惊婚记 英文版 Quentin Durward
瓦尔特.司各特 Sir Walter Scott
CHAPTER XV: THE GUIDE
He was a son of Egypt, as he told me,And one descended from those dread magicians,Who waged rash war, when Israel dwelt in Goshen,With Israel and her Prophet -- matching rodWith his, the son's of Levi's -- and encounteringJehovah's miracles with incantations,Till upon Egypt came the avenging Angel,And those proud sages wept for their first born,As wept the unletter'd peasant.
ANONYMOUS
The arrival of Lord Crawford and his guard put an immediate end tothe engagement which we endeavoured to describe in the last chapter,and the knight, throwing off his helmet, hastily gave the old Lordhis sword, saying, "Crawford, I render myself. -- But hither --and lend me your ear -- a word for God's sake -- save the Duke ofOrleans!"
"How! -- what? -- the Duke of Orleans!" exclaimed the Scottishcommander. "How came this, in the name of the foul fiend? It willruin the gallant with the King, for ever and a day."
"Ask no questions," said Dunois -- for it was no other than he-- "it was all my fault. See, he stirs. I came forth but to havea snatch at yonder damsel, and make myself a landed and a marriedman -- and see what is come on 't. Keep back your canaille -- letno man look upon him."
So saying, he opened the visor of Orleans, and threw water on hisface, which was afforded by the neighbouring lake.
Quentin Durward, meanwhile, stood like one planet struck (affectedby the supposed influence of the planets), so fast did new adventurespour in upon him. He had now, as the pale features of his firstantagonist assured him, borne to the earth the first Prince of theBlood in France, and had measured swords with her best champion,the celebrated Dunois, -- both of them achievements honourable inthemselves: but whether they might be called good service to theKing, or so esteemed by him, was a very different question.
The Duke had now recovered his breath, and was able to sit up andgive attention to what passed betwixt Dunois and Crawford, whilethe former pleaded eagerly that there was no occasion to mention inthe matter the name of the most noble Orleans, while he was readyto take the whole blame on his own shoulders, and to avouch thatthe Duke had only come thither in friendship to him.
Lord Crawford continued listening with his eves fixed on the ground,and from time to time he sighed and shook his head. At length hesaid, looking up, "Thou knowest, Dunois, that, for thy father'ssake, as well as thine own, I would full fain do thee a service."
"It is not for myself I demand anything," answered Dunois. "Thouhast my sword, and I am your prisoner -- what needs more? But itis for this noble Prince, the only hope of France, if God shouldcall the Dauphin. He only came hither to do me a favour -- in aneffort to make my fortune -- in a matter which the King had partlyencouraged."
"Dunois," replied Crawford, "if another had told me thou hadstbrought the noble Prince into this jeopardy to serve any purposeof thine own, I had told him it was false. And now that thou dostpretend so thyself, I can hardly believe it is for the sake ofspeaking the truth."
"Noble Crawford," said Orleans, who had now entirely recovered fromhis swoon, "you are too like in character to your friend Dunois,not to do him justice. It was indeed I that dragged him hither, mostunwillingly, upon an enterprise of harebrained passion, suddenlyand rashly undertaken. -- Look on me all who will," he added, risingup and turning to the soldiery, "I am Louis of Orleans, willing topay the penalty of my own folly. I trust the King will limit hisdispleasure to me, as is but just. -- Meanwhile, as a Child ofFrance must not give up his sword to any one -- not even to you,brave Crawford -- fare thee well, good steel."
So saying, he drew his sword from its scabbard, and flung it intothe lake. It went through the air like a stream of lightning, andsank in the flashing waters, which speedily closed over it. Allremained standing in irresolution and astonishment, so high wasthe rank, and so much esteemed was the character, of the culprit,while, at the same time, all were conscious that the consequencesof his rash enterprise, considering the views which the King hadupon him, were likely to end in his utter ruin.
Dunois was the first who spoke, and it was in the chiding tone ofan offended and distrusted friend: "So! your Highness hath judgedit fit to cast away your best sword, in the same morning when itwas your pleasure to fling away the King's favour, and to slightthe friendship of Dunois?"
"My dearest kinsman," said the Duke, "when or how was it in mypurpose to slight your friendship by telling the truth, when itwas due to your safety and my honour?"
"What had you to do with my safety, my most princely cousin, I wouldpray to know?" answered Dunois, gruffly. "What, in God's name, wasit to you, if I had a mind to be hanged, or strangled, or flung intothe Loire, or poniarded, or broke on the wheel, or hung up alivein an iron cage, or buried alive in a castle fosse, or disposed ofin any other way in which it might please King Louis to get rid ofhis faithful subject? -- (You need 'not wink and frown, and pointto Tristan l'Hermite -- I see the scoundrel as well as you do.)But it would not have stood so hard with me. -- And so much formy safety. And then for your own honour -- by the blush of SaintMagdalene, I think the honour would have been to have missed thismorning's work, or kept it out of sight. Here has your Highnessgot yourself unhorsed by a wild Scottish boy."
"Tut, tut!" said Lord Crawford, "never shame his Highness for that.It is not the first time a Scottish boy hath broke a good lance --I am glad the youth hath borne him well."
"I will say nothing to the contrary," said Dunois, "yet, had yourLordship come something later than you did, there might have beena vacancy in your band of Archers."
"Ay, ay," answered Lord Crawford, "I can read your handwritingin that cleft morion. Some one take it from the lad and give hima bonnet, which, with its steel lining, will keep his head betterthan that broken loom -- And let me tell your Lordship, that yourown armour of proof is not without some marks of good Scottishhandwriting. But, Dunois, I must now request the Duke of Orleans andyou to take horse and accompany me, as I have power and commissionto convey you to a place different from that which my goodwillmight assign you."
"May I not speak one word, my Lord of Crawford, to yonder fairladies?" said the Duke of Orleans.
"Not one syllable," answered Lord Crawford, "I am too much a friendof your Highness to permit such an act of folly."
Then addressing Quentin, he added, "You, young man, have done yourduty. Go on to obey the charge with which you are intrusted."
"Under favour, my Lord," said Tristan, with his usual brutalityof manner, "the youth must find another guide. I cannot do withoutPetit Andre, when there is so like to be business on hand for him."
"The young man," said Petit Andre, now coming forward, "has only tokeep the path which lies straight before him, and it will conducthim to a place where he will find the man who is to act as hisguide.
"I would not for a thousand ducats be absent from my Chief this dayI have hanged knights and esquires many a one, and wealthy Echevins(during the Middle Ages royal officers possessing a large measureof power in local administration), and burgomasters to boot -- evencounts and marquises have tasted of my handiwork but, a-humph" --he looked at the Duke, as if to intimate that he would have filledup the blank with "a Prince of the Blood!"
"Ho, ho, ho! Petit Andre, thou wilt be read of in Chronicle!"
"Do you permit your ruffians to hold such language in such apresence?" said Crawford, looking sternly to Tristan.
"Why do you not correct him yourself, my Lord?" said Tristan,sullenly.
"Because thy hand is the only one in this company that can beathim without being degraded by such an action."
"Then rule your own men, my Lord, and I will be answerable formine," said the Provost Marshal.
Lord Crawford seemed about to give a passionate reply, but as ifhe had thought better of it, turned his back short upon Tristan,and, requesting the Duke of Orleans and Dunois to ride one on eitherhand of him, he made a signal of adieu to the ladies, and said toQuentin, "God bless thee, my child, thou hast begun thy servicevaliantly, though in an unhappy cause."
He was about to go off when Quentin could hear Dunois whisper toCrawford, "Do you carry us to Plessis?"
"No, my unhappy and rash friend," answered Crawford, with a sigh,"to Loches."
"To Loches!" The name of a castle, or rather prison, yet moredreaded than Plessis itself, fell like a death toll upon the ear ofthe young Scotchman. He had heard it described as a place destinedto the workings of those secret acts of cruelty with which evenLouis shamed to pollute the interior of his own residence. Therewere in this place of terror dungeons under dungeons, some of themunknown even to the keepers themselves, living graves, to whichmen were consigned with little hope of farther employment duringthe rest of their life than to breathe impure air, and feed onbread and water. At this formidable castle were also those dreadfulplaces of confinement called cages, in which the wretched prisonercould neither stand upright nor stretch himself at length, aninvention, it is said, of the Cardinal Balue (who himself tenantedone of these dens for more than eleven years. S. De Comines, whoalso suffered this punishment, describes the cage as eight feetwide, and a foot higher than a man.). It is no wonder that thename of this place of horrors, and the consciousness that he hadbeen partly the means of dispatching thither two such illustriousvictims, struck so much sadness into the heart of the young Scotthat he rode for some time with his head dejected, his eyes fixedon the ground, and his heart filled with the most painful reflections.
As he was now again at the head of the little troop, and pursuingthe road which had been pointed out to him, the Lady Hameline hadan opportunity to say to him, "Methinks, fair sir, you regret thevictory which your gallantry has attained in our behalf?"
There was something in the question which sounded like irony, butQuentin had tact enough to answer simply and with sincerity.
"I can regret nothing that is done in the service of such ladiesas you are, but, methinks, had it consisted with your safety, Ihad rather have fallen by the sword of so good a soldier as Dunois,than have been the means of consigning that renowned knight andhis unhappy chief, the Duke of Orleans, to yonder fearful dungeons."
"It was, then, the Duke of Orleans," said the elder lady, turningto her niece. "I thought so, even at the distance from which webeheld the fray. -- You see, kinswoman, what we might have been,had this sly and avaricious monarch permitted us to be seen at hisCourt. The first Prince of the Blood of France, and the valiantDunois, whose name is known as wide as that of his heroic father. --This young gentleman did his devoir bravely and well, but methinks't is pity that he did not succumb with honour, since his illadvised gallantry has stood betwixt us and these princely rescuers"
The Countess Isabelle replied in a firm and almost a displeasedtone, with an energy, in short, which Quentin had not yet observedher use. She said, "but that I know you jest, I would say yourspeech is ungrateful to our brave defender, to whom we owe more,perhaps, than you are aware of. Had these gentlemen succeeded sofar in their rash enterprise as to have defeated our escort, isit not still evident, that, on the arrival of the Royal Guard, wemust have shared their captivity? For my own part, I give tears,and will soon bestow masses, on the brave man who has fallen, andI trust" (she continued, more timidly) "that he who lives willaccept my grateful thanks."
As Quentin turned his face towards her, to return the fittingacknowledgments, she saw the blood which streamed down on oneside of his face, and exclaimed, in a tone of deep feeling, "HolyVirgin, he is wounded! he bleeds! -- Dismount, sir, and let yourwound be bound!"
In spite of all that Durward could say of the slightness of hishurt he was compelled to dismount, and to seat himself on a bank,and unhelmet himself, while the Ladies of Croye, who, according toa fashion not as yet antiquated, pretended some knowledge of leechcraft, washed the wound, stanched the blood, and bound it with thekerchief of the younger Countess in order to exclude the air, forso their practice prescribed.
In modern times, gallants seldom or never take wounds for ladies'sake, and damsels on their side never meddle with the cure ofwounds. Each has a danger the less. That which the men escape willbe generally acknowledged, but the peril of dressing such a slightwound as that of Quentin's, which involved nothing formidable ordangerous, was perhaps as real in its way as the risk of encounteringit.
We have already said the patient was eminently handsome, and theremoval of his helmet, or more properly, of his morion, had sufferedhis fair locks to escape in profusion, around a countenance in whichthe hilarity of youth was qualified by a blush of modesty at onceand pleasure. And then the feelings of the younger Countess, whencompelled to hold the kerchief to the wound, while her aunt soughtin their baggage for some vulnerary remedy, were mingled at oncewith a sense of delicacy and embarrassment, a thrill of pity forthe patient, and of gratitude for his services, which exaggerated,in her eyes, his good mien and handsome features. In short,this incident seemed intended by Fate to complete the mysteriouscommunication which she had, by many petty and apparently accidentalcircumstances, established betwixt two persons, who, thoughfar different in rank and fortune, strongly resembled each otherin youth, beauty, and the romantic tenderness of an affectionatedisposition. It was no wonder, therefore, that from this momentthe thoughts of the Countess Isabelle, already so familiar to hisimagination, should become paramount in Quentin's bosom, nor thatif the maiden's feelings were of a less decided character, at leastso far as known to herself, she should think of her young defender,to whom she had just rendered a service so interesting, with moreemotion than of any of the whole band of high born nobles who hadfor two years past besieged her with their adoration. Above all,when the thought of Campobasso, the unworthy favourite of DukeCharles, with his hypocritical mien, his base, treacherous spirit,his wry neck and his squint, occurred to her, his portrait wasmore disgustingly hideous than ever, and deeply did she resolve notyranny should make her enter into so hateful a union.
In the meantime, whether the good Lady Hameline of Croye understoodand admired masculine beauty as much as when she was fifteen yearsyounger (for the good Countess was at least thirty-five, if therecords of that noble house speak the truth), or whether she thoughtshe had done their young protector less justice than she ought, inthe first view which she had taken of his services, it is certainthat he began to find favour in her eyes.
"My niece," she said, "has bestowed on you a kerchief for the bindingof your wound, I will give you one to grace your gallantry, and toencourage you in your farther progress in chivalry."
So saying, she gave him a richly embroidered kerchief of blue andsilver, and pointing to the housing of her palfrey, and the plumesin her riding cap, desired him to observe that the colours werethe same.
The fashion of the time prescribed one absolute mode of receivingsuch a favour, which Quentin followed accordingly by tying thenapkin around his arm, yet his manner of acknowledgment had moreof awkwardness, and loss of gallantry in it, than perhaps it mighthave had at another time, and in another presence, for though thewearing of a lady's favour, given in such a manner, was merelymatter of general compliment, he would much rather have preferredthe right of displaying on his arm that which bound the woundinflicted by the sword of Dunois.
Meantime they continued their pilgrimage, Quentin now riding abreastof the ladies, into whose society he seemed to be tacitly adopted.He did not speak much, however, being filled by the silentconsciousness of happiness, which is afraid of giving too strongvent to its feelings. The Countess Isabelle spoke still less, sothat the conversation was chiefly carried on by the Lady Hameline,who showed no inclination to let it drop, for, to initiate the youngArcher, as she said, into the principles and practice of chivalry,she detailed to him at full length the Passage of Arms at Haflinghem,where she had distributed the prizes among the victors.
Not much interested, I am sorry to say, in the description ofthis splendid scene, or in the heraldic bearings of the differentFlemish and German knights, which the lady blazoned with pitilessaccuracy, Quentin began to entertain some alarm lest he should havepassed the place where his guide was to join him -- a most seriousdisaster, from which, should it really have taken place, the veryworst consequences were to be apprehended.
While he hesitated whether it would be better to send back one ofhis followers to see whether this might not be the case, he heardthe blast of a horn, and looking in the direction from which thesound came, beheld a horseman riding very fast towards them. Thelow size, and wild, shaggy, untrained state of the animal, remindedQuentin of the mountain breed of horses in his own country, butthis was much more finely limbed, and, with the same appearance ofhardiness, was more rapid in its movements. The head particularly,which, in the Scottish pony, is often lumpish and heavy, was smalland well placed in the neck of this animal, with thin jaws, fullsparkling eyes, and expanded nostrils.
The rider was even more singular in his appearance than the horsewhich he rode, though that was extremely unlike the horses of France.Although he managed his palfrey with great dexterity, he sat withhis feet in broad stirrups, something resembling shovels, so shortin the leathers that his knees were well nigh as high as the pommelof his saddle. His dress was a red turban of small size, in whichhe wore a sullied plume, secured by a clasp of silver, his tunic,which was shaped like those of the Estradiots (a sort of troops whomthe Venetians at that time levied in the provinces on the easternside of their gulf), was green in colour, and tawdrily laced withgold, he wore very wide drawers or trowsers of white, though noneof the cleanest, which gathered beneath the knee, and his swarthylegs were quite bare, unless for the complicated laces which bounda pair of sandals on his feet, he had no spurs, the edge of hislarge stirrups being so sharp as to serve to goad the horse in avery severe manner. In a crimson sash this singular horseman worea dagger on the right side, and on the left a short crooked Moorishsword, and by a tarnished baldric over the shoulder hung the hornwhich announced his approach. He had a swarthy and sunburnt visage,with a thin beard, and piercing dark eyes, a well formed mouth andnose, and other features which might have been pronounced handsome,but for the black elf locks which hung around his face, and theair of wildness and emaciation, which rather seemed to indicate asavage than a civilized man.
"He also is a Bohemian!" said the ladies to each other. "Holy Mary,will the King again place confidence in these outcasts?"
"I will question the man, if it be your pleasure," said Quentin,"and assure myself of his fidelity as I best may."
Durward, as well as the Ladies of Croye, had recognised in this man'sdress and appearance the habit and the manners of those vagrantswith whom he had nearly been confounded by the hasty proceedingsof Trois Eschelles and Petit Andre, and he, too, entertained verynatural apprehensions concerning the risk of reposing trust in oneof that vagrant race.
"Art thou come hither to seek us?" was his first question. Thestranger nodded. "And for what purpose?"
"To guide you to the Palace of Him of Liege."
"Of the Bishop?"
The Bohemian again nodded.
"What token canst thou give me that we should yield credence tothee?"
"Even the old rhyme, and no other," answered the Bohemian,
"The page slew the boar,The peer had the gloire."
"A true token," said Quentin, "lead on, good fellow -- I will speakfarther with thee presently."
Then falling back to the ladies, he said, "I am convinced this manis the guide we are to expect, for he hath brought me a password,known, I think, but to the King and me. But I will discourse withhim farther, and endeavour to ascertain how far he is to be trusted."