The Heart of Denise, and Other Tales. Levett Yeats Sidney
next moment the door opened, and the dwarf Majosky put out his leering face.
"Enter, mademoiselle!" he said, with a grotesque bow, adding in a rapid, malignant whisper as I passed him, "You are going to be married-to me."
At any other time I would have spared no pains to get him punished for his insolence; but now, so taken aback was I at what I had heard, that I scarcely noticed him, and entered the room as if in a dream. Indeed, it was only with an effort that I recollected myself sufficiently to make my reverence to the King. He called out as I did so, "Mordieu! I retract, Tavannes! I retract! Faith! I almost feel as if I could take the adventure on myself!"
A slight exclamation of annoyance escaped the Queen, and Tavannes said coldly:
"Perhaps your Majesty had better inform my niece of your good pleasure," adding grimly, "and I guarantee mademoiselle's obedience."
There was a minute or so of silence, during which the King was, as it were, picking his words, whilst I stood before him. Majosky shuffled down at Catherine's feet, and watched me with his wicked, blinking eyes. I do not remember to have looked around me, and yet every little detail of that scene will remain stamped on my memory until the day I die.
Madame, the Queen Mother, was at her secretary, her fingers toying with a jewelled paper-knife, and her white face and glittering eyes fixed steadily on me, eyes with that pitiless look in them which we all knew so well, and which made the most daring of us tremble. A little to my right stood de Tavannes, one hand on the back of a chair, and stroking his grizzled beard with the other. Before me, on a coffer, whereon he had negligently thrown himself, was the King, and he surveyed me without speaking, with a half-approving, half-sarcastic look that made my blood tingle, and almost gave me back my courage.
In sharp contrast to the solemn black of Catherine's robes and the stern soldierly marshal was the figure of the King. Henri was dressed in his favourite colours, orange, green, and tan, with a short cloak of the same three hues hanging from his left shoulder. His pourpoint was open at the throat, around which was clasped a necklet of pearls, and he wore three ruffs, one such as we women wear, of lace that fell over the shoulders, and two smaller ones as stiff as starch could make them. He wore earrings, there were rings on his embroidered gloves, and all over his person, from his sleeves to the aigrette he wore on the little turban over his peruke, a multitude of gems glittered. On his left side, near his sword hilt, was a bunch of medallions of ladies who had smiled on him, and this was balanced on the other hand by an equally large cluster of charms and relics. As he sat there he kept tapping the end of one of his shoes with a little cane, whilst he surveyed me with an almost insulting glance in the mocking eyes that looked out from his painted cheeks.
The silence was like to have become embarrassing had not Catherine, impatient of delay, put in with that even voice of hers:
"Perhaps I had better explain your Majesty's commands;" and then without waiting for an answer she went on, looking me straight in the face-
"Mademoiselle. In his thought for your welfare-a kindness you have not deserved-the King has been pleased to decide on your marriage. Circumstances necessitate the ceremony being performed at once, and I have to tell you that it will take place three hours hence. His Majesty will do you the honour of being himself present on the occasion."
This was beyond my worst fears. I was speechless, and glanced from one to the other in supplication; but I saw no ray of pity in their faces. Alas! These were the three iron hearts that had sat and planned the Massacre.
The Queen's face was as stone. The King half closed his eyes, and his lips curled into a smile as if he enjoyed the situation; but my uncle, within whose bluff exterior was a subtle, cruel heart, spoke out harshly:
"You hear, mademoiselle! Thank the King, and get you gone to make ready. I am sick of your endless flirtations, and there must be an end to them-there must be no more talk of your frivolities."
Anger brought back my courage, and half turning away from Tavannes, I said to the Queen:
"I thank the King, madame, for his kindness. Perhaps you will add to it by telling me the name of the gentleman who intends to honour me by making me his wife."
"Arnidieu! She makes a point," laughed the King.
"She shall marry a stick if I will it," said de Tavannes; but Madame the Queen Mother lifted her hand in deprecation.
"It is M. de Lorgnac," she said.
"De Lorgnac! De Lorgnac!" I gasped, hardly believing my ears. "Oh, madame! It is impossible. I hate him. What have I done to be forced into this? Your Majesty," and I turned to the King, "I will not marry that man."
"Well, would you prefer de Clermont?" he asked, with a little laugh; but de Tavannes burst out:
"Sire! This matter admits of no delay. She shall marry de Lorgnac, if I have to drag her to the altar."
"Thank you, monsieur," I said with a courtesy; "it is kindness itself that you, the Count de Tavannes, peer and marshal of France, show to your sister's child."
He winced at my words; but Catherine again interposed.
"Mademoiselle! you do not understand; and if I hurt you now it is your own fault. Let me tell you that for a tithe of your follies Mademoiselle de Torigny was banished from court to a nunnery. You may not be aware of it, but the whole world, at least our world, and that is enough for us, is talking of your affair with de Clermont, who, as you well know, is an affianced man. It is for the sake of your house, for your own good name, and because you will do the King a great service by obeying, that this has been decided on, and you must-do you hear? – must do as we bid you."
She dropped her words out one by one, cool, passionless, and brutal in their clearness. My face was hot with shame and anger, and yet I knew that the ribald tongues that spared not the King's sister would not spare me. I, the heiress of Mieux, to be a by-word in the court! I to be married out of hand like a laundress of the coulisse! It was too much! It was unbearable! And to be bound to de Lorgnac above all others! Was ever woman wooed and wed as I?
I burst into a passion of angry tears. I went so far as to humble myself on my knees; but Henri only laughed and slipped out by the secret door, and de Tavannes followed him with a rough oath.
"Say this is a jest, madame!" I sobbed out to the Queen. "I am punished enough. Say it is a jest. It must be so. You do not mean it. It is too cruel!"
"No more is happening to you than what the daughters of France have to bear sometimes."
"That should make you the more pitiful, madame, for such as I. Let me go, madame, to a nunnery-even to that of Our Lady of Lespaille-but spare me this!"
"It is impossible," she said sharply. "See, here is Madame de Martigny come, and she will conduct you to your room. Tush! It is nothing after all, girl. And it will be better than a convent and a lost name. Do not make a scene."
I rose to my feet stunned and bewildered, and Madame de Martigny put her arm through mine, and dried my eyes with her kerchief.
"Come, mademoiselle," she said, "we have to pass through the corridor to gain your apartment. Keep up your heart!"
"I offer my escort," mocked the dwarf, "and will go so far as to take M. de Lorgnac's place, if your royal pleasure will allow-ah! ah!" – and he broke into a shriek, for Catherine had swiftly and silently raised a dog-whip, and brought it across his shoulders as he sat crouching at her feet.
"Begone!" she said. "Another speech like that and I break you on the wheel!" Then she turned to Madame de Martigny.
"Take her away by the private door. She is not fit to see or be seen now. Tell Pare to give her a cordial if she needs it, and see that she is ready in time. Go, mademoiselle, and be a brave girl!"
CHAPTER II.
THE ORATORY
You who read this will please remember that I was but a girl, and that my powers of resistance were limited. Some of you, perhaps, may have gone through the same ordeal, not in the rough-and-ready way that I had to make the passage, but through a slower if not less certain mill. The result being the same in both cases, to wit, that