The Certain Hour (Dizain des Poëtes)

by James Branch Cabell

  BELHS CAVALIERS

  You may read elsewhere of the long feud that was between Guillaume deBaux, afterward Prince of Orange, and his kinsman Raimbaut deVaquieras. They were not reconciled until their youth was dead. Then,when Messire Raimbaut returned from battling against the Turks and theBulgarians, in the 1,210th year from man's salvation, the Archbishop ofRheims made peace between the two cousins; and, attended by Makrisi, aconverted Saracen who had followed the knight's fortunes for well nigha quarter of a century, the Sire de Vaquieras rode homeward.

  Many slain men were scattered along the highway when he came again intoVenaissin, in April, after an absence of thirty years. The crows whomhis passing disturbed were too sluggish for long flights and many ofthem did not heed him at all. Guillaume de Baux was now undisputedmaster of these parts, although, as this host of mute, hacked andpartially devoured witnesses attested, the contest had been dubious fora while: but now Lovain of the Great-Tooth, Prince Guillaume's lastcompetitor, was captured; the forces of Lovain were scattered; and ofLovain's lieutenants only Mahi de Vernoil was unsubdued.

  Prince Guillaume laughed a little when he told his kinsman of theposture of affairs, as more loudly did Guillaume's gross son, SirePhilibert. But Madona Biatritz did not laugh. She was the widow ofGuillaume's dead brother--Prince Conrat, whom Guillaume succeeded--andit was in her honor that Raimbaut had made those songs which won himeminence as a practitioner of the Gay Science.

  Biatritz said, "It is a long while since we two met."

  He that had been her lover all his life said, "Yes."

  She was no longer the most beautiful of women, no longer his be-hymnedBelhs Cavaliers--you may read elsewhere how he came to call her that inall his canzons--but only a fine and gracious stranger. It wasuniformly gray, that soft and plentiful hair, where once such gold hadflamed as dizzied him to think of even now; there was no crimson inthese thinner lips; and candor would have found her eyes less wonderfulthan those Raimbaut had dreamed of very often among an alien andhostile people. But he lamented nothing, and to him she was as everHeaven's most splendid miracle.

  "Yes," said this old Raimbaut,--"and even to-day we have not reclaimedthe Sepulcher as yet. Oh, I doubt if we shall ever win it, now thatyour brother and my most dear lord is dead." Both thought a while ofBoniface de Montferrat, their playmate once, who yesterday was King ofThessalonica and now was so much Macedonian dust.

  She said: "This week the Prince sent envoys to my nephew. . . . Andso you have come home again----" Color had surged into her time-wornface, and as she thought of things done long ago this woman's eyes werelike the eyes of his young Biatritz. She said: "You never married?"

  He answered: "No, I have left love alone. For Love prefers to takerather than to give; against a single happy hour he balances a hundredmiseries, and he appraises one pleasure to be worth a thousand pangs.Pardieu, let this immortal usurer contrive as may seem well to him, forI desire no more of his bounty or of his penalties."

  "No, we wish earnestly for nothing, either good or bad," said DonaBiatritz--"we who have done with loving."

  They sat in silence, musing over ancient happenings, and not looking ateach other, until the Prince came with his guests, who seemed to laughtoo heartily.

  Guillaume's frail arm was about his kinsman, and Guillaume chuckledover jests and by-words that had been between the cousins as children.Raimbaut found them no food for laughter now. Guillaume told all ofRaimbaut's oath of fealty, and of how these two were friends and theirunnatural feud was forgotten. "For we grow old,--eh, maker of songs?"he said; "and it is time we made our peace with Heaven, since we arenot long for this world."

  "Yes," said the knight; "oh yes, we both grow old." He thought ofanother April evening, so long ago, when this Guillaume de Baux hadstabbed him in a hedged field near Calais, and had left him under ahawthorn bush for dead; and Raimbaut wondered that there was no angerin his heart. "We are friends now," he said. Biatritz, whom these twohad loved, and whose vanished beauty had been the spur of their longenmity, sat close to them, and hardly seemed to listen.

  Thus the evening passed and every one was merry, because the Prince hadovercome Lovain of the Great-Tooth, and was to punish the upstart onthe morrow. But Raimbaut de Vaquieras, a spent fellow, a derelict,barren of aim now that the Holy Wars were over, sat in this unfamiliarplace--where when he was young he had laughed as a cock crows!--andthought how at the last he had crept home to die as a dependent on hiscousin's bounty.

  Thus the evening passed, and at its end Makrisi followed the troubadourto his regranted fief of Vaquieras. This was a chill and brilliantnight, swayed by a frozen moon so powerful that no stars showed in theunclouded heavens, and everywhere the bogs were curdled with thin ice.An obdurate wind swept like a knife-blade across a world which even inits spring seemed very old.

  "This night is bleak and evil," Makrisi said. He rode a coffin'slength behind his master. "It is like Prince Guillaume, I think. Whatman will sorrow when dawn comes?"

  Raimbaut de Vaquieras replied: "Always dawn comes at last, Makrisi."

  "It comes the more quickly, messire, when it is prompted."

  The troubadour only smiled at words which seemed so meaningless. Hedid not smile when later in the night Makrisi brought Mahi de Vernoil,disguised as a mendicant friar. This outlaw pleaded with Sire Raimbautto head the tatters of Lovain's army, and showed Raimbaut how easy itwould be to wrest Venaissin from Prince Guillaume. "We cannot saveLovain," de Vemoil said, "for Guillaume has him fast. But Venaissin isvery proud of you, my tres beau sire. Ho, maker of world-famous songs!stout champion of the faith! my men and I will now make you Prince ofOrange in place of the fiend who rules us. You may then at yourconvenience wed Madona Biatritz, that most amiable lady whom you haveloved so long. And by the Cross! you may do this before the week isout."

  The old knight answered: "It is true that I have always served MadonaBiatritz, who is of matchless worth. I might not, therefore, presumeto call myself any longer her servant were my honor stained in anyparticular. Oh no, Messire de Vernoil, an oath is an oath. I havethis day sworn fealty to Guillaume de Baux."

  Then after other talk Raimbaut dismissed the fierce-eyed little man.The freebooter growled curses as he went. On a sudden he whistled,like a person considering, and he began to chuckle.

  Raimbaut said, more lately: "Zoraida left no wholesome legacy in you,Makrisi." This Zoraida was a woman the knight had known inConstantinople--a comely outlander who had killed herself because ofSire Raimbaut's highflown avoidance of all womankind except themistress of his youth.

  "Nay, save only in loving you too well, messire, was Zoraida a wisewoman, notably. . . . But this is outworn talk, the prattle of Cain'sbabyhood. As matters were, you did not love Zoraida. So Zoraida died.Such is the custom in my country."

  "You trouble me, Makrisi. Your eyes are like blown coals. . . . Yetyou have served me long and faithfully. You know that mine was everthe vocation of dealing honorably in battle among emperors, and ofspreading broadcast the rumor of my valor, and of achieving good by mysword's labors. I have lived by warfare. Long, long ago, since Iderived no benefit from love, I cried farewell to it."

  "Ay," said Makrisi. "Love makes a demi-god of all--just for an hour.Such hours as follow we devote to the concoction of sleeping-draughts."He laughed, and very harshly.

  And Raimbaut did not sleep that night because this life of ours seemedsuch a piece of tangle-work as he had not the skill to unravel. So hedevoted the wakeful hours to composition of a planh, lamenting vanishedyouth and that Biatritz whom the years had stolen.

  Then on the ensuing morning, after some talk about the new campaign,Prince Guillaume de Baux leaned back in his high chair and said,abruptly:

  "In perfect candor, you puzzle your liege-lord. For you loathe me andyou still worship my sister-in-law, an unattainable princess. In thesetwo particulars you display such wisdom as would inevitably prompt youto make an end of me. Yet, what the d
evil! you, the time-batteredvagabond, decline happiness and a kingdom to boot because ofyesterday's mummery in the cathedral! because of a mere promise given!Yes, I have my spies in every rat-hole. I am aware that my barons hateme, and hate Philibert almost as bitterly,--and that, in fine, amajority of my barons would prefer to see you Prince in my unstableplace, on account of your praiseworthy molestations of heathenry. Oh,yes, I understand my barons perfectly. I flatter myself I understandeverybody in Venaissin save you."

  Raimbaut answered: "You and I are not alike."

  "No, praise each and every Saint!" said the Prince of Orange, heartily."And yet, I am not sure----" He rose, for his sight had failed him sothat he could not distinctly see you except when he spoke with headthrown back, as though he looked at you over a wall. "For instance, doyou understand that I hold Biatritz here as a prisoner, because herdower-lands are necessary to me, and that I intend to marry her as soonas Pope Innocent grants me a dispensation?"

  "All Venaissin knows that. Yes, you have always gained everythingwhich you desired in this world, Guillaume. Yet it was at a price, Ithink."

  "I am no haggler. . . . But you have never comprehended me, not even inthe old days when we loved each other. For instance, do youunderstand--slave of a spoken word!--what it must mean to me to knowthat at this hour to-morrow there will be alive in Venaissin no personwhom I hate?"

  Messire de Vaquieras reflected. His was never a rapid mind. "Why, no,I do not know anything about hatred," he said, at last. "I think Inever hated any person."

  Guillaume de Baux gave a half-frantic gesture. "Now, Heaven send youtroubadours a clearer understanding of what sort of world we livein----!" He broke off short and growled, "And yet--sometimes I envyyou, Raimbaut!"

  They rode then into the Square of St. Michel to witness the death ofLovain. Guillaume took with him his two new mistresses and all hisby-blows, each magnificently clothed, as if they rode to a festival.Afterward, before the doors of Lovain's burning house, a rope wasfastened under Lovain's armpits, and he was gently lowered into a potof boiling oil. His feet cooked first, and then the flesh of his legs,and so on upward, while Lovain screamed. Guillaume in a loose robe ofgreen powdered with innumerable silver crescents, sat watching, under acanopy woven very long ago in Tarshish, and cunningly embroidered withthe figures of peacocks and apes and men with eagles' heads. His handscaressed each other meditatively.

  It was on the afternoon of this day, the last of April, that SireRaimbaut came upon Madona Biatritz about a strange employment in theLadies' Court. There was then a well in the midst of this enclosure,with a granite ledge around it carven with lilies; and upon this sheleaned, looking down into the water. In her lap was a rope of pearls,which one by one she unthreaded and dropped into the well.

  Clear and warm the weather was. Without, forests were quickening,branch by branch, as though a green flame smoldered from one bough toanother. Violets peeped about the roots of trees, and all the worldwas young again. But here was only stone beneath their feet; and aboutthem showed the high walls and the lead-sheathed towers and theparapets and the sunk windows of Guillaume's chateau. There was nocolor anywhere save gray; and Raimbaut and Biatritz were aging peoplenow. It seemed to him that they were the wraiths of those persons whohad loved each other at Montferrat; and that the walls about them andthe leaden devils who grinned from every waterspout and all those darkand narrow windows were only part of some magic picture, such as asorceress may momentarily summon out of smoke-wreaths, as he had seenZoraida do very long ago.

  This woman might have been a wraith in verity, for she was clothedthroughout in white, save for the ponderous gold girdle about hermiddle. A white gorget framed the face which was so pinched and shrewdand strange; and she peered into the well, smiling craftily.

  "I was thinking death was like this well," said Biatritz, without anycessation of her singular employment--"so dark that we may see nothingclearly save one faint gleam which shows us, or which seems to show us,where rest is. Yes, yes, this is that chaplet which you won in thetournament at Montferrat when we were young. Pearls are the symbol oftears, we read. But we had no time for reading then, no time foranything except to be quite happy. . . . You saw this morning's work.Raimbaut, were Satan to go mad he would be such a fiend as thisGuillaume de Baux who is our master!"

  "Ay, the man is as cruel as my old opponent, Mourzoufle," Sire Raimbautanswered, with a patient shrug. "It is a great mystery why suchpersons should win all which they desire of this world. We can butrecognize that it is for some sufficient reason." Then he talked withher concerning the aforementioned infamous emperor of the East, againstwhom the old knight had fought, and of Enrico Dandolo and of KingBoniface, dead brother to Madona Biatritz, and of much remote,outlandish adventuring oversea. Of Zoraida he did not speak. AndBiatritz, in turn, told him of that one child which she had borne herhusband, Prince Conrat--a son who died in infancy; and she spoke ofthis dead baby, who living would have been their monarch, with a sweetquietude that wrung the old knight's heart.

  Thus these spent people sat and talked for a long while, the talkveering anywhither just as chance directed. Blurred gusts of song andlaughter would come to them at times from the hall where Guillaume deBaux drank with his courtiers, and these would break the tranquil flowof speech. Then, unvexedly, the gentle voice of the speaker, were ithis or hers, would resume.

  She said: "They laugh. We are not merry."

  "No," he replied; "I am not often merry. There was a time when loveand its service kept me in continuous joy, as waters invest a fish. Iwoke from a high dream. . . . And then, but for the fear of seemingcowardly, I would have extinguished my life as men blow out a candle.Vanity preserved me, sheer vanity!" He shrugged, spreading his hardlean hands. "Belhs Cavaliers, I grudged my enemies the pleasure ofseeing me forgetful of valor and noble enterprises. And so, sincethen, I have served Heaven, in default of you."

  "I would not have it otherwise," she said, half as in wonder; "I wouldnot have you be quite sane like other men. And I believe," sheadded--still with her wise smile--"you have derived a deal of comfort,off and on, from being heart-broken."

  He replied gravely: "A man may always, if he will but take the pains,be tolerably content and rise in worth, and yet dispense with love. Hehas only to guard himself against baseness, and concentrate his powerson doing right. Thus, therefore, when fortune failed me, I persistedin acting to the best of my ability. Though I had lost my lands and myloved lady, I must hold fast to my own worth. Without a lady andwithout acreage, it was yet in my power to live a cleanly and honorablelife; and I did not wish to make two evils out of one."

  "Assuredly, I would not have you be quite sane like other men," sherepeated. "It would seem that you have somehow blundered through longyears, preserving always the ignorance of a child, and the blindness ofa child. I cannot understand how this is possible; nor can I keep fromsmiling at your high-flown notions; and yet,--I envy you, Raimbaut."

  Thus the afternoon passed, and the rule of Prince Guillaume was madesecure. His supper was worthily appointed, for Guillaume loved colorand music and beauty of every kind, and was on this, the day of histriumph, in a prodigal humor. Many lackeys in scarlet brought in thefirst course, to the sound of exultant drums and pipes, with a blast oftrumpets and a waving of banners, so that all hearts were uplifted, andGuillaume jested with harsh laughter.

  But Raimbaut de Vaquieras was not mirthful, for he was remembering aboy whom he had known of very long ago. He was swayed by an odd fancy,as the men sat over their wine, and jongleurs sang and performed tricksfor their diversion, that this boy, so frank and excellent, as yetexisted somewhere; and that the Raimbaut who moved these shriveledhands before him, on the table there, was only a sad dream of what hadnever been. It troubled him, too, to see how grossly these soldiersate, for, as a person of refinement, an associate of monarchs, SireRaimbaut when the dishes were passed picked up his meats between theindex- and the middle-finger of his le
ft hand, and esteemed it infamousmanners to dip any other fingers into the gravy.

  Guillaume had left the Warriors' Hall. Philibert was drunk, and halfthe men-at-arms were snoring among the rushes, when at the height oftheir festivity Makrisi came. He plucked his master by the sleeve.

  A swarthy, bearded Angevin was singing. His song was one of old SireRaimbaut's famous canzons in honor of Belhs Cavaliers. The knave wassinging blithely:

  _Pus mos Belhs Cavaliers grazitz_ _E joys m'es lunhatz e faiditz,_ _Don no m' venra jamais conortz;_ _Fer qu'ees mayer l'ira e plus fortz--_

  The Saracen had said nothing. He showed a jeweled dagger, and theknight arose and followed him out of that uproarious hall. Raimbautwas bitterly perturbed, though he did not know for what reason, asMakrisi led him through dark corridors to the dull-gleaming arras ofPrince Guillaume's apartments. In this corridor was an iron lamp swungfrom the ceiling, and now, as this lamp swayed slightly and burned low,the tiny flame leaped clear of the wick and was extinguished, anddarkness rose about them.

  Raimbaut said: "What do you want of me? Whose blood is on that knife?"

  "Have you forgotten it is Walburga's Eve?" Makrisi said. Raimbaut didnot regret he could not see his servant's countenance. "Time was wenamed it otherwise and praised another woman than a Saxon wench, butlet the new name stand. It is Walburga's Eve, that little, little hourof evil! and all over the world surges the full tide of hell's desire,and mischief is a-making now, apace, apace, apace. People moan intheir sleep, and many pillows are pricked by needles that have sewed ashroud. Cry _Eman hetan_ now, messire! for there are those to-nightwho find the big cathedrals of your red-roofed Christian towns no moreimposing than so many pimples on a butler's chin, because they ride sohigh, so very high, in this brave moonlight. Full-tide, full-tide!"Makrisi said, and his voice jangled like a bell as he drew aside thecurtain so that the old knight saw into the room beyond.

  It was a place of many lights, which, when thus suddenly disclosed,blinded him at first. Then Raimbaut perceived Guillaume lying a-sprawlacross an oaken chest. The Prince had fallen backward and lay in thisposture, glaring at the intruders with horrible eyes which did not moveand would not ever move again. His breast was crimson, for some onehad stabbed him. A woman stood above the corpse and lighted yetanother candle while Raimbaut de Vaquieras waited motionless. A handmeant only to bestow caresses brushed a lock of hair from this woman'seyes while he waited. The movements of this hand were not uncertain,but only quivered somewhat, as a taut wire shivers in the wind, whileRaimbaut de Vaquieras waited motionless.

  "I must have lights, I must have a host of candles to assure me pastany questioning that he is dead. The man is of deep cunning. I thinkhe is not dead even now." Lightly Biatritz touched the Prince'sbreast. "Strange, that this wicked heart should be so tranquil whenthere is murder here to make it glad! Nay, very certainly thisGuillaume de Baux will rise and laugh in his old fashion before hespeaks, and then I shall be afraid. But I am not afraid as yet. I amafraid of nothing save the dark, for one cannot be merry in the dark."

  Raimbaut said: "This is Belhs Cavaliers whom I have loved my wholelife through. Therefore I do not doubt. Pardieu, I do not even doubt,who know she is of matchless worth."

  "Wherein have I done wrong, Raimbaut?" She came to him with flutteringhands. "Why, but look you, the man had laid an ambuscade in the marshand he meant to kill you there to-night as you rode for Vaquieras. Hetold me of it, told me how it was for that end alone he lured you intoVenaissin----" Again she brushed the hair back from her forehead."Raimbaut, I spoke of God and knightly honor, and the man laughed. No,I think it was a fiend who sat so long beside the window yonder, whenceone may see the marsh. There were no candles in the room. Themoonlight was upon his evil face, and I could think of nothing, ofnothing that has been since Adam's time, except our youth, Raimbaut.And he smiled fixedly, like a white image, because my misery amusedhim. Only, when I tried to go to you to warn you, he leaped upstiffly, making a mewing noise. He caught me by the throat so that Icould not scream. Then while we struggled in the moonlight yourMakrisi came and stabbed him----"

  "Nay, I but fetched this knife, messire." Makrisi seemed to love thatbloodied knife.

  Biatritz proudly said: "The man lies, Raimbaut."

  "What need to tell me that, Belhs Cavaliers?"

  And the Saracen shrugged. "It is very true I lie," he said. "As amongfriends, I may confess I killed the Prince. But for the rest, takenotice both of you, I mean to lie intrepidly."

  Raimbaut remembered how his mother had given each of two lads an apple,and he had clamored for Guillaume's, as children do, and Guillaume hadchanged with him. It was a trivial happening to remember after fiftyyears; but Guillaume was dead, and this hacked flesh was Raimbaut'sflesh in part, and the thought of Raimbaut would never troubleGuillaume de Baux any more. In addition there was a fire of juniperwood and frankincense upon the hearth, and the room smelt too cloyinglyof be-drugging sweetness. Then on the walls were tapestries whichdepicted Merlin's Dream, so that everywhere recoiling women smiled withbold eyes; and here their wantonness seemed out of place.

  "Listen," Makrisi was saying; "listen, for the hour strikes. At last,at last!" he cried, with a shrill whine of malice.

  Raimbaut said, dully: "Oh, I do not understand----"

  "And yet Zoraida loved you once! loved you as people love where I wasborn!" The Saracen's voice had altered. His speech was like therustle of papers. "You did not love Zoraida. And so it came aboutthat upon Walburga's Eve, at midnight, Zoraida hanged herself besideyour doorway. Thus we love where I was born. . . . And I, I cut therope--with my left hand. I had my other arm about that frozen thingwhich yesterday had been Zoraida, you understand, so that it might notfall. And in the act a tear dropped from that dead woman's cheek andwetted my forehead. Ice is not so cold as was that tear. . . . Ho,that tear did not fall upon my forehead but on my heart, because Iloved that dancing-girl, Zoraida, as you do this princess here. Ithink you will understand," Makrisi said, calmly as one who states amaxim.

  The Sire de Vaquieras replied, in the same tone: "I understand. Youhave contrived my death?"

  "Ey, messire, would that be adequate? I could have managed that anyhour within the last score of years. Oh no! for I have studied youcarefully. Oh no! instead, I have contrived this plight. For thePrince of Orange is manifestly murdered. Who killed him?--why, MadonaBiatritz, and none other, for I will swear to it. I, I will swear toit, who saw it done. Afterward both you and I must be questioned uponthe rack, as possibly concerned in the affair, and whether innocent orguilty we must die very horribly. Such is the gentle custom of yourChristian country when a prince is murdered. That is not the point ofthe jest, however. For first Sire Philibert will put this woman to theQuestion by Water, until she confesses her confederates, until sheconfesses that every baron whom Philibert distrusts was one of them.Oh yes, assuredly they will thrust a hollow cane into the mouth of yourBiatritz, and they will pour water a little by a little through thiscane, until she confesses what they desire. Ha, Philibert will see tothis confession! And through this woman's torment he will rid himselfof every dangerous foe he has in Venaissin. You must stand by and waityour turn. You must stand by, in fetters, and see this done--you, you,my master!--you, who love this woman as I loved that dead Zoraida whowas not fair enough to please you!"

  Raimbaut, trapped, impotent, cried out: "This is not possible----" Andfor all that, he knew the Saracen to be foretelling the inevitable.

  Makrisi went on, quietly: "After the Question men will parade her,naked to the middle, through all Orange, until they reach theMarketplace, where will be four horses. One of these horses they willharness to each arm and leg of your Biatritz. Then they will beatthese horses. These will be strong horses. They will each run in adifferent direction."

  This infamy also was certain. Raimbaut foresaw what he must do. Heclutched the dagger which Makrisi fondled. "Belhs C
avaliers, thisfellow speaks the truth. Look now, the moon is old--is it not strangeto know it will outlive us?"

  And Biatritz came close to Sire Raimbaut and said: "I understand. If Ileave this room alive it will purchase a hideous suffering for my poorbody, it will bring about the ruin of many brave and innocentchevaliers. I know. I would perforce confess all that the masked menbade me. I know, for in Prince Conrat's time I have seen persons whohad been put to the Question----" She shuddered; and she re-began,without any agitation: "Give me the knife, Raimbaut."

  "Pardieu! but I may not obey you for this once," he answered, "since weare informed by those in holy orders that all such as lay violent handsupon themselves must suffer eternally." Then, kneeling, he cried, inan extremity of adoration: "Oh, I have served you all my life. Youmay not now deny me this last service. And while I talk they dig yourgrave! O blind men, making the new grave, take heed lest that grave betoo narrow, for already my heart is breaking in my body. I have drunktoo deep of sorrow. And yet I may not fail you, now that honor andmercy and my love for you demand I kill you before I also die--in sucha fashion as this fellow speaks of."

  She did not dispute this. How could she when it was an axiom in allCourts of Love that Heaven held dominion in a lover's heart only as anunderling of the man's mistress?

  And so she said, with a fond smile: "It is your demonstrableprivilege. I would not grant it, dear, were my weak hands as clean asyours. Oh, but it is long you have loved me, and it is faithfully youhave served Heaven, and my heart too is breaking in my body now thatyour service ends!"

  And he demanded, wearily: "When we were boy and girl together what hadwe said if any one had told us this would be the end?"

  "We would have laughed. It is a long while since those childrenlaughed at Montferrat. . . . Not yet, not yet!" she said. "Ah, pityme, tried champion, for even now I am almost afraid to die."

  She leaned against the window yonder, shuddering, staring into thenight. Dawn had purged the east of stars. Day was at hand, the daywhose noon she might not hope to witness. She noted this incuriously.Then Biatritz came to him, very strangely proud, and yet all tenderness.

  "See, now, Raimbaut! because I have loved you as I have loved nothingelse in life, I will not be unworthy of your love. Strike and havedone."

  Raimbaut de Vaquieras raised an already bloodied dagger. As emotiongoes, he was bankrupt. He had no longer any dread of hell, because hethought that, a little later, nothing its shrewdest overseer could planwould have the power to vex him. She, waiting, smiled. Makrisi,seated, stretched his legs, put fingertips together with the air of anattendant amateur. This was better than he had hoped. In such aposture they heard a bustle of armored men, and when all turned, sawhow a sword protruded through the arras.

  "Come out, Guillaume!" people were shouting. "Unkennel, dog! Out,out, and die!" To such a heralding Mahi de Vernoil came into the roomwith mincing steps such as the man affected in an hour of peril. Hefirst saw what a grisly burden the chest sustained. "Now, by theFace!" he cried, "if he that cheated me of quieting this filth shouldprove to be of gentle birth I will demand of him a duel to the death!"The curtains were ripped from their hangings as he spoke, and behindhim the candlelight was reflected by the armor of many followers.

  Then de Vernoil perceived Raimbaut de Vaquieras, and the spruce littleman bowed ceremoniously. All were still. Composedly, like alieutenant before his captain, Mahi narrated how these hunted remnantsof Lovain's army had, as a last cast, that night invaded the chateau,and had found, thanks to the festival, its men-at-arms in uniform andinefficient drunkenness. "My tres beau sire," Messire de Vernoilended, "will you or nill you, Venaissin is yours this morning. Myknaves have slain Philibert and his bewildered fellow-tipplers withless effort than is needed to drown as many kittens."

  And his followers cried, as upon a signal: "Hail, Prince of Orange!"

  It was so like the wonder-working of a dream--this sudden and heroicuproar--that old Raimbaut de Vaquieras stood reeling, near to intimacywith fear for the first time. He waited thus, with both hands pressedbefore his eyes. He waited thus for a long while, because he was notused to find chance dealing kindlily with him. Later he saw thatMakrisi had vanished in the tumult, and that many people awaited hisspeaking.

  The lord of Venaissin began: "You have done me a great service, Messirede Vemoil. As recompense, I give you what I may. I freely yield youall my right in Venaissin. Oh no, kingcraft is not for me. I dailysee and hear of battles won, cities beleaguered, high towersoverthrown, and ancient citadels and new walls leveled with the dust.I have conversed with many kings, the directors of these events, andthey were not happy people. Yes, yes, I have witnessed divershappenings, for I am old. . . . I have found nothing which can serveme in place of honor."

  He turned to Dona Biatritz. It was as if they were alone. "BelhsCavaliers," he said, "I had sworn fealty to this Guillaume. Heviolated his obligations; but that did not free me of mine. An oath isan oath. I was, and am to-day, sworn to support his cause, and toprofit in any fashion by its overthrow would be an abominable action.Nay, more, were any of his adherents alive it would be my manifest dutyto join them against our preserver, Messire de Vernoil. This necessityis very happily spared me. I cannot, though, in honor hold any fiefunder the supplanter of my liege-lord. I must, therefore, relinquishVaquieras and take eternal leave of Venaissin. I will not lose theright to call myself your servant!" he cried out--"and that which isnoblest in the world must be served fittingly. And so, BelhsCavaliers, let us touch palms and bid farewell, and never in this lifespeak face to face of trivial happenings which we two alone remember.For naked of lands and gear I came to you--a prince's daughter--verylong ago, and as nakedly I now depart, so that I may retain the rightto say, 'All my life long I served my love of her according to myabilities, wholeheartedly and with clean hands.'"

  "Yes, yes! you must depart from Venaissin," said Dona Biatritz. Acapable woman, she had no sympathy with his exquisite points of honor,and yet loved him all the more because of what seemed to her hissurpassing folly. She smiled, somewhat as mothers do in humoring anunreasonable boy. "We will go to my nephew's court at Montferrat," shesaid. "He will willingly provide for his old aunt and her husband.And you may still make verses--at Montferrat, where we lived verses,once, Raimbaut."

  Now they gazed full upon each other. Thus they stayed, transfigured,neither seeming old. Each had forgotten that unhappiness existedanywhere in the whole world. The armored, blood-stained men about themwere of no more importance than were those wantons in the tapestry.Without, dawn throbbed in heaven. Without, innumerable birds wereraising that glad, piercing, hurried morning-song which very ancientlycaused Adam's primal waking, to behold his mate.