by John Bowling
CHAPTER XXVII.
JEANNETTE AND WULFHERE, OR LOVE'S COMEDIES.
"Loving she is, and tractable, though wild; And innocence hath privilege in her To dignify arch looks and laughing eyes, And feats of cunning...."
Wordsworth.
Lest it should be imagined that our coquettish little Frenchwoman,Jeannette, had been perfectly quiescent all this time, we proceed togive particulars of some little exploits in which she acted an importantpart. Hers was not the disposition to act the _role_ of a lay figure, itwill be easily imagined. No. To be engaged in some little romance on herown account was as essential to her existence as the breath of hernostrils; and the more romantic and unconventional the part she played,the keener the zest with which she entered into it. She had managed tosubsist on a little flirtation with Paul Lazaire when nothing betterpresented itself; but now, the tall and handsome Saxon, Wulfhere, hadfired her inflammable little heart with such a passion as she had neverexperienced before. Her scanty knowledge of Saxon heraldry and Saxoncustoms, coupled with Wulfhere's constant comradeship with the greatSaxon earl, had caused her to think highly of this doughty Saxon loverof hers. It must be confessed, too, that Wulfhere's fine presence, hisundoubted valour, and the unflagging goodnature and ready wit with whichhe alternately bantered, flattered, or caressed her, quite carried herby storm; and over head and ears in love, at a stroke almost, went thisborn coquette.
Right skilfully had she woven many a Cupid's net for others, and, withtantalising inconsistency, frowned to-day and smiled to-morrow upon herhapless victims. The truth was, none hitherto had fired her imperiousimagination sufficiently. But at last Cupid had transfixed herunmistakably; and Jeannette was not the one to stand on ceremony, or bea slave to petty prudencies. Not she, indeed!
To have a brush with the chapter of accidents, to set wiseheads and slanderous tongues a-wagging; added piquancy to theromance, and was quite to her liking. Hate has its plots andcounterplots, its subterfuges and scheming, its dogged persistence inmalevolence; but love also has its expedients, its inventions, itscircumlocutions, which, for ingenuity, and for that final grace of allplotters--_audacity_, will circumvent its hateful opposite any day. Lovealso has this final advantage; it dares to be found out, and is never awhit abashed when its devices are discovered.
Upon Wulfhere, too, the advent of this pretty and coquettish little damehad burst like a revelation. The saucy pertness, the mischief andmerriment which glanced in her sparkling eye, the feminine gracefulnessof form and figure, the pretty devices with which she was wont to adornherself, and set off her charms, and the sheer _abandon_ with which sherushed into this love affair with him, completely carried him away, andhe was speedily as helpless as a slave in her hands. The contrastbetween this dainty Frenchwoman, and the Saxon women of the lower orderswas simply inexpressible, and Wulfhere, in his Saxon simplicity, wascharmed beyond measure.
Upon poor Paul Lazaire the altered demeanour of Jeannette towardshimself operated somewhat hardly. Being quite in the dark as to theexistence of a new disturbing factor, he was wont to obtrude hispresence as heretofore upon Jeannette. But alas! Jeannette had now lostthe little interest which aforetime she had manifested in Paul. She had,in past time, deigned occasionally to bestow a smile, amid her manyfrowns, on his pretensions; and this occasional smile and ray ofsunshine had refreshed him, and given him hope. Now, alas! the smileshad all vanished, whilst the frowns deepened in intensity, and werefrequently accompanied by a perky toss of the head, and little scornfulspeeches. 'Tis just like poor human nature, though, the world over; whenonce enmeshed in Cupid's net, the shaking-off process makes one clingthe tighter, and it made poor Paul more and more desperate in hisendeavours to win a smile from his lady-love. It had become, however,not only unpleasant to Jeannette, but vastly inconvenient, too, to haveher footsteps dogged as she sauntered through the woods, or by theriver's side, as any one who has had experience of these things willeasily understand. No matter, if Paul caught a glimpse of Jeannette'sgolden hair as she slid away at still eventide for a quiet walk in thewoods, why, poor short-sighted mortal, he was sure to consider hispresence and protection indispensable; and though he had had latterlysome very unpleasant experiences of the fact that Jeannette neitherconsidered his presence indispensable nor agreeable, yet he perseveredmost desperately.
Seeing this infatuation on Paul's part, it had occurred to anotherparticipator in these sylvan _tete-a-tetes_ that more drastic expedientswould have to be resorted to in order to disillusionise him. So a slightrebuff was administered to poor Paul, which had the happy effect ofsomewhat disenchanting him.
It was at the still eventide. Jeannette had laid aside the duties of theday, and had ascended to the tower. Why? Well, perhaps to see thesunset. It was somewhat strange, but somehow, like her mistress, she hadacquired the habit of reconnoitring at odd hours from the tower of thecastle. Probably she and Alice had confidences in these matters. But, bethat as it may, a very hasty survey of the beauties of nature on thisoccasion made her hurry off for a closer scrutiny. Paul's vigilant eyeespied the fair form making for the path by the river's side, and, onthe assumption that "faint heart never won fair lady," he would ventureagain. So he started off in pursuit. It must be confessed he did notapproach this imperious fair one without many tremblings andforebodings. The keen edge of her saucy tongue had greatly dismayed himin many a wordy tussle lately, and it had begun dimly to dawn upon himthat this waspish habit had something of dislike for him. Poor fellow!These very quakings of heart presaged coming trouble and defeat. 'Twasin his case pretty much as the old saw has it:--
"Tender-handed touch a nettle, And it stings you for your pains. Grasp it like a man of mettle, And it soft as silk remains."
Never, my dear Paul, should you have approached a saucy, perky dame likethis, in the character and with the attitude of a milksop. "Buxom dameswill have a buxom wooing." "He who goes trembling will come backshambling."
"My dear Jeannette," began Paul, most humbly, as he caught up to her, "Iwonder how you dare venture in these woods alone."
"Humph! I dare do anything I like to. And pray what have you got to dowith it, Master Lazaire? I didn't invite you, I know!"
"Well, I thought you ought to have some protection, and I wouldaccompany you if you didn't mind."
"But I do mind; so get off with you to that Saxon hussy I caught youkissing. You may tell her to wash her face, and comb her hair; and ifshe could tighten the bands about her skirts to make herself a waist, itwould greatly improve her appearance. But she is good enough for you,anyway. So be off with you!"
"I never speak to those Saxon wenches. I love you alone, Jeannette; youknow that well enough. But you seem now as though you hated to see me."
"I know I caught you kissing a Saxon wench, and a precious dirty onetoo. I know that well enough, Paul Lazaire. And I'll not have youfollowing me at all. So be off, you softhead, and don't be told again!"
This style of rebuff was more than poor Paul had calculated upon,dubious though he had been, and his temper was considerably ruffled inconsequence. His eye assumed an unnatural fierceness as he took in thelonely surroundings of the forest, and desperate resolves were quicklyforming in his breast. Jeannette all the while kept her eye steadilyfixed on a certain trysting-place, a little ahead, and her nimble feetwere on the lilt ready for flight if necessary.
Paul laid his hand on her shoulder somewhat roughly, and said,--
"Stop a bit, _ma grande dame_. You give yourself too many airs for mealtogether."
Jeannette shook him off and at the same time dealt him a stinging slapin the face; then she took to her heels like a deer, with Paul in hotpursuit, in an ungovernable rage.
"_Voulez vous_ slap me in the face, _vous renarde_? _Vous serez_ taughtdifferent when I catch you!"
Just as he was about to lay hands on the fugitive, out sprang Wulfherefrom the thicket, and seizing Paul by the throat, he well nigh shook thelife out of him.
"You villai
n!" said Wulfhere. "You assault defenceless women, do you,you undersized little imp? I'll screw your neck round before I've donewith you! It is well I was near, you wretch, you!"--the sentences andthe shakings alternating with equal vigour, until poor Paul scarcelyknew whether he was on his head or his heels. During this operation,Wulfhere was steadily backing him to the river's brink, which, havingreached, he gathered him up and pitched him in, head foremost. Paul camefloundering out again, like a half-drowned rat.
"There!" said Wulfhere, catching him again by the scruff of the neck;"you may thank your stars I haven't drowned you altogether. Now be offwith you;" administering at the same time a hearty kick to the baserparts of Paul's anatomy, which considerably accelerated his retreat.
Paul was not slow to take advantage of this privilege, and he quicklyput a safe distance between himself and the Saxon. Suddenly, however, itoccurred to him that he was possessed of a sword. Whipping it outsavagely he turned to make a tremendous lunge at the foe, when, ohhorrors! he was just in time to see in the distance the long arm of theSaxon fondly entwining the slender waist of Jeannette, and the perkylittle face, all smiles and blushes, upturned to receive a spanking kissfrom the "beast of _a Saxon_!"
"_Le diable!!_" he screamed with rage, whilst the veins of his face andneck were distended almost to bursting. Off he started in pursuit, swordin hand, and bent on executing summary vengeance on the perfidious pair.Just at that moment, however, the Saxon gave a backward glance over hisshoulder, and this had the effect of bringing Paul to a stand instantly.No; he decided, upon second thoughts, that he would not slay themhimself, but bring a troop down upon them promptly. So he turned againand rushed off towards the castle for reinforcements. But having time onthe way to become fully sensible of the pickle he was in, and of thevery inglorious part he had played in this encounter, he decidedotherwise. Discretion would be the better part of valour; for if hiscomrades but set eyes on him in his present state, or heard the story ofthis exploit, his peace was gone for ever. So he decided, upon maturereflection, to say nothing about it for the present, but nurse his wrathfor some more favourable opportunity of wreaking vengeance upon themboth.