quentin, he measured the huge creaturenot only by paces, but even by feet -- then wiped the sweat fromhis brow, and the blood from his hands -- then took off his huntingcap, hung it on a bush, and devoutly made his orisons to the littleleaden images which it contained -- and at length, looking uponDurward, said to him, "Is it thou, my young Scot? -- Thou hast begunthy woodcraft well, and Maitre Pierre owes thee as good entertainmentas he gave thee at the Fleur de Lys yonder. -- Why dost thou notspeak? Thou hast lost thy forwardness and fire, methinks, at theCourt, where others find both."
Quentin, as shrewd a youth as ever Scottish breeze breathed cautioninto, had imbibed more awe than confidence towards his dangerousmaster, and was far too wise to embrace the perilous permissionof familiarity which he seemed thus invited to use. He answeredin very few and well chosen words, that if he ventured to addresshis Majesty at all, it could be but to crave pardon for the rusticboldness with which he had conducted himself when ignorant of hishigh rank.
"Tush! man," said the King; "I forgive thy sauciness for thy spiritand shrewdness. I admired how near thou didst hit upon my gossipTristan's occupation. You have nearly tasted of his handiworksince, as I am given to understand. I bid thee beware of him; he isa merchant who deals in rough bracelets and tight necklaces. Helpme to my horse; -- I like thee, and will do thee good. Build on noman's favour but mine -- not even on thine uncle's or Lord Crawford's-- and say nothing of thy timely aid in this matter of the boar;for if a man makes boast that he has served a King in such pinch,he must take the braggart humour for its own recompense."
The King then winded his horn, which brought up Dunois and severalattendants, whose compliments he received on the slaughter of sucha noble animal, without scrupling to appropriate a much greatershare of merit than actually belonged to him; for he mentionedDurward's assistance as slightly as a sportsman of rank, who,in boasting of the number of birds which he has bagged, does notalways dilate upon the presence and assistance of the gamekeeper.He then ordered Dunois to see that the boar's carcass was sent tothe brotherhood of Saint Martin, at Tours, to mend their fare onholydays, and that they might remember the King in their privatedevotions.
"And," said Louis, "who hath seen his Eminence my Lord Cardinal?Methinks it were but poor courtesy, and cold regard to Holy Churchto leave him afoot here in the forest."
"May it please you," said Quentin, when he saw that all were silent,"I saw his Lordship the Cardinal accommodated with a horse, onwhich he left the forest."
"Heaven cares for its own," replied the King. "Set forward to theCastle, my lords; we'll hunt no more this morning. -- You, SirSquire," addressing Quentin, "reach me my wood knife -- it hasdropt from the sheath beside the quarry there. Ride on, Dunois --I follow instantly."
Louis, whose lightest motions were often conducted like stratagems,thus gained an opportunity to ask Quentin privately, "My bonnyScot, thou hast an eye, I see. Canst thou tell me who helped theCardinal to a palfrey? -- Some stranger, I should suppose; for,as I passed without stopping, the courtiers would likely be in nohurry to do him such a timely good turn."
"I saw those who aided his Eminence but an instant, Sire," saidQuentin; "it was only a hasty glance, for I had been unluckilythrown out, and was riding fast to be in my place; but I think itwas the Ambassador of Burgundy and his people."
"Ha," said Louis. "Well, be it so. France will match them yet."
There was nothing more remarkable happened, and the King, with hisretinue, returned to the Castle.