"And now you are impertinent," she declared hotly.
"Impertinent," he said quietly, even though the merry, gently mockingglance still lingered in his eyes, "impertinent because I decline tolook on the present situation as a tragedy? How can I do that, Madonna,since it gives me the opportunity of spending an evening alone withyou?"
"You might have done that yesterday and saved me much humiliation," sheretorted.
"Yesterday I was a fool, Madonna," he said. "To-day I have become awise man."
"What hath changed you?"
"Ten minutes of your company in the dining-hall last night."
She made no reply, glad enough that at this moment twilight was alreadyfading into dusk. In the ingle-nook where they sat, there was hardlyany light now save the glow of the fire. Anon the buxom, sad-eyedhostess came in carrying a lamp which she placed on one of the tables inthe _tapperij_. She seemed to know--by that subtle instinct whichpertains to every woman's heart--that the seignior and his noble ladydid not wish to be disturbed. This was not the busy hour at the hostel:in about an hour's time, the soldiers off duty would be coming in, andthe shopkeepers from their shops after their day's work; but just nowthere was no one, so the kindly old soul having so placed the lamp thata beneficent shadow still enveloped the ingle-nook, quietly tip-toed outof the room.
II
Several minutes went by before Lenora was able to shake off the curioustorpor which had fallen over her senses: nor could she in any wayaccount for the sweet feeling of well-being which accompanied it. Shehad made no reply to Mark's last words, nor did she make any now. Shelay back in her chair with eyes half closed, feeling, knowing that hewas looking at her unceasingly, with that intent, searching gaze of hiswhich she had encountered once or twice before. She felt as if he weretrying to reach her very soul--he, the careless ne'er-do-well, thedissolute frequenter of taverns--what did he care for a woman's soul?
And yet it seemed impossible for Lenora at this moment to disguise fromthat searching gaze all those terrible conflicts which had literallybeen tearing her heart asunder in the past few hours--nay, more! itseemed as if the very letter which lay inside the folds of her kerchiefaddressed to her father must be lying open before her husband's eyes andthat he was reading it even now.
The feeling became akin to a sweet obsession, and gradually she allowedher senses to yield themselves to its soothing influence. After all hadshe not been sure that sooner or later God would make His will manifestto her? had she not prayed for guidance? had she not hoped all themorning that something would prevent her journey to Brussels? Contentto leave everything in God's hands she had yet hoped that God wouldpoint the way to which her own heart was tending.
And now, circumstances had suddenly occurred which did impede thejourney--the horse had cast a shoe, the provost at the gate had provedofficious, the hour had slipped by and no horse was forthcoming.
Given the absolute simplicity of the girl's religious thoughts, herupbringing, the superstition which underlay all beliefs in the oldtenets of the Church during this period of stress and struggle throughwhich she was groping her way through darkness into light: givenLenora's pure nature and the proud humility which acceptedunquestioningly all the commands of those whom she had been taught toreverence, was it to be wondered at that while she was quite ready to doher duty, she should nevertheless hope and think that she had at lastreceived a distinct, supernatural sign that her journey to Brussels wasnot one of those decrees of God before which everything on earth mustbow and every obstacle be removed?
But even then--in spite of her wishes and her hopes--she fought on tothe last and refused to yield to the sweet, insistent call of peace andof sentiment. What she took to be a sign from God might easily be aninsidious machination of the devil. There was a quaint look of gentleamusement in Mark's eyes, which was certainly disquieting, and it wasjust possible that it was he who had--wittingly or unwittingly--assumedthe role of a guiding Providence in the matter.
Therefore she steeled her heart against those subtle whisperings whichseemed to lure her on every side to give up the fight, to allow herselfto drift on the soothing wave which even now was carrying her to ahaven, where all was peace and quietude and where there was neitherstrife nor intrigue.
"Messire," she said abruptly and as repellently as she could, "I prayyou enlighten mine ignorance. How many cowardly deeds of this sortstand to your discredit?"
He smiled quite unperturbed: "You think me an adept?" he asked quietly.
"You are not ashamed?" she retorted.
"Not in the least. What have I done?"
"Insulted me at every turn," she said very calmly. "What is thisdetention---here, alone with you, in this strange town, away even fromthe protection of my own serving wench--what is it but an insult? Youhave shown me plainly enough, by every means in your power, that you hadno liking for me. Even last night..."
She paused because tears of humiliation--which she would have givenworlds not to shed--would come to her eyes, and her voice shook in spiteof every effort which she made at self-control.
"Madonna," he entreated, and suddenly he was quite close to her, withone knee almost touching the ground, "as you are beautiful, so will younot be merciful to a miserable wretch, who hath been sorely perplexed byall the disdain which you have so generously lavished upon him?"
"Disdain, Messire ... surely I..."
"Surely," he broke in gently, "you have every right to despise aworthless fellow whom an evil Chance hath given you for husband, buthave I not been punished enough for daring to accept what the kindgoddess did offer me?"
"I had no thought of punishing you, Messire," she said earnestly. "WhenI stood beside you at the altar, I was a broken-hearted woman to whomFate in the person of a miserable assassin had dealt a cruel blow. Iloved my cousin, Messire ... oh! I know," she broke in quietly, "Iought not to speak of this ... it is unseemly and perhaps unkind ... butI did love him and he was murdered ... foully, abominably, wickedlymurdered ... not killed in fair fight--not openly--but in a darkpassage--waylaid by a brigand ... killed! he! the only man who had everspoken tenderly to me! ... and killed by one of your own people ... afriend of the Prince of Orange ... a man whom popular talk hathnicknamed Leatherface.... Oh! I know," she added hastily, seeing thatinstinctively he had drawn away from her and was now staring straightinto the fire, with a hard expression on his face which she could notfathom, "I know that you have no hand in these conspiracies ... thatfrom indifference rather than loyalty, I believe you have never taken upthe cause of rebellion against our Sovereign Lord; but tell me, Messire,could I--a young, inexperienced girl--could I dissociate you and yoursin my mind from that faction who had sent my kinsman to his death? couldI come to you with a whole heart, and a soul freed from all thoughts ofhatred and revenge? I meant to do my duty by you and had you but helpedme I might have succeeded--instead of which your coldness repelled me.I am of the south, Messire, I am not one of your cold, unemotionalNetherlanders who can go through life without one thrill of the heartbrought on by a tender word or a caress. I was in your house but a fewhours and already my soul was starving--my heart craved for that whichyou were not able to give."
"God forgive me, Madonna," he murmured, "for a blind, insensate fool!"But he did not look at her as he said this, and there was a curiousdreary tone in his voice so unlike his usual light-hearted gaiety. "Howyou must hate us all!" he added with a sigh.
"I would not hate you, Messire," she said so softly that he scarcelycould hear; "your brother Laurence hath been kind to me and I know thatyou take no part in those miserable plots that have treachery andassassination for their ultimate goal. As for the Prince of Orange andhis friends! Yes! I do hate them as I do all pestilential creaturesthat turn on the hand that feeds them!"
"Madonna," he exclaimed hotly--and suddenly he was quite close to heronce again, both her little hands held tightly in his own: his eyes hadlost all their merriment: they were full of
a glowing ardour whichseemed to penetrate into her very soul. "Madonna," he continued, "mayGod forgive you, for indeed you know not what you say. Child! child!will you think a moment--are we not human creatures like yourself? do wenot live and breathe, and eat and love just like you do in Spain? Havewe no hearts to feel, no eyes to see the misery which our people sufferthrough the presence of a stranger in our land? Would you see a Teutonplace his iron heel on Spain and on her people? Would you see theEmperor enforce his laws, his faith, his ideals upon your kith and kin?Would you stand by whilst foreign soldiery swaggered about your cities,outraged your women and plundered your homes? Would you rest content ifthe faith which God hath given you was made akin to treachery and torebellion? The hand that feeds the Netherlands, Madonna!" he addedwhilst a bitter, mirthless laugh escaped his lips, "nay! the handagainst which the valiant Prince of Orange hath raised his in vengeance,is the hand that hath devastated our land, pillaged our cities and sentour people naked and starving out into the world!"
Gradually while he spoke she had drawn herself away from him, and shewould have disengaged her hands too, only that he held them so tightlyimprisoned.
"But Ramon was murdered, Messire," she said slowly, "can you expect meto forget that?--and even now--I would dare swear--there are men whowould murder the Duke of Alva if they could ... or my father."
He made no answer to that--perhaps had she not mentioned her father hemight have tried to tell her that killing was not always murder, but, attimes, the work of a justiciary. Ramon--like the noisome brute that hewas--deserved death as no mere ordinary criminal ever had deserved it.But how could he tell her that, when in her heart she had evidently kepta picture of the man so totally unlike the vile and execrable reality?So now he only sighed and remained silent.
The time had not yet come when this exquisite, tender-hearted girl mustsee the riddles of life solved before her one by one--when she wouldrealise that there is a wider horizon in this world than that which sheperceived above a convent wall. She had been brought up with ideals,thoughts and aspirations that had nothing to do with the great andbitter truths which were proclaimed in every corner of this downtroddenland. Her ideas of King and country, of duty, of loyalty, must all beshattered by the crude realities of life ere upon their ruins she builtfor herself a purer, holier edifice of faith and hope and infinitecharity.
A tender pity for her innocence and her ignorance filled Mark's heartand soul, A maddening desire seized him to fold her in his arms andcarry her away somewhere into a dream-world far away where there were nointrigues and no cruelties, no oppression and misery: and yet again hewould have loved to go with her there where sorrow and poverty werekeenest, for he knew that her soul--unbeknown even to herself--was fullof that gentle compassion which knows how to alleviate pain just by alook from tear-dimmed eyes, or a touch from a gentle hand.
All that and more his look conveyed to her although he remained silent,and she--by a curious intuition--knew just what was in his mind. Theimpassioned appeal which he had made to her just now, told her that hewas not the indifferent ne'er-do-well that every one supposed. He feltdeeply and keenly--more deeply and keenly mayhap than those men whoplotted murders at dead of night. He was not a blind follower of theLieutenant-Governor or of her father: he saw the misery under which hispeople groaned, and his careless, detached air obviously hid intensebitterness and resentment.
But strangely enough, she did not blame him for this. Suddenly sheseemed to see the whole aspect of this strange country under a newlight: the cause of the Netherlanders had--in one instant--appeared toher from a wholly different point of view. Because Mark was theirdefender and their champion she felt that they could not be wholly vile.This, mayhap, was not logic, but it was something more potent, more realthan logic--the soft insinuating voice of Sentiment which whispered:"Would he champion that cause if it were base? Would that fiery ardourfill his soul for a cause that was unworthy?"
And Lenora suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to confide in this oneman; to place before him all the perplexities which were tearing hersoul. Somehow she felt that he would help her out of that tangledlabyrinth wherein she had been groping all night and all day; butshyness held her back. She did not know how to broach the subject, howto tell him all about her oath, her obedience to her father, what shehad done last night, what she thought it her duty to do in the future.
It was all very difficult and Lenora sighed wearily:
"There is so much in what you said just now, Messire," she begantimidly, "that I would like to understand more clearly. I am soignorant ... my life has been so restricted ... I know so little of theworld...."
"Will you let me give you a few lessons?" he queried softly. "There areso many mazes in life through which it is only possible to find the wayby going hand in hand."
"Hand in hand?" she sighed. "I am a stranger in this strange land,Messire ... all that I know of it hath been taught me by those who haveno love for it...."
"You are a stranger in this whole world, dear heart," he said with asmile. "This little bit of Netherlands is but a tiny corner of it: itssorrows, its joys, its pain and happiness are but the sorrows andhappiness of the rest of the world. One day perhaps you will let metake your little hand in mine, and then we would go and explore thewhole of this strange world together."
"I wonder what we would find?" she mused.
"We would find that despite intrigues and cruelty and hatred there ismuch in it that is still beautiful and pure. If we went hand in hand,you and I, we would not wander with eyes downcast and seeking in the mudfor the noxious things which foul God's creation by their presence--wewould look upwards, sweet, and see the soft blue of our northern skies,veiled as it so often is with silvery mists that hold the entire gamutof exquisite colours in their fairy bosoms; we would see the greenleaves of the trees turn to russet and gold in the autumn, we would seethe linnets nesting in the bay trees in the spring. There are manybeautiful things in this dreary world of ours, dear heart, but they canonly be seen if two pairs of eyes look on them at one and the same timeand two pairs of lips whisper together in thankfulness to God."
How strange it was to hear him talking like this--Mark van Rycke, thehaunter of taverns and careless profligate. Lenora's eyes, dark,luminous, enquiring, were fixed upon him--and gradually as he spoke hisarm stole closer and closer round her shoulders as it had done twonights ago in Ghent when she had so wantonly turned on him in hatred.Now she felt as if she could go on listening to him for hours andhours--thus alone in this semi-darkness with the glow of dying embersupon his face, showing the strong outline of cheek and jaw, and the finesweep of the forehead with the straight brows above those kind, greyeyes. She could have listened because she loved the sound of his voice,and the quaint, foreign intonation wherewith he spoke the Spanishtongue.
No! of a truth she did not dislike him: certainly she had no cause forhatred against him, for what had he to do with traitors or withassassins, he who spoke so gently of birds and skies and trees?
"If you will still let me hold this little hand, dear heart," hewhispered now, speaking so low that in order to hear she had to lowerher head until his lips were quite close to her ear, "we could learn onelesson together which God only teaches to His elect."
"And what lesson is that?" she asked, feigning not to understand, thoughshe knew quite well what the answer would be.
"That which the nightingale teaches its mate when in May the hawthorn isin bloom and the west wind whispers among its leaves. The lesson oflove."
"Love?" she said with a strange tremour in her voice, "the world nolonger contains love for me...."
"The world perhaps not, dear sweet," he said more gaily, "but there is aheart beating close to yours now which holds I swear an infinity of lovefor you."
And once more as he spoke, the same magic spell of a while ago descendedupon Lenora. It seemed as if for the moment life--the dreary, wretchedlife of the past few days--had ceased, and a kind of dream-existence had
begun. And in this dream-existence she--Lenora--was all alone with thisstranger--this man whom but a few days ago she had not even seen--whohad had no part in her life in the peaceful past when she knew nothingof the world beyond the old convent walls at Segovia; yet now--in thedream-existence--she was alone with him and she was content. Ramon wasnot there--he had become the past--all the future for her seemedsuddenly to be bound up with Mark, and she was content. He had spokenof beauty, of skies, of birds and of the gifts of God, and he still heldher hand, and his arm now was right round her, so that she could feelhim drawing her closer and closer to him, the while the magic spellworked upon her senses and she felt a delicious languor pervading herentire being.
"Give me your lips, sweetheart," he whispered in her ear, "and I'll giveyou your first lesson even now."
And verily I do believe that Lenora would have yielded here andnow--content to leave the great solution of her life's riddle in theomnipotent hands of love--forgetting her oath to her father, the deathof Ramon, the danger which threatened the Duke of Alva, conspiracies,treacheries, rebellion ... everything! What did it all matter? what didthe world and its intrigues and its politics count beside the insistent,the wonderful call of Love?--the call of man to woman, of bird to bird,to mate and to nest and to be happy, to forget the universe in oneembrace, to renounce the kingdoms of the world in the first blissfulkiss.
For a few seconds Lenora remained quite still, while Happiness--thestrange and mysterious elf--fluttered softly about the room. It hoveredfor awhile above that ingle-nook where two young hearts were mutelycalling one to another, and it looked down on the beautiful girl withthe glowing eyes and parted lips who with every fibre of her ardentbeing and the insistence of her youth was ready to capture it....
Leatherface: A Tale of Old Flanders Page 17