The Caged Lion [69]
my lord,' responded Esclairmonde, 'the Lady Alice hath been my sweetest companion, friend, and sister, for these many months.'
'Nay, child, art worthy to be called friend by such a lady as this? If so, I shall deem my little Alice grown a woman indeed, as it is time she were--Diccon Nevil is bent on the wedding before we go to the wars again.'
Alice coloured like a damask rose, and hid her face behind her friend.
'Hast seen him, sweet?' asked Esclairmonde, when Salisbury had been called away. 'Is he here?'
'Yes; out there--he with the white bull on his surcoat,' said Alice, dreading to look that way.
'And hast spoken with him?' asked the lady next, feeling as if the stout, commonplace, hardy-looking soldier she saw was scarce what she would have chosen for her little wild rose of an Alice, comely and brave though he were.
'He hath kissed mine hand,' faltered Alice, but it was quite credible that not a word had passed. The marriage was a business contract between the houses of Wark and Raby, and a grand speculation for Sir Richard Nevil, that was all; but gentle Alice had no reluctance beyond mere maidenly shyness, and unwillingness to enter on an unknown future under a new lord. She even whispered to her dear Clairette that she was glad Sir Richard never tormented her by talking to her, and that he was grave, and so old.
'So old? why, little one, he can scarce be seven-and-twenty!'
'And is not that old? oh, so old!' said Alice. 'Able to take care of me. I would not have a youth like that young Lord of Glenuskie. Oh no--never!'
'That is well,' said Esclairmonde, smiling; 'but wherefore put such disdain in thy voice, Alice? He used to be our playfellow, and he hath grown older and more manly in this year.'
'His boyhood was better than such manhood,' said Alice; 'he was more to my taste when he was meek, than now that he seems to say, "I would be saucy if I durst." And he hath not the stuff to dare any way.'
'Fie! fie! Alice, you are growing slanderous.'
'Nay, now, Clairette, own verily--you feel the like!'
'Hush, silly one, what skills it? Youths must pass through temptation; and if his king hindered his vocation, maybe the poor lad may rue it sorely, but methinks he will come to the right at last. It were better to say a prayer for his faults than to speak evil of them, Alice.'
Poor Malcolm! He was at that very moment planning with an embroiderer a robe wherein to appear, covered with flashes of lightning transfixing the world, and mottoes around--'Esclaire mais Embrase'
Every moment that he was absent from Esclairmonde was spent in composing chivalrous discourses in which to lay himself at her feet, but the mere sight of her steady dark eyes scattered them instantly from his memory; and save for very shame he would have entreated King James again to break the ice for him, since the lady evidently supposed that she had last year entirely quashed his suit. And in this mood Malcolm mounted and took his place to ride into Paris, where the King wished to arrive in the evening, and with little preparation, so as to avoid the weary length of a state reception, with all its speeches and pageants.
In the glow of a May evening the cavalcade passed the gates, and entered the city, where the streets were so narrow that it was often impossible to ride otherwise than two and two. The foremost had emerged into an open space before a church and churchyard, when there was a sudden pause, a shock of surprise. All across the space, blocking up the way, was an enormous line of figures, looking shadowy in the evening light, and bearing the insignia of every rank and dignity that earth presented. Popes were there, with triple crown and keys, and fanned by peacock tails; scarlet-matted and caped cardinals, mitred and crosiered bishops, crowned and sceptred kings, ermined dukes, steel-clad knights, gowned lawyers, square-capped priests, cowled monks, and friars of every degree--nay, the mechanic with his tools, the peasant with his spade, even the beggar within his dish; old men, and
'Nay, child, art worthy to be called friend by such a lady as this? If so, I shall deem my little Alice grown a woman indeed, as it is time she were--Diccon Nevil is bent on the wedding before we go to the wars again.'
Alice coloured like a damask rose, and hid her face behind her friend.
'Hast seen him, sweet?' asked Esclairmonde, when Salisbury had been called away. 'Is he here?'
'Yes; out there--he with the white bull on his surcoat,' said Alice, dreading to look that way.
'And hast spoken with him?' asked the lady next, feeling as if the stout, commonplace, hardy-looking soldier she saw was scarce what she would have chosen for her little wild rose of an Alice, comely and brave though he were.
'He hath kissed mine hand,' faltered Alice, but it was quite credible that not a word had passed. The marriage was a business contract between the houses of Wark and Raby, and a grand speculation for Sir Richard Nevil, that was all; but gentle Alice had no reluctance beyond mere maidenly shyness, and unwillingness to enter on an unknown future under a new lord. She even whispered to her dear Clairette that she was glad Sir Richard never tormented her by talking to her, and that he was grave, and so old.
'So old? why, little one, he can scarce be seven-and-twenty!'
'And is not that old? oh, so old!' said Alice. 'Able to take care of me. I would not have a youth like that young Lord of Glenuskie. Oh no--never!'
'That is well,' said Esclairmonde, smiling; 'but wherefore put such disdain in thy voice, Alice? He used to be our playfellow, and he hath grown older and more manly in this year.'
'His boyhood was better than such manhood,' said Alice; 'he was more to my taste when he was meek, than now that he seems to say, "I would be saucy if I durst." And he hath not the stuff to dare any way.'
'Fie! fie! Alice, you are growing slanderous.'
'Nay, now, Clairette, own verily--you feel the like!'
'Hush, silly one, what skills it? Youths must pass through temptation; and if his king hindered his vocation, maybe the poor lad may rue it sorely, but methinks he will come to the right at last. It were better to say a prayer for his faults than to speak evil of them, Alice.'
Poor Malcolm! He was at that very moment planning with an embroiderer a robe wherein to appear, covered with flashes of lightning transfixing the world, and mottoes around--'Esclaire mais Embrase'
Every moment that he was absent from Esclairmonde was spent in composing chivalrous discourses in which to lay himself at her feet, but the mere sight of her steady dark eyes scattered them instantly from his memory; and save for very shame he would have entreated King James again to break the ice for him, since the lady evidently supposed that she had last year entirely quashed his suit. And in this mood Malcolm mounted and took his place to ride into Paris, where the King wished to arrive in the evening, and with little preparation, so as to avoid the weary length of a state reception, with all its speeches and pageants.
In the glow of a May evening the cavalcade passed the gates, and entered the city, where the streets were so narrow that it was often impossible to ride otherwise than two and two. The foremost had emerged into an open space before a church and churchyard, when there was a sudden pause, a shock of surprise. All across the space, blocking up the way, was an enormous line of figures, looking shadowy in the evening light, and bearing the insignia of every rank and dignity that earth presented. Popes were there, with triple crown and keys, and fanned by peacock tails; scarlet-matted and caped cardinals, mitred and crosiered bishops, crowned and sceptred kings, ermined dukes, steel-clad knights, gowned lawyers, square-capped priests, cowled monks, and friars of every degree--nay, the mechanic with his tools, the peasant with his spade, even the beggar within his dish; old men, and