惊婚记 英文版 Quentin Durward
瓦尔特.司各特 Sir Walter Scott
CHAPTER XI: THE HALL OF ROLAND
Painters show cupid blind -- Hath Hymen eyes?Or is his sight warp'd by those spectacleswhich parents, guardians, and advisers, lent him,That he may look through them on lands and mansions,On jewels, gold, and all such rich dotations,And see their value ten times magnified? --Methinks 't will brook a question.
THE MISERIES OF ENFORCED MARRIAGE
Louis XI of France, though the sovereign in Europe who was fondestand most jealous of power, desired only its substantial enjoyment;and though he knew well enough, and at times exacted strictly, theobservances due to his rank, he was in general singularly carelessof show.
With patience which most other princes would have considered asdegrading, and not without a sense of amusement, the Monarch ofFrance waited till his Life Guardsman had satisfied the keennessof a youthful appetite. It may be supposed, however, that Quentinhad too much sense and prudence to put the royal patience to a longor tedious proof; and indeed he was repeatedly desirous to breakoff his repast ere Louis would permit him.
"I see it in thine eye," he said good naturedly, "that thy courageis not half abated. Go on -- God and Saint Denis! -- charge again.I tell thee that meat and mass" (crossing himself) "never hinderedthe work of a good Christian man. Take a cup of wine; but mind thoube cautious of the wine pot -- it is the vice of thy countrymen aswell as of the English, who, lacking that folly, are the choicestsoldiers ever wore armour. And now wash speedily -- forget not thybenedicite, and follow me."
Quentin obeyed, and, conducted by a different but as maze-like anapproach as he had formerly passed, he followed Louis into the Hallof Roland.
"Take notice," said the King, imperatively, "thou hast never leftthis post -- let that be thine answer to thy kinsman and comrades-- and, hark thee, to bind the recollection on thy memory, I givethee this gold chain" (flinging on his arm one of considerablevalue). "If I go not brave myself, those whom I trust have everthe means to ruffle it with the best. But when such chains as thesebind not the tongue from wagging too freely, my gossip, L'Hermite,hath an amulet for the throat, which never fails to work a certaincure. And now attend. -- No man, save Oliver or I myself, entershere this evening; but ladies will come hither, perhaps from theone extremity of the hall, perhaps from the other, perhaps one fromeach. You may answer if they address you, but, being on duty, youranswer must be brief; and you must neither address them in yourturn, nor engage in any prolonged discourse. But hearken to whatthey say. Thine ears as well as thy hands are mine -- I have boughtthee, body and soul. Therefore, if thou hearest aught of theirconversation, thou must retain it in memory until it is communicatedto me, and then forget it. And, now I think better on it, it will bebest that thou pass for a Scottish recruit, who hath come straightdown from his mountains, and hath not yet acquired our most Christianlanguage. -- Right. -- So, if they speak to thee, thou wilt notanswer -- this will free you from embarrassment, and lead them toconverse without regard to your presence. You understand me. --Farewell. Be wary, and thou hast a friend."
The King had scarce spoken these words ere he disappeared behind thearras, leaving Quentin to meditate on what he had seen and heard.The youth was in one of those situations from which it is pleasanterto look forward than to look back; for the reflection that he hadbeen planted like a marksman in a thicket who watches for a stag,to take the life of the noble Count of Crevecoeur, had in it nothingennobling. It was very true that the King's measures seemed on thisoccasion merely cautionary and defensive; but how did the youth knowbut he might be soon commanded on some offensive operation of thesame kind? This would be an unpleasant crisis, since it was plain,from the character of his master, that there would be destructionin refusing, while his honour told him that there would be disgracein complying. He turned his thoughts from this subject of reflectionwith the sage consolation so often adopted by youth when prospectivedangers intrude themselves on their mind, that it was time enoughto think what was to be done when the emergence actually arrived,and that sufficient for the day was the evil thereof.
Quentin made use of this sedative reflection the more easily that thelast commands of the King had given him something more agreeable tothink of than his own condition. The Lady of the Lute was certainlyone of those to whom his attention was to be dedicated; and wellin his mind did he promise to obey one part of the King's mandate,and listen with diligence to every word that might drop from herlips that he might know if the magic of her conversation equalledthat of her music. But with as much sincerity did he swear tohimself, that no part of her discourse should be reported by himto the King which might affect the fair speaker otherwise thanfavourably.
Meantime, there was no fear of his again slumbering on his post.Each passing breath of wind, which, finding its way through theopen lattice, waved the old arras, sounded like the approach ofthe fair object of his expectation. He felt, in short, all thatmysterious anxiety and eagerness of expectation which is alwaysthe companion of love, and sometimes hath a considerable share increating it.
At length, a door actually creaked and jingled (for the doors evenof palaces did not in the fifteenth century turn on their hinges sonoiseless as ours); but, alas! it was not at that end of the hallfrom which the lute had been heard. It opened, however, and a femalefigure entered, followed by two others, whom she directed by a signto remain without, while she herself came forward into the hall. Byher imperfect and unequal gait, which showed to peculiar disadvantageas she traversed this long gallery, Quentin at once recognised thePrincess Joan, and with the respect which became his situation,drew himself up in an attitude of silent vigilance, and loweredhis weapon to her as she passed. She acknowledged the courtesy bya gracious inclination of her head, and he had an opportunity ofseeing her countenance more distinctly than he had in the morning.
There was little in the features of this ill fated Princess to atonefor the misfortune of her shape and gait. Her face was, indeed, byno means disagreeable in itself, though destitute of beauty; andthere was a meek impression of suffering patience in her large blueeyes, which were commonly fixed upon the ground. But besides thatshe was extremely pallid in complexion, her skin had the yellowishdiscoloured tinge which accompanies habitual bad health; and thoughher teeth were white and regular, her lips were thin and pale.The Princess had a profusion of flaxen hair, but it was so lightcoloured as to be almost of a bluish tinge; and her tire woman,who doubtless considered the luxuriance of her mistress's tressesas a beauty, had not greatly improved matters by arranging them incurls around her pale countenance, to which they added an expressionalmost corpse-like and unearthly. To make matters still worse, shehad chosen a vest or cymar of a pale green silk, which gave her,on the whole, a ghastly and even spectral appearance.
While Quentin followed this singular apparition with eyes in whichcuriosity was blended with compassion, for every look and motionof the Princess seemed to call for the latter feeling, two ladiesentered from the upper end of the apartment.
One of these was the young person who upon Louis's summons hadserved him with fruit, while Quentin made his memorable breakfastat the Fleur de Lys. Invested now with all the mysterious dignitybelonging to the nymph of the veil and lute, and proved, besides(at least in Quentin's estimation), to be the high born heiress ofa rich earldom, her beauty made ten times the impression upon himwhich it had done when he beheld in her one whom he deemed the daughterof a paltry innkeeper, in attendance upon a rich and humorous oldburgher. He now wondered what fascination could ever have concealedfrom him her real character. Yet her dress was nearly as simpleas before, being a suit of deep mourning, without any ornaments.Her headdress was but a veil of crape, which was entirely thrownback, so as to leave her face uncovered; and it was only Quentin'sknowledge of her actual rank, which gave in his estimation newelegance to her beautiful shape, a dignity to her step which hadbefore remained unnoticed, and to her regular features, brilliantcomplexion, and dazzling eyes, an air of conscious nobleness thatenhanced their beauty.
Had death been the penalty, Durward must needs have rendered tothis beauty and her companion the same homage which he had justpaid to the royalty of the Princess. They received it as those whowere accustomed to the deference of inferiors, and returned it withcourtesy; but he thought -- perhaps it was but a youthful vision-- that the young lady coloured slightly, kept her eyes on theground, and seemed embarrassed though in a trifling degree, as shereturned his military salutation. This must have been owing to herrecollection of the audacious stranger in the neighbouring turretat the Fleur de Lys; but did that discomposure express displeasure?This question he had no means to determine.
The companion of the youthful Countess, dressed like herself simplyand in deep mourning, was at the age when women are apt to clingmost closely to that reputation for beauty which has for years beendiminishing. She had still remains enough to show what the powerof her charms must once have been, and, remembering past triumphs,it was evident from her manner that she had not relinquished thepretensions to future conquests. She was tall and graceful, thoughsomewhat haughty in her deportment, and returned the salute ofQuentin with a smile of gracious condescension, whispering the nextinstant something into her companion's ear, who turned towards thesoldier as if to comply with some hint from the elder lady, butanswered, nevertheless, without raising her eyes. Quentin couldnot help suspecting that the observation called on the young ladyto notice his own good mien; and he was (I do not know why) pleasedwith the idea that the party referred to did not choose to look athim, in order to verify with her own eyes the truth of the observation.Probably he thought there was already a sort of mysterious connexionbeginning to exist between them, which gave importance to theslightest trifle.
This reflection was momentary, for he was instantly wrapped up inattention to the meeting of the Princess Joan with these strangerladies. She had stood still upon their entrance, in order to receivethem, conscious, perhaps, that motion did not become her well; andas she was somewhat embarrassed in receiving and repaying theircompliments, the elder stranger, ignorant of the rank of the partywhom she addressed, was led to pay her salutation in a manner ratheras if she conferred than received an honour through the interview.
"I rejoice," she said, with a smile which was meant to expresscondescension at once and encouragement, "that we are at lengthpermitted the society of such a respectable person of our own sexas you appear to be. I must say that my niece and I have had butlittle for which to thank the hospitality of King Louis. -- Nay,niece, never pluck my sleeve -- I am sure I read in the looks ofthis young lady sympathy for out situation. -- Since we came hither,fair madam, we have been used little better than mere prisoners;and after a thousand invitations to throw our cause and our personsunder the protection of France, the Most Christian King has affordedus at first but a base inn for our residence, and now a corner ofthis moth eaten palace, out of which we are only permitted to creeptowards sunset, as if we were bats or owls, whose appearance inthe sunshine is to be held matter of ill omen."
"I am sorry," said the Princess, faltering with the awkward embarrassmentof the interview, "that we have been unable, hitherto, to receiveyou according to your deserts. -- Your niece, I trust, is bettersatisfied?"
"Much -- much better than I can express," answered the youthfulCountess. "I sought but safety and I have found solitude and secrecybesides. The seclusion of our former residence, and the stillgreater solitude of that now assigned to us, augment, in my eye,the favour which the King vouchsafed to us unfortunate fugitives."
"Silence, my silly cousin," said the elder lady, "and let us speakaccording to our conscience, since at last we are alone with oneof our own sex -- I say alone, for that handsome young soldier isa mere statue, since he seems not to have the use of his limbs,and I am given to understand he wants that of his tongue, at leastin civilized language -- I say, since no one but this lady canunderstand us, I must own there is nothing I have regretted equalto taking this French journey. I looked for a splendid reception,tournaments, carousals, pageants, and festivals; instead of which,all has been seclusion and obscurity! and the best society whom theKing introduced to us, was a Bohemian vagabond, by whose agency hedirected us to correspond with our friends in Flanders. -- Perhaps,"said the lady, "it is his politic intention to mew us up hereuntil our lives' end, that he may seize on our estates, after theextinction of the ancient house of Croye. The Duke of Burgundy wasnot so cruel; he offered my niece a husband, though he was a badone."
"I should have thought the veil preferable to an evil husband,"said the Princess, with difficulty finding opportunity to interposea word.
"One would at least wish to have the choice, madam," replied thevoluble dame. "It is, Heaven knows, on account of my niece that Ispeak; for myself, I have long laid aside thoughts of changing mycondition. I see you smile, but by my halidome, it is true -- yetthat is no excuse for the King, whose conduct, like his person,hath more resemblance to that of old Michaud, the moneychanger ofGhent, than to the successor of Charlemagne."
"Hold!" said the Princess, with some asperity in her tone; "rememberyou speak of my father."
"Of your father!" replied the Burgundian lady, in surprise.
"Of my father," repeated the Princess, with dignity, "I am Joanof France. -- But fear not, madam," she continued, in the gentleaccent which was natural to her, "you designed no offence, and Ihave taken none. Command my influence to render your exile and thatof this interesting young person more supportable. Alas! it is butlittle I have in my power, but it is willingly offered."
something more agreeable tothink of than his own condition. The Lady of the .
Deep and submissive was the reverence with which the Countess Hamelinede Croye, so was the elder lady called, received the obliging offerof the Princess's protection. She had been long the inhabitant ofcourts, was mistress of the manners which are there acquired, andheld firmly the established rule of courtiers of all ages, who,although their usual private conversation turns upon the vices andfollies of their patrons, and on the injuries and neglect whichthey themselves have sustained, never suffer such hints to dropfrom them in the presence of the Sovereign or those of his family.The lady was, therefore, scandalised to the last degree at themistake which had induced her to speak so indecorously in presenceof the daughter of Louis. She would have exhausted herself inexpressing regret and making apologies, had she not been put tosilence and restored to equanimity by the Princess, who requested,in the most gentle manner, yet which, from a Daughter of France,had the weight of a command, that no more might be said in the wayeither of excuse or of explanation.
The Princess Joan then took her own chair with a dignity whichbecame her, and compelled the two strangers to sit, one on eitherhand, to which the younger consented with unfeigned and respectfuldiffidence, and the elder with an affectation of deep humility anddeference which was intended for such.
They spoke together, but in such a low tone that the sentinel couldnot overhear their discourse, and only remarked that the Princessseemed to bestow much of her regard on the younger and moreinteresting lady; and that the Countess Hameline, though speakinga great deal more, attracted less of the Princess's attention byher full flow of conversation and compliment, than did her kinswomanby her brief and modest replies to what was addressed to her.
The conversation of the ladies had not lasted a quarter of anhour, when the door at the lower end of the hall opened, and a manentered shrouded in a riding cloak. Mindful of the King's injunction,and determined not to be a second time caught slumbering, Quentininstantly moved towards the intruder, and, interposing between himand the ladies, requested him to retire instantly.
"By whose command?" said the stranger, in a tone of contemptuoussurprise.
"By that of the King," said Quentin, firmly, "which I am placedhere to enforce."
"Not against Louis of Orleans," said the Duke, dropping his cloak.
The young man hesitated a moment; but how enforce his orders againstthe first Prince of the Blood, about to be allied, as the reportnow generally went, with the King's own family?
"Your Highness," he said, "is too great that your pleasure shouldbe withstood by me. I trust your Highness will bear me witness thatI have done the duty of my post so far as your will permitted."
"Go to -- you shall have no blame, young soldier," said Orleans;and passing forward, paid his compliments to the Princess, with thatair of constraint which always marked his courtesy when addressingher.
He had been dining, he said, with Dunois, and understanding therewas society in Roland's Gallery, he had ventured on the freedom ofadding one to the number.
The colour which mounted into the pale cheek of the unfortunateJoan, and which for the moment spread something of beauty over herfeatures, evinced that this addition to the company was anythingbut indifferent to her. She hastened to present the Prince to thetwo Ladies of Croye, who received him with the respect due to hiseminent rank; and the Princess, pointing to a chair, requested himto join their conversation party.
The Duke declined the freedom of assuming a seat in such society;but taking a cushion from one of the settles, he laid it at the feetof the beautiful young Countess of Croye, and so seated himself,that, without appearing to neglect the Princess, he was enabled tobestow the greater share of his attention on her lovely neighbour.
At first, it seemed as if this arrangement rather pleasedthan offended his destined bride. She encouraged the Duke in hisgallantries towards the fair stranger, and seemed to regard them ascomplimentary to herself. But the Duke of Orleans, though accustomedto subject his mind to the stern yoke of his uncle when in theKing's presence, had enough of princely nature to induce him tofollow his own inclinations whenever that restraint was withdrawn;and his high rank giving him a right to overstep the ordinaryceremonies, and advance at once to familiarity, his praises of theCountess Isabelle's beauty became so energetic, and flowed with suchunrestrained freedom, owing perhaps to his having drunk a littlemore wine than usual -- for Dunois was no enemy to the worship ofBacchus -- that at length he seemed almost impassioned, and thepresence of the Princess appeared well nigh forgotten.
The tone of compliment which he indulged was grateful only toone individual in the circle; for the Countess Hameline alreadyanticipated the dignity of an alliance with the first Prince of theBlood, by means of her whose birth, beauty, and large possessionsrendered such an ambitious consummation by no means impossible, evenin the eyes of a less sanguine projector, could the views of LouisXI have been left out of the calculation of chances. The youngerCountess listened to the Duke's gallantries with anxiety andembarrassment, and ever and anon turned an entreating look towardsthe Princess, as if requesting her to come to her relief. But thewounded feelings and the timidity of Joan of France rendered herincapable of an effort to make the conversation more general; andat length, excepting a few interjectional civilities of the LadyHameline, it was maintained almost exclusively by the Duke himself,though at the expense of the younger Countess of Croye, whose beautyformed the theme of his high flown eloquence.
Nor must I forget that there was a third person, the unregardedsentinel, who saw his fair visions melt away like wax before thesun, as the Duke persevered in the warm tenor of his passionatediscourse. At length the Countess Isabelle de Croye made a determinedeffort to cut short what was becoming intolerably disagreeable toher, especially from the pain to which the conduct of the Duke wasapparently subjecting the Princess.
Addressing the latter, she said, modestly, but with some firmness,that the first boon she had to claim from her promised protectionwas, "that her Highness would undertake to convince the Dukeof Orleans that the ladies of Burgundy, though inferior in witand manners to those of France, were not such absolute fools asto be pleased with no other conversation than that of extravagantcompliment."
young Countess, withmore of reproof than she had yet ventured to use towards.
"I grieve, lady," said the Duke, preventing the Princess's answer,"that you will satirize, in the same sentence, the beauty of thedames of Burgundy and the sincerity of the Knights of France. Ifwe are hasty and extravagant in the expression of our admiration,it is because we love as we fight, Without letting cold deliberationcome into our bosoms, and surrender to the fair with the samerapidity with which we defeat the valiant."
"The beauty of our countrywomen," said the young Countess, withmore of reproof than she had yet ventured to use towards the highborn suitor, "is as unfit to claim such triumphs, as the valour ofthe men of Burgundy is incapable of yielding them."
"I respect your patriotism, Countess," said the Duke; "and the lastbranch of your theme shall not be impugned by me, till a Burgundianknight shall offer to sustain it with lance in rest. But forthe injustice which you have done to the charms which your landproduces, I appeal from yourself to yourself. -- Look there," hesaid, pointing to a large mirror, the gift of the Venetian republic,and then of the highest rarity and value, "and tell me, as youlook, what is the heart that can resist the charms there represented?"
The Princess, unable to sustain any longer the neglect of herlover, here sunk backwards on her chair with a sigh, which at oncerecalled the Duke from the land of romance, and induced the LadyHameline to ask whether her Highness found herself ill.
"A sudden pain shot through my forehead," said the Princess,attempting to smile; "but I shall be presently better."
Her increasing paleness contradicted her words, and induced theLady Hameline to call for assistance, as the Princess was about tofaint.
The Duke, biting his lip, and cursing the folly which could notkeep guard over his tongue, ran to summon the Princess's attendants,who were in the next chamber, and when they came hastily, with theusual remedies, he could not but, as a cavalier and gentleman, givehis assistance to support and to recover her. His voice, renderedalmost tender by pity and self reproach, was the most powerfulmeans of recalling her to herself, and just as the swoon was passingaway, the King himself entered the apartment.