diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/62669-h/62669-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62669-h/62669-h.htm | 13212 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 13212 deletions
diff --git a/old/62669-h/62669-h.htm b/old/62669-h/62669-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 2cbf309..0000000 --- a/old/62669-h/62669-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13212 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Castle of Twilight, by Margaret Horton Potter</title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - body { margin-left: 8%; margin-right: 10%; } - h1 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: xx-large; } - h2 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: x-large; } - .pageno { right: 1%; font-size: x-small; background-color: inherit; color: silver; - text-indent: 0em; text-align: right; position: absolute; - border: thin solid silver; padding: .1em .2em; font-style: normal; - font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; } - p { text-indent: 0; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; text-align: justify; } - sup { vertical-align: top; font-size: 0.6em; } - .sc { font-variant: small-caps; } - .large { font-size: large; } - .small { font-size: small; } - .color_red { color: red; } - .lg-container-b { text-align: center; } - @media handheld { .lg-container-b { clear: both; } } - .lg-container-r { text-align: right; } - @media handheld { .lg-container-r { clear: both; } } - .linegroup { display: inline-block; text-align: left; } - @media handheld { .linegroup { display: block; margin-left: 1.5em; } } - .linegroup .group { margin: 1em auto; } - .linegroup .line { text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em; } - div.linegroup > :first-child { margin-top: 0; } - .ol_1 li {padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em; } - ol.ol_1 {padding-left: 0; margin-left: 2.78%; margin-top: .5em; - margin-bottom: .5em; list-style-type: decimal; } - div.footnote > :first-child { margin-top: 1em; } - div.footnote p { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - div.pbb { page-break-before: always; } - hr.pb { border: none; border-bottom: thin solid; margin-bottom: 1em; } - @media handheld { hr.pb { display: none; } } - .chapter { clear: both; page-break-before: always; } - .figcenter { clear: both; max-width: 100%; margin: 2em auto; text-align: center; } - div.figcenter p { text-align: center; text-indent: 0; } - .figcenter img { max-width: 100%; height: auto; } - .id001 { width:30%; } - .id002 { width:5%; } - .id003 { width:60%; } - .id004 { width:100%; } - @media handheld { .id001 { margin-left:35%; width:30%; } } - @media handheld { .id002 { margin-left:47%; width:5%; } } - @media handheld { .id003 { margin-left:20%; width:60%; } } - @media handheld { .id004 { margin-left:0%; width:100%; } } - .ic003 { width:100%; } - .ic005 { width:100%; } - .ic006 { width:100%; } - div.ic005 p { text-align:right; } - div.ic006 p { text-align:left; } - .ig001 { width:100%; } - .table0 { margin: auto; margin-top: 2em; } - .nf-center { text-align: center; } - .nf-center-c0 { text-align: left; margin: 0.5em 0; } - img.drop-capi { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; position: relative; z-index: 1; } - p.drop-capi_8 { text-indent: 0; margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - p.drop-capi_8:first-letter { color: transparent; visibility: hidden; - margin-left: -.8em; } - @media handheld { - img.drop-capi { display: none; visibility: hidden; } - p.drop-capi_8:first-letter { color: inherit; visibility: visible; - margin-left: 0em; } - } - p.drop-capa0_0_6 { text-indent: -0em; } - p.drop-capa0_0_6:first-letter { float: left; margin: 0.100em 0.100em 0em 0em; - font-size: 250%; line-height: 0.6em; text-indent: 0; } - @media handheld { - p.drop-capa0_0_6 { text-indent: 0; } - p.drop-capa0_0_6:first-letter { float: none; margin: 0; font-size: 100%; } - } - .c000 { margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } - .c001 { margin-top: 4em; } - .c002 { page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em; } - .c003 { margin-top: 2em; } - .c004 { margin-top: 1em; } - .c005 { page-break-before:auto; margin-top: 4em; } - .c006 { vertical-align: top; text-align: right; padding-right: 1em; } - .c007 { vertical-align: top; text-align: left; padding-right: 1em; } - .c008 { vertical-align: top; text-align: right; } - .c009 { vertical-align: top; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em; - padding-left: 1em; padding-right: 1em; } - .c010 { vertical-align: bottom; text-align: right; } - .c011 { border: none; border-bottom: thin solid; margin-top: 0.8em; - margin-bottom: 0.8em; margin-left: 35%; margin-right: 35%; width: 30%; } - .c012 { margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - .c013 { margin-top: 2em; text-indent: 1em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - .c014 { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - .c015 { text-decoration: none; } - .c016 { font-size: 2em; } - .c017 { margin-top: 1em; font-size: .9em; } - .c018 { font-size: .9em; text-indent: 1em; margin-top: 0.25em; - margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - div.tnotes { padding-left:1em;padding-right:1em;background-color:#E3E4FA; - border:1px solid silver; margin:2em 10% 0 10%; font-family: Georgia, serif; - } - .covernote { visibility: hidden; display: none; } - div.tnotes p { text-align:left; } - @media handheld { .covernote { visibility: visible; display: block;} } - .section { clear: both; page-break-before: always; } - .ol_1 li {font-size: .9em; } - @media handheld {.ol_1 li {padding-left: 1em; text-indent: 0em; } } - body {font-family: serif, 'DejaVu Sans'; text-align: justify; } - table {font-size: .9em; margin-top: 1.5em; page-break-inside: avoid; clear: both; } - .footnote {font-size: .9em; } - div.footnote p {text-indent: 2em; margin-bottom: .5em; } - div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; } - div.titlepage p {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 3em; } - .figcenter {font-size: .9em; page-break-inside: avoid; max-height: 100%; - max-width: 100%; } - .ph1 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: xx-large; - margin: .67em auto; } - .ph2 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; - page-break-before: always; } - .click {text-align: center; } - @media handheld {.click {visibility: hidden;} } - </style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -Project Gutenberg's The Castle of Twilight, by Margaret Horton Potter - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: The Castle of Twilight - -Author: Margaret Horton Potter - -Illustrator: Ch. Weber - Mabel Harlow - -Release Date: July 17, 2020 [EBook #62669] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CASTLE OF TWILIGHT *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing, Mary Glenn Krause, Charlene -Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class='tnotes covernote'> - -<p class='c000'><b>Transcriber’s Note:</b></p> - -<p class='c000'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='ph1 section'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>The Castle of Twilight</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div id='Frontispiece' class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_004.jpg' alt='Lenore' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='titlepage'> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_titlepage.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div> - <h1 class='c002'>THE CASTLE OF TWILIGHT</h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c003'> - <div><span class='large'><em>By</em> MARGARET HORTON POTTER</span></div> - <div class='c004'><em>With six Illustrations by Ch. Weber</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id002'> -<img src='images/i_title.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>CHICAGO</div> - <div>A. C. McCLURG & CO</div> - <div><em>1903</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><span class='sc'>Copyright</span></div> - <div><span class='sc'>A. C. McClurg & Co.</span></div> - <div>1903</div> - <div class='c004'>Published September 26, 1903</div> - <div class='c003'>DESIGNED, ARRANGED, AND PRINTED</div> - <div>BY THE UNIVERSITY PRESS</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>TO</div> - <div class='c004'>G. M. McB.</div> - <div class='c004'>WHOSE MUSIC SUGGESTED THE STORY</div> - <div class='c004'><em>This little volume is faithfully</em></div> - <div><em>inscribed</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='click'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><span class='color_red'>[Click on score for music playback.]</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_009.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'><span class='sc'>Table · of contents</span></h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0' summary='Table of contents'> - <tr> - <th class='c006'></th> - <th class='c007'> </th> - <th class='c008'><span class='small'><span class='sc'>Page</span></span></th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007' colspan='2'><span class='sc'>Foreword</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_vii'>vii</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <th class='c006'><span class='sc'>Chapter</span></th> - <th class='c007'> </th> - <th class='c008'> </th> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>I.</td> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>The Desolation of Age</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>II.</td> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>The Silence of Youth</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_29'>29</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>III.</td> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>Flammecœur</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_62'>62</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>IV.</td> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>The Passion</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_94'>94</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>V.</td> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>Shadows</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_121'>121</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>VI.</td> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>A Love-Strain</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_154'>154</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>VII.</td> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>The Lost Lenore</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_177'>177</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>VIII.</td> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>To a Trumpet-Call</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_209'>209</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>IX.</td> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>The Storm</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_235'>235</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>X.</td> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>From Rennes</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_260'>260</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>XI.</td> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>The Wanderer</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_286'>286</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>XII.</td> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>Laure</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_316'>316</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>XIII.</td> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>Lenore</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_347'>347</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>XIV.</td> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>Eleanore</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_378'>378</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>XV.</td> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>The Rising Tide</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_401'>401</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>XVI.</td> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>The Middle of the Valley</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_423'>423</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_011.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'><span class='sc'>List · of illustrations</span></h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0' summary='List of illustrations'> - <tr> - <td class='c009'>Lenore</td> - <td class='c010'><em><a href='#Frontispiece'>Frontispiece</a></em></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <th class='c009'></th> - <th class='c010'><em>Page</em></th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'>The whole Castle had assembled to say God-speed to their departing lord</td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#i_103'>90</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'>Only one among them seemed not of their mood</td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#i_195'>180</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'>“Gerault—Gerault—my lord!” she whispered</td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#i_293'>276</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'>Mother and child were happy to sit all day in the flower-strewn meadow</td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#i_355'>336</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'>Hand in hand, by the murmurous sea, they walked</td> - <td class='c010'><a href='#i_437'>416</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><span class='small'><em>The decorations for title-page, end-papers, and chapter initials are by Miss Mabel Harlow</em></span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_vii'>vii</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>FOREWORD</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'><em>Wistfully I deliver up to you my -simple story, knowing that the first suggestion -of “historical novel” will bring before -you an image of dreary woodenness and unceasing -carnage. Yet if you will have the graciousness -but to unlock my castle door you will find within -only two or three quiet folk who will distress you -with no battles nor strange oaths. Even in the -days of rival Princes and never-ending wars there -dwelt still a few who took no part in the moil of -life, but lived with gentle pleasures and unvoiced -sorrows, somewhat as you and I; wherefore, I -pray you, cross the moat. The drawbridge is -down for you, and will not be raised, if, after -introduction to the Chatelaine, you desire speedily -to retreat.</em></p> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>M. H. P.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='ph1 section'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><em>The</em> CASTLE <em>of</em> TWILIGHT</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_013b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_1'>1</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>CHAPTER ONE</em><br /> <span class='large'>THE DESOLATION OF AGE</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='c013'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_013.jpg' width='100' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> -It was mid-April: a sunny -afternoon. A flood of golden -light, borne on gusts of sweet, -chilly air, poured through the -open windows of the Castle -into a high-vaulted, massively -furnished bedroom, hung with tapestries, and -strewn with dry rushes. A heavy silence that -was less a thing of the moment than a part of -the general atmosphere hovered about the room; -and it was not lessened by the unceasing murmur -of ocean waves breaking upon the face -of the cliff on which the Castle stood. This -sound held in it a note of unutterable melancholy. -Indeed, despite the sunlight, the sparkle -of the waves, and the fragrance of the -fresh spring air, this whole building, the culminating -point of a long slope of landscape, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_2'>2</span>seemed wrapped in an atmosphere of loneliness, -of sadness, of lifelessness, that found full -expression in the attitude of the black-robed -woman who knelt alone in the high-vaulted -bedroom.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore was kneeling at her priedieu. Madame -Eleanore knelt at her priedieu, and did -not pray. Nay, the great grief, the unvoiced -bitterness in her heart, killed prayer. For, -henceforth, there was one near and unbearably -dear to her who must be praying for evermore. -And it was this thought and the vista of her -future lonely years that denied her, even as -she knelt, the consolation of religion.</p> - -<p class='c014'>To the still solitude of her bedchamber, and -always to the foot of her crucifix, the chatelaine -of <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Le Crépuscule</span> was accustomed to bring -her griefs; and there had been many griefs -and some very bitter ones in the thirty-four -years that she had reigned as mistress over -the Castle. But this last was one that, trained -though she was in the ways of sorrow, defied -all comfort, denied the right of consolation, -and forbade even the relief of an appeal to -the All-merciful. Laure, her daughter, the -star of her solitude, the youth and the joy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span>of her life, the object of all the blind devotion -of which her mother-soul was capable, -had this morning entered upon her novitiate -at the convent of the Virgins of the Magdalen. -Although Madame Eleanore’s family was celebrated -for its piety, though many a generation -of Lavals and <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Crépuscules</span> had rendered a -daughter to the eternal worship of God, there -were still no records left in either family of a -great mother-grief when the daughter left her -home. But madame, Laval as she was, Crépuscule -as she had learned to be, could not -find it in her heart to praise God for the loss -of her child.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Once again, after many years, years that she -could look back upon now as filled with broad -content, she was alone. Not since, many, -many years ago, she had come to the Castle -as a girl-bride, wife of a military lord, had such -utter desolation held her in its bonds,—such -desolation as, after the coming of her two -children, she had thought never to feel again. -In the days after the Seigneur’s first early departure -for Rennes, without her, she had felt -as now. It came back very vividly to her -memory, how he had ridden away for the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>capital, the city of war, of arms, of glittering -shield and piercing lance, of tourney and laughter -and song; how she had longed in silence to -ride thither at his side; how she had wept when -he was really gone; how she had watched bitterly, -day after day, for his return up the steep -road that came out of the forest on the edge of -the sand-downs below. Clearly indeed did her -youth return to Eleanore as she knelt here, in -the barred sunlight, alone with her unheeding -crucifix. And intertwined with this memory -was the new sense of blinding sorrow, the loss -of Laure.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The reality, as it came to her, seemed even -now vague and impossible. Laure, her girl, -her strong, wild, adventurous, high-hearted, -fearless girl, to become a nun! Laure, of -whom, in her own way, Eleanore had been -accustomed to think as she thought of the -great white gulls that veered, through sunlight -and storm, on straight-stretched pinions, along -the rocky coast, as a creature of light, of air, -above all of perfect, indestructible freedom! -This, her Laure, to become a nun! Spite of -what the Bishop of St. Nazaire had so earnestly -told her, how, in all strong natures, there are -<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>strong antitheses and quiet, governing depths -that no outer turbulence can disclose, Eleanore -rebelled at the disposal that had been made of -this nature. She knew herself too well to believe -that her daughter could renounce all the -joys of youth and of life without a single after-pang.</p> - -<p class='c014'>After this early mother-thought for the -child’s state, Eleanore’s self-grief returned -again with redoubled force; and her brain conjured -up a vision of the future,—that great, -shadowy future, that wrapped her heart around -in a cold and deadening despair.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The April wind blew higher through the -room, catching the tapestry curtains of the -immense bed and waving them about like blue -banners. The bars of sunlight mellowed and -broadened over the shrunken rushes and the -smooth stones of the floor. The surf boomed -louder as the tide advanced. And Eleanore, -still upon her knees, rocked her body in her -helpless rebellion, and found it in her heart to -question the righteous wisdom of her God. -She did not, however, come quite to this; for -which, afterwards, she found it expedient to -give thanks to the same deity. Her solitude -<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>was unexpectedly broken. There came a -knock upon the door, which immediately afterwards -opened, and Gerault, her son, entered -the room.</p> - -<p class='c014'>This fourth Seigneur of Le Crépuscule, a -dark-browed, lean, and rather handsome fellow, -clad in half armor and carrying on his wrist -a falcon, jessed and belled, was the first of -Eleanore’s two children. She reverenced him -as his father’s successor; she held affection for -him because she had borne him; and she -respected him and his wishes because he was -a man that commanded respect. But perhaps -it was this very respect, which had in it something -of distance, that killed in her the overwhelming -love which she had always felt for -his sister Laure, her youngest and beloved.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Gerault, seeing his mother’s attitude, stopped -short in the doorway. “Madame, I crave pardon! -I had not known you were at prayer,” -he said.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore rose from her knees a little hastily. -“Nay, Gerault, I was not at prayer. ’Tis an -old custom of mine to meditate in that place. -Enter thou and sit with me for a little.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Gerault bowed silently and accepted her invitation -<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>by seating himself near one of the -windows on a wooden settle. His silence -seemed to demand speech from his mother. -But Eleanore, once on her feet, had begun -slowly to pace the floor of her room, at the -same time losing herself again in her own -thoughts.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Without speaking and without any discomfort -at the continued silence, Gerault watched -his mother—contemplated her, rather—as -she walked. Often he had felt a pride—a -pride that suggested patronage—in that walk -of madame’s. Never, in any woman, had he -seen such a carriage, such conscious poise, such -dignity, such command. In his heart her son, -somewhat given to irreverent observation and -analysis of those about him, had named her -the “Quiet-Browed,” and the very fact that -he could have seen somewhat below the surface -and yet named her thus, was evidence -enough of her powers of self-control. It -was he who finally broke the silence between -them.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Well, madame, the change in our house -hath taken place. Laure’s new life is safely -begun; and she hath given what she could to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>the honor of our race. Now that it is done, -I return to Rennes, to the side of my Lord -Duke.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore made no pause in her walk, nor -did she betray by the slightest gesture her feeling -at the announcement. Too many times before -had she experienced this same sensation. -After a few seconds she asked quietly: “When -do you go?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>In spite of her self-control, her voice had -been a strain off the key, and now Gerault -looked at her keenly, asking: “There is a -reason why I should not ride to Rennes? I -have not thy permission to go?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore paused in her walk to turn and -look at him. There was just a suggestion of -scorn in her attitude. “Reason! Permission! -Was ever a reason why a Crépuscule -might not fare forth to Rennes, or one that -asked permission of a woman ere he went?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Again Gerault looked at her, this time in -that dignified disapproval that man uses to -cover an unlooked-for mortification. And the -Seigneur was decidedly lofty as he said: “I -have given thee pain, madame, though of how, -or wherefore, I am wofully ignorant.”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>“Pain, Gerault? Pain?” Eleanore repressed -herself again and immediately resumed -her walk. In a few seconds the calm, quiet -dignity returned, her mask was replaced, every -vestige of her feeling hidden, and she had -become once more the châtelaine of unvoiced -loneliness. Then she went on speaking: -“Pain, Gerault? Surely not. Know I not -enough of Rennes that I should not be well -content to have thee in that lordly place, with -thy rightful companions, men of thy blood? -Shall I not send thee gayly forth again to that -trysting-place of knightly arms?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“And yet, madame, I did but now surprise -in thy face a look of sorrow, of some unhappiness, -that is new to it.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Well, even so?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Ah, yes! It is Laure’s departure. Yet -that must not be too much mourned. Laure’s -wild ways had come to be a source of uneasiness -to both of us at times. ’Tis true that -there is lost an alliance that might have brought -much honor to Le Crépuscule. By the favor -of my Lord Duke, Laure might have wed -with Grantmesnil, Senlis, Angers itself, perhaps; -and there was ever Laval.—Yet—”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>He paused musingly, not seeing the look -that had come back into the face of madame. -Only when she stopped again and turned to -him did he utter a soft exclamation, half surprise -and half helpless apology. But Eleanore, -smiling at him sadly, began, in that voice that -had long been tuned to the stillness of the -Castle: “If I could but make thee understand, -Gerault! If I could make thee look upon my -hours of loneliness here—and see—Gerault, -it is not a matter of alliance, or of honor, or -of dishonor, with Laure. It is that she was my -child, my daughter, my companion—how -adored!—here, in this—this great Castle of -Twilight. Neither thou nor any man can -know what our lives are.—But think, Gerault—think -of me and of the Castle after thou art -gone. What is there for me here? The -tasks that I invent to fill the hours are useless -to deaden thought. They are not changed -from the occupations of thirty years ago. -Nor, methinks, have women known aught else -than spinning, weaving, sewing, spinning again, -since the days of the earliest kings,—the Kings -of Jerusalem.—And day after day through the -long years I dwell here in this barren spot—dependent -<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>on others for what happiness I am -to get in my life. And now—now the -Church, in which always my hope of another, -better life hath lain, taketh my child from me. -Let then the Church give me something in -place of her! Let the Church pay back -something of its debt. And thou also, my -son,—give me some help to live through the -unending days of thy absence in Rennes.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I, madame!—the Church!—What art -thou saying?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Hast thou not heard me?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I have heard. But what shall I do, my -mother?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Listen, Gerault. The Church hath taken -a daughter from me. Thou, by the aid of -the Church, canst give me another. Gerault, -thou must marry. Marry, my son. Bring -thy wife home to me!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Gerault sprang to his feet with an expression -on his face that his mother had never before -called there. For a moment he looked at her, -his eyes saying what his lips would not. Then, -gradually, the fire in his face died down, and he -reseated himself slowly on the settle, while the -bird on his wrist, a wild <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">hagard</span></i>, fluttered its -<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>wings, and dug its talons painfully into the -knight’s flesh.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Marry!” said Gerault, at length, in a -voice that sounded strange to his own ears. -“Marry! Hast thou forgotten?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nay, I have not forgotten; nor has anyone -in the Castle. But thou, Gerault, must -forget. It is now five years since, and thou -art more than come to man’s estate. Even -then thou wast not young.—Nay, Gerault, I -do not forget that cruel thing. Yet we must -all go.—And ere I die I must see thee wed. -’Tis not only for myself, child. It is for the -house, and the line of Crépuscule. Shall it be -lost in four generations?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Frowning, Gerault rose. “Well, madame, -not as yet have I seen in Brittany the maid -that I would wed, barring always—” He -shook himself to dissipate the memory that -was on him. “To-morrow I and Courtoise -ride forth to Rennes. Let me now leave thee -once more to thy meditations.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Gerault went to the door, opened it, turned -to look once at his mother, whose face he could -not see, and then, with an audible sigh, went -quietly away. Each was ignorant of the other’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>feelings. As Eleanore moved over toward the -open windows that looked off upon the sea, -her eyes, tear-blinded, saw nothing of the broad -plain of blue and sparkling gold that stretched -infinitely away before her. Nor did she dream -of the spirit of reawakened bitterness and desolation -that her words had conjured up in -Gerault’s heart. But the Seigneur’s calm and -unruffled expression concealed a very storm of -reawakened misery as he descended the great -stone staircase of the Castle, passed through -the empty lower hall, and so out into the -courtyard.</p> - -<p class='c014'>This courtyard was always the liveliest spot -about the chateau. Le Crépuscule itself was -very large, and its adjacent buildings were on a -corresponding scale. Like all the feudal fortress-castles -of its time, it was almost a little -city in itself. It dated from the year 1203, -and had been built by the first lord of the -name, Bernard, a left-handed scion of Coucy, -who had been called Crépuscule from his colors, -two contrasting shades of gray. Since his time, -each of its lords had added to its strength or -its convenience, till now, in the year 1380, it -was the strongest chateau on the South Breton -<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>coast. One side was built on the very edge of -an immense cliff against which the Atlantic -surf had beaten unceasingly through the ages. -The other three sides were well protected, first -by a heavy wall that surrounded the whole -courtyard with its various buildings, beyond -which came a broad strip of garden land and -pasturage, bounded on the far side by the second, -or lower wall, and a dry moat. The keep -was of a size proportionate to the Castle; and -the number of men-at-arms that were kept in -it taxed the coffers of the rather meagre estate -to the utmost for food and pay.</p> - -<p class='c014'>When Gerault entered the courtyard a girl -stood drawing water from the round, stone -well. Two or three henchmen lolled in the -doorway of the keep, chaffing a peasant who -had come up the hill from one of the manor -farms carrying eggs in a big basket. Just outside -the stables, which occupied the whole east -side of the courtyard, a boy stood rubbing -down a sleek, white palfrey. All of these -people respectfully saluted their lord, who returned -them rather a curt recognition as he -passed round the west tower on his way to a -little narrow building just in front of the north -<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>gate, in which his falcons were housed through -the winter. Gerault had a great passion for -hawking, and his birds were always objects -of solicitude with him. He and Courtoise, -his squire, were accustomed to spend much -time together in this little building, and in the -open-air falconry on the terrace outside the -north gate, where young birds or newly captured -ones were trained.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Just now Gerault stood in the doorway of -the falcon-house, looking around him for -Courtoise, whom he had thought to find -within. He was speaking to the bird on his -wrist, his mind still occupied with the recent -talk with his mother, when, through the gate, -came a burst of laughter and song, and he -raised his eyes to see a giddy company swaying -toward him in the measure of a “carole”<a id='r1' /><a href='#f1' class='c015'><sup>[1]</sup></a> -led by Courtoise and Laure’s foster-sister, -Alixe la Rieuse. Moving a little out of their -way he stood and watched the group go by,—the -demoiselles and the squires of the Castle -household, retained by his mother as company -for herself, also to be trained in etiquette -<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>according to their several stations. And a -pretty enough company of youth and gayety -they were: Berthe, Yseult, Isabelle, Viviane, -daughters all of noble houses; with Roland of -St. Bertaux, Louis of Florence, Robert Meloc, -and Guy d’Armenonville, called “le Trouvé.” -But, of them all, Alixe, surnamed the Laughing -One, was the brightest of eye, the warmest -of color, and the lightest of foot.</p> - -<div class='footnote' id='f1'> -<p class='c014'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. A “carole” was originally a dance to which the dancers -sang their own accompaniment.</p> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>As they went by, Gerault signalled to his -squire, Courtoise, and the young fellow would -have disengaged himself immediately from his -companions, but that Alixe suddenly broke -her step, dropped the hand of Robert Meloc, -who was behind her, and leaving the company, -ran to Gerault’s side, dragging Courtoise -with her. The dance ceased while the -young people stood still, staring at their erstwhile -leaders. Alixe, however, impatiently -motioned them on.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Go back to the Castle with your ‘<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Roi -qui ne ment pas</span>.’<a id='r2' /><a href='#f2' class='c015'><sup>[2]</sup></a> I will come soon.”</p> - -<div class='footnote' id='f2'> -<p class='c014'><a href='#r2'>2</a>. An old-time game.</p> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>Obedient to her command, the little company -resumed their quaint song, and, with -steps that lagged a little, passed into the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>Castle, leaving their arbitrary leader behind -them, with the Seigneur and his squire.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Gerault was silent till the young people -had gone. Then he turned to Alixe, but, -before he had time to speak, she broke in -hastily:</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Let me go with you to the falcons. You -must see Bec-Hardi sit upon my wrist, and -attack his <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pât</span></i> on the rope.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Diable!—Bec-Hardi!—Thou hast a -genius with the birds, Alixe. The <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">hagard</span></i> will -not move for me.” Gerault was all attention -to her now.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe did not answer his praise, but started -quickly forward toward the gate through which -she had just come, beyond which was the strip -of turf where the falcons lived in summer. -Gerault and Courtoise followed her at a -slower pace, and she caught some disjointed -words spoken by the Seigneur behind her:—“Rennes”—“to-morrow”—“horses.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>As these came to her ears, Alixe’s steps -grew laggard, for she had put the thoughts -together, and instantly her mood changed -from golden irresponsibility to dull and -dreary melancholy. For a long time she had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>concealed in her heart the deep sorrow that -she felt at the prospective loss of her life-playmate, -Laure, now actually gone, and gone -forever. She had resigned herself to the -thought of solitary adventures on moor and -cliff, and lonely sails on the breezy, treacherous -bay, in a more than treacherous boat,—such -wild and risky amusements as she and -the daughter of Le Crépuscule had loved to -indulge together. Laure was gone, and she -had kept herself from tears. But now—now, -at these words of Gerault’s, there suddenly -rose before her a vivid picture of life in the -Castle without either brother or sister. Toward -Gerault she had no such feeling as that -which she had held for Laure. He was a man -to her, and the fact made a vast difference. -At times she entertained for him a violent -enthusiasm; at other times she treated him -with infinite scorn. But till now she had -never confessed, even to herself, how much -interest he had added to the monotonous -Castle life. Considering her wayward nature, -it was certainly anomalous that, in her first -rush of displeasure, there came to her the -thought of Eleanore, the mother now doubly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>bereft. And for madame she felt a sympathy -that was entirely new.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Gerault and his squire reached the outdoor -falconry before Alixe, whom they perceived to -have fallen into one of her sudden reveries. -Accustomed to her rapid changes of mood, -neither man took much heed of her slow -steps and bent head. And when she reached -the falconry and saw the birds, her interest in -them brought over her again a wave of animation.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The outdoor falconry was a long strip of -turf that lay between the flower-terrace and the -kitchen-garden. Into this turf had been driven -about twenty heavy stakes, to which were nailed -wooden cross-pieces. On nearly every one of -these a falcon perched, and a strong cord, tied -about one leg, fastened each to his own stake. -At sight of their master, whom they knew perfectly -well, all the birds set up a peculiar, harsh -cry, at the same time eagerly flapping their -wings, appealing, as best they could, for an -hour or two of freedom. Alixe ran at once -down to the end of the second row of stakes, -where sat a half-grown bird, striking viciously -at his perch with his iron beak.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>Courtoise and Gerault ceased their conversation -when Alixe went up to this bird and -addressed it in a curious jargon of Latin and -Breton-French. Courtoise betrayed an admiring -interest when she stooped to lay her -hand on the bird’s feathers; and Gerault -called involuntarily,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Have a care, Alixe!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>The girl, however, had her way with the -creature. At sound of her voice it became -attentive. At the touch of her hand it half -raised its wings, the motion indicating expectant -delight. In a moment more it had -hopped upon the girl’s wrist, and sat there, -swaying and preening contentedly.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Sang Dieu, Alixe, thou hast done that well! -Thou sayest he will also attack the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pât</span></i> from -your hand?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe merely nodded. To all appearances, -she was wholly engrossed with the bird, which -she continued to handle. Gerault and Courtoise -had come close to her side, though the -falcon betrayed its displeasure at their approach. -All three of them had been silent -for some seconds, when Alixe turned her -green eyes upon the Seigneur, and, looking -<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>at him with a glance that carried discomfort -with it, said in a very precise and cutting -tone:</p> - -<p class='c014'>“So you leave Le Crépuscule to-morrow, -Gerault? And for how long?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“That I cannot tell,” answered Gerault, exhibiting -no annoyance. “For as long a time -as Duke Jean will accept my services.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Ah! then there will be fighting. I had -not heard of a war. Tell me of it.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Gerault became suddenly embarrassed and -correspondingly displeased. “Of what import -can it be to you, a woman, whether there is -war or peace?” he inquired.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Oh, there is great import.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Prithee, what may it be?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“This: that an there were indeed a war -thou mightest be forgiven thy great selfishness -in going forth to pleasure, leaving thy mother -here in her loneliness and sorrow; whereas—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Silence, Alixe! Thine insolence merits -the whip,” cried Courtoise.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Peace, boy!” said Gerault, shortly, and -forthwith turned again to the demoiselle. -“And is not my mother long accustomed to -this life, and well content with it? Is she not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>lady of a great castle, mistress of enviable -estates? Hath she not a position to be -proud of? From her speech and thine one -might think—” he snapped his fingers impatiently.—“Come -you with me, Alixe. -Let us walk here together on the turf, while -I say to you certain things. Thou, Courtoise, -return to the Castle if thou wilt.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>The squire, however, chose to remain in the -field, and stood leaning against the wall, watching -the falcons at his feet, and whistling under -his breath for his own amusement. Alixe replaced -Bec-Hardi, screaming angrily and flapping -its wings, and moved off beside Gerault, -her long red houppelande and mantle trailing -upon the grass round her feet, the veil from -her filet flowing behind her nearly to the -ground. Long time these two, Lord of Le -Crépuscule and his almost sister, walked -together in the sunny light of the late afternoon. -And long Courtoise the squire watched -them as they went. Although Gerault had -said, somewhat in ire, that he had a matter to -speak of with her, it was Alixe that talked the -most, and from his manner it could be seen -that Gerault was fallen very much under the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>influence of her peculiar insistence. What it -was they spoke of, Courtoise could only guess—and -fear. For, though he might hold in -his heart some sympathy with madame in -her loneliness, yet the squire was a man, and -young; and his young thoughts drew with -delight the picture of Rennes’ gayeties in the -summer-time, when no war was toward and the -court alive with merriment. Indeed, it was not -very wonderful that he prayed to be off on the -morrow; but the occasional glimpse that he -got of his lord’s face carried doubt into his -heart.</p> - -<p class='c014'>As the squire stood there by the wall, musing, -Madame Eleanore herself came out of the -courtyard into the field. Her rosary hung -from her waist, and in her hand was a little -volume of Latin prayers. In some way, of -which she was probably unconscious, the placid -manner of her as she came into the field for her -evening walk caused Courtoise’s idle dreams -of gayety to vanish away, and the present, so -tinged with the spirit of sweet melancholy, to -become the only reality. The squire at once -advanced toward his lady, while, ere he reached -her, Alixe and Gerault had halted at her side.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>“Indeed, my mother, thou art well come -hither at this time. Prithee join us in our -walk. For some time past Alixe and I have -been speaking of thee. See, the air is sweet, -for it comes off the fields to-night.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Indeed, ’tis sweet—sweeter than summer,” -said Eleanore, smiling as she joined -the twain. “But mayhap I shall break your -pleasure by coming with you, for you are gay -and young, and I—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>They moved on without having noticed him, -and Courtoise lost the rest of Eleanore’s speech. -But the squire remained in the field, watching -the three move back and forth in the deepening -dusk. When they came toward him for -the last time, and passed through the gate in -the north wall, returning to the Castle, all -three faces were as calm as madame’s, and -Courtoise permitted himself only one sigh for -the lost summer at Rennes.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Oddly enough, the squire’s regrets proved -to be premature, for immediately after the -evening meal he was summoned by Gerault to -the Seigneur’s room, to make ready for the -journey. Gerault did not deign to inform his -squire of the substance of his talk in the fields, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>but from the tranquillity of his manner Courtoise -could not but perceive that everything -had gone well. It was a late hour when all -the necessary preparations had been made; and -then the two, lord and squire, went together to -the chapel and were there confessed by Anselm, -the steward-priest; after which they bade each -other a good-night, and sought their rest.</p> - -<p class='c014'>By sunrise, next morning, the whole Castle -had assembled at the drawbridge, to say God-speed -to their departing lord. Madame Eleanore, -in bliault, houppelande, mantle, and coif -all of black and white, held Gerault’s stirrup-cup, -and smiled as she spoke with him. There -was a chorus of chattering demoiselles and a -boyish clattering of swords and little armor-pieces -from the young squires, as Gerault -buckled on his shield, whereon was wrought the -motto and device of Crépuscule. Courtoise -had already fastened to his lord the golden -spurs. And now the two were mounted and -ready, Gerault with lance in rest and white -reins gathered on his horse’s neck; Courtoise, -brimming with delight, now and then giving -his steed a heel in flank that caused him to rear -and curvet with graceful spirit. For the last -<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>time Gerault bent to his mother’s lips, and -for the last time he looked vainly over the -company for a glimpse of Alixe, his recent -mentor. Finally his spurs went home. The -drawbridge was down before him, the portcullis -raised. Amid a chorus of farewell -cries, he and Courtoise swept away together, -over the bridge and down the long, gentle -hill, and out upon the Rennes road, which, -at some twelve miles from Le Crépuscule, -passed the priory-convent of Les Vierges de -la Madeleine.</p> - -<p class='c014'>When the twain were gone, and the group -prepared to disperse,—the squires-at-arms to -their sword-practice under the captain of the -keep, the sighing demoiselles to their long -morning of weaving and embroidery,—Alixe -suddenly appeared from the watch-tower close -at hand, inquiring for Madame Eleanore.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Methinks she hath retreated to her room, -to say her prayers for the Seigneur’s safe journey,” -Berthe told her. And Alixe, with a nod -of thanks, ran to the Castle, and ascended to -madame’s room.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The door was open, for madame was not at -prayer. She stood at the open window, looking -<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>out upon the sea. Alixe could not see her -face, but from the line of her shoulders she -read much of her lady’s heart.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Madame,” she said, in a half-whisper.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore turned quickly. “Alixe!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Madame Eleanore—mother—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>A terrible sob broke from the older woman’s -throat, and suddenly she fell upon her knees -beside a wooden settle, and, burying her face -in her hands, finally gave way to her desolation. -Alixe, who had opened her heart, now comforted -her as best she could, soothing her, -caressing her, whispering to her in a magnetic, -gentle voice, till madame’s grief had been -nearly washed away. Then the young girl -said, softly, in her ear:</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Think, madame! ’tis now but eleven days -till thou mayest ride out to Laure at the priory. -And there thou canst talk with her alone, and -for as long as thou wilt. Also, when her novitiate -is at an end, she may come here to thee, -once in a fortnight, for so the Mother-prioress -hath said.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore held Alixe’s hand close to her -breast, and while she stroked it, a little convulsively, -she said, with returning self-control: -<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>“I thank thee—I thank thee—Alixe, for thy -good comfort.” Then, in a different tone, she -added, with a little sigh: “Eleven days—eleven -ages—how many others have I still -to spend—alone?”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'><em>CHAPTER TWO</em><br /> <span class='large'>THE SILENCE OF YOUTH</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='c013'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_041.jpg' width='100' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> -The priory-convent of the Virgins -of the Magdalen was as -old as any nunnery in Brittany -of its repute. It had -been founded in the early days -of the tenth Louis of France -and his good lady of Burgundy, long before -the death of the last of the Dreux lords of -the dukedom. It was celebrated for more -than its age, however; for through three centuries -it had held in ecclesiastic Brittany, for -its wealth, its exclusiveness, and, above either -of these things, its unswerving chastity, a place -as unique as it was gratifying. In the year -1381 no breath of scandal had ever disturbed -its fragrant atmosphere. Moreover, though -this was a fact not much regarded by people -in authority, it was a remarkably comfortable -<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>little house, of excellent architecture and ample -room for the practice of any amount of worship. -Its situation, however, was lonely. It -stood nearly at the end of the Rennes coast -road, on the outskirts of a thick forest, twenty -miles from the town of St. Nazaire-by-the-sea, -and twelve from the Chateau of Le Crépuscule. -And it was here, in this pleasant if austere -retreat, that many a noble lady of Laval and -Crépuscule had ended her youth and worn her -life away in the endeavor to attain undying -sanctity.</p> - -<p class='c014'>On a certain afternoon in this mid-spring -of 1381, the very day, indeed, that Lord -Gerault took to the Rennes road to ease his -ennui, a little company of nuns sat out in the -convent garden, embroidering away their recreation -time. The day was exquisite: sunny, a -little chilly, its breeze laden with the rare perfume -of awakening summer. The garden, at -this season of the year, was a place of wondrous -beauty, redolent of rich, pregnant soil, -and all shimmering with the misty green -of tender grass and countless leaf-buds, from -the midst of which a few flowers, pale primroses -and crocuses and a hyacinth or two, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>peered forth, starring the new-planted beds -with the first fruits of this new union of -earth and sky.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The spirit of the spring ruled supreme over -all natural things. Only the creatures of God, -the self-consecrated nuns, sat in the midst of -this wonder of the young world, untouched by -it. Heedless to the uttermost of this greatest -of worldly blessings, they sat plying their needles -in and out of their bright-colored, ecclesiastical -fabrics, listening, in their dull and dreamy way, -to the voice of one of their number who was -droning out to them for the thousandth time -the old and long-familiar laws of their order, -expressed in the “Rhymed Rule of St. Benedict.” -One only among them seemed not -of their mood. This was a young girl, white-robed -like all the rest, her unveiled head proclaiming -her novitiate. As became her station -she bent decorously to her task, and it had -taken a close observer to see and read all the -little signs she gave of consciousness of the -world around her, the green, growing things, -and the liquid bird-songs that came trilling out -of the forest near at hand. Probably not even -the most skilled of readers could have recognized -<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>all the meaning in the long, slow looks, -half wondrous and half probing, with which, -every now and again, she traversed the circle -of faces about her. Her self-restraint was very -nearly flawless, and was successfully maintained -throughout the long period of recreation; so -that not one of her companions guessed the -relief she felt when the first clang of the vesper-bell -roused them from their trance-like dulness. -But the young girl wondered a little at herself -when she perceived that her brows were damp -with the sweat of the constraint.</p> - -<p class='c014'>At this time Laure of Le Crépuscule was -sixteen years of age, and pretty as a flower to -look upon. She was slim and white-faced, -with immense, limpid brown eyes that were -wont to move rather slowly, and burnished -brown hair hanging in twists to her knees: an -object for men to rave over, had any man -worth so calling ever set eyes upon her. She -was young enough and pure enough to be of -unquestioning innocence; and, until now, the -fiery life in her had found sufficient outlet -in unlimited bodily exercise. She had seen -nothing of real life, and never dreamed of the -talent she possessed for it. It was from her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>own heart that the wish to consecrate herself -to the eternal worship of God had come; for -she believed that in this way she should find -a haven for those terrible and fathomless mental -storms of which she had weathered many -in her young life, and of which her own -mother never so much as dreamed. Utterly -ignorant of her real self, she was yet a girl -of strong intellect, of great versatility, of over-weening -passions, and withal as feminine a -creature as the Creator ever fashioned. Both -her temperament and her appearance more -resembled the dwellers of the far South—Provence -or even Navarre—than the children -of the rugged, chilly shores of northern Brittany; -for her skin had the dark, creamy pallor -of the South, and her eyes held none of the -keen fire that glows in the North, while her -hair grew low above her smooth, white brow.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure’s temperament was dramatically mobile. -She adapted herself almost unconsciously -to any mode or situation of life, and this, -though she did not know it, was all that she -was doing now. It was with real, if subdued -pleasure that she went through the services of -the day. From matins, which, at this period -<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>of the year, began at the cheerless hour of four -in the morning, till compline, at eight in the -evening, when the church bell tolled the end -of another day of prayer, Laure’s nature was -under a kind of religious spell, which she and -those about her had joyfully interpreted as a -true vocation.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The first eleven days of Laure’s convent -life passed away in comparative calmness; and -she found no weariness in them. On the -twelfth, Madame Eleanore rode in from Le -Crépuscule to see her daughter. She was admitted -to the convent as speedily as if the little -lay sister had known the devouring eagerness -of the mother-heart; and because she was a -lady of consequence, and because she was -known to be very generous to the Church, and -especially because the Bishop of St. Nazaire -was her close friend, she was not left to wait in -the reception-room, but conducted straight to -the Prioress’ cell.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Mère Piteuse received Madame Eleanore -with anxious cordiality. After their greetings -the guest seated herself, and was obliged to -keep silence for a moment before she could -ask quietly,—</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>“And Laure, Reverend Mother,—how fares -my child? Is she content with you?” Eleanore’s -heart throbbed with unconfessed hope -as she asked this question. For if Laure was -<em>not</em> content, she might return at will to the -Castle, her home, and her mother’s heart.</p> - -<p class='c014'>But the Prioress returned Eleanore’s look -with a smile of satisfaction. “In a moment -Laure will come hither. I have sent for her. -Then thou shalt learn from her own lips how -well her life goes. Never, I think, hath our -priory received a new daughter that showed -herself so happy in her vocation. We shall -call her name Angelique at her consecration.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore felt her body grow cold, and her -head swim. Her face, however, betrayed -nothing. Her little girl, then, was really -gone! Laure, the wild bird, was tamable. -She—<em>could</em> she become “Angelique”?</p> - -<p class='c014'>Neither madame nor the Prioress spoke -again till there was a sound of gentle footsteps -in the corridor, followed by a light tap on the -wooden door of the cell.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Enter!” cried the Prioress; and Laure -came quietly in.</p> - -<p class='c014'>First of all she bowed to Mère Piteuse. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>Then, as Eleanore involuntarily held out her -arms, the girl went into them, and kissed her -mother with a warmth and a sweetness that -perhaps Eleanore had not known from her -before. At the same moment the Prioress -rose quietly, and left the room. The instant -that she was gone, Eleanore seized the girl in -a still closer embrace, and held her tightly and -more tightly to her breast.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Laure, my darling! Laure, my sweet -child! how hath my heart yearned for thee! -How hath thy name lain ever on my lips while -I slept, and been enshrined in my heart by -day!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>The young girl’s arms wound themselves -about her mother’s neck, and she laid her head -upon that shoulder where it had been wont to -rest in her babyhood. And Laure sighed a -little, not unhappily, but like a child tired of -play.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Laure, wilt thou remain here in the convent? -Art thou happy? Dost thou wish it, or -wilt thou come home again to Crépuscule?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>A sudden image of the gray Castle, with its -vast hall, and the great fire blazing in the -chimney-place within, and all the well-known -<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>figures assembled there for a meal,—Alixe, -Gerault, the demoiselles and young squires -headed by Courtoise, and the burly men-at-arms -that had played with her and carried her -about as a little child,—all the long-familiar, -comfortable scenes of her old life came before -the girl’s eye. And then—then she drew a -little breath and answered her mother, unfaltering: -“’Tis beautiful here, and sweet and -holy withal. I am content, dear mother. I -will remain.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“And hast thou, then, the vocation in thy -heart, whereby some souls are claimed of God -from birth to death, and find the utmost of -their happiness in His communion?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure’s great eyes fixed themselves upon the -mother’s sad face as she replied again, very -softly: “Yea, my mother. That, from my -heart, do I believe.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore sighed deeply, and then quickly -smiled again. “Think not that I mourn, my -daughter, for having yielded thee up to the -Church. May this blessed spirit remain in -thee, bringing thee everlasting peace.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Then, while Laure still clung to her, the -mother herself put the closely clasped arms -<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>away from her neck, and drew the novice to -her feet. “Now, my Laure, I must go. But -my thoughts are still left with thee.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“But thou wilt come, mother?—In ten -days’ time thou wilt come to me again?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Yea, sith it is permitted by the rules that -I see thee once more, I will surely come,” she -answered quietly.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Laure will greatly rejoice at thy coming,” -said the Prioress, gently, from the doorway.</p> - -<p class='c014'>So Eleanore renewed her promise, and -shortly after rode away from the priory gate, -into the thick wood through which ran the -road to Crépuscule.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Her mother’s visit brought Laure two days -of extremest homesickness and yearning. Then -she regained her independence, and began to -find a new delight in her surroundings. The -perfect peace of it, the infinite, delightful detail -of worship, with its multifarious candle-points, -and its continual clouds of fragrant incense, all -wrought together into a life of undeviating -regularity, brought to the novice a sense of -peculiar safety and freedom from vexation or -care that was quite new to her, for all her -youth. The day began with matins, repeated -<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>by each nun alone in her cell. Laure had -been given a room in a corner of the priory, at -the very end of the corridor of novices, and -she gained therefrom an added sense of exclusiveness -and seclusion. She had not once -been late in her answer to the matins bell, and -the mistress of novices, passing Laure’s cell on -her first round of the day, had never failed to -find her praying. Laure came of a pious house, -and had known her prayers, all the forms of -them, long before she entered the priory. They -required no thought in the repetition, and -therefore there was many a morning when she -played the parrot at her desk, either too sleepy, -or too much occupied with thoughts and dreams, -to heed the familiar addresses to God. This -was not entirely a fault, perhaps. The mornings -came very early in these days, and there -were wonderful things to be seen through her -cell-window. She saw the dawn, golden-girdled, -garbed in flowing rose-color, unlock the eastern -portals of the sky. She saw stars and moon -glimmer faintly and more faint, and finally sink -to rest under the high, clear green of the morning -heaven. Last of all, over the feathery line -of trees that made a horizon for her at her cell-window, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>she could see the first dazzling ladder -of the sun lifted up to lean against the east. -And then Laure would long for the murmur -of devotion to be stilled in the Abbey, for -sun-mists were filling the Heavens, and from -the forest the bird-chorus rose to a full-throated -<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tutti</span></i>, in its hymn of glorification to the new -day.</p> - -<p class='c014'>This morning benediction that she found, -Laure kept to herself by day, and carried with -her until dark. There was no one in the -priory to whom she could have confided her -pleasure, for there was none in the Abbey -that had her love, or, indeed, any love at -all, for the world that God had made for -Himself and for mankind. The day-tasks -also had their pleasures for the novice. She -learned, in time, that she was not obliged -to fill her recreation hours with embroidery; -but that she might sleep, or pray, or work -in the garden, or do whatever a quiet fancy -should select. So she chose to befriend the -soil, and played with it as if it were a tender -companion. And after her exercise here, -the rest of the day, nones, vespers, supper, -confession, and compline, melted away almost -<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>unheeded, leaving her at last to the sweet-breathed -night, and to a sleep as dreamless -and as sound as that of any baby.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In this most simple way, without any untoward -happening, without her once leaving -the priory, the days flowed on, spring melted -into summer, and Laure found herself possessed -of an infinite and ever-increasing content, -the great secret of which probably lay -in the fact that every waking hour had its -occupation. She had entered her new life in -the most beautiful time of the year, and, heedless -of this, began, in her delusive happiness, -to wonder why, long ago, the whole world had -not taken to such existence. She had plenty -of time to indulge in dreams,—vague and fragile -dreams of the great world and the people -dwelling therein, that she should never come -to know. But the fact that she could never -know them did not come home to her with -the force of a deprivation. She did not feel -herself to be a hopeless prisoner. She was -not professed; and the fact that there still -remained to her a free choice easily kept her -from any over-vivid perception of the eternal -dulness of convent life.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>Once in two weeks Madame Eleanore came -to see her, and if these visits were bitter to -the mother, Laure never guessed it. Also, -from time to time, the professed nuns would -leave the convent for a day or two at a -time, on what errands the novices were not -told. But Laure knew that similar privileges -would be hers after her profession.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The summer, in its fulness and beauty, -passed away. Purple autumn came and went. -And one day, in the first cold weather, Laure -was summoned to the Mother-prioress’ room, -where she was told a proud thing. It was -that, if she chose profession at the end of -her novitiate, which would come in the -Christmas season, her consecration might take -place at the same time, by special permission -from the highest power; for, by ordinary -ecclesiastic law, she was still many years too -young for this consummation of the celibate -life. But if she so chose, his Grace the Bishop -of St. Nazaire would perform the ceremony -of sanctification on the twenty-sixth of December, -directly after the forty-eight-hour vigil -of the birth of the Christ.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure heard this news with every appearance -<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>and every expression of delight; and -when she returned to the church for tierce -and morning mass, she tried, all through -the service, to bring herself face to face with -herself, to appreciate, as she was conscious -that she must, sooner or later, the intense -gravity of her position. But for some reason, -by some failure of concentrative force, she -could not bring her mind to the point of -understanding. Over and over again her -thoughts slid around that one fact that she -knew she must try to realize,—how, after -the giving of her final pledge, there could -be no turning back, there could be no escape, -while she should live, from this life of -prayer. She did not appreciate it at all. -She only remembered that she had been very -contented here, and that the days were never -long.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In the weeks that followed her talk with -Mère Piteuse, Laure enacted this same scene -of effort with herself many times, always -futilely. As a matter of fact, it was too grave -a responsibility to put upon the shoulders -of a child in years and a less than child in -experience. But this unfairness was one of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>the prerogatives of monasticism, unappreciated -to this day.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Christmas time drew near; and gradually -Laure dropped her efforts toward understanding -and fell into dreams of a varied and complex, -if unimportant, nature. She was to be -professed alone, on the day after Christmas. -No novice had entered the convent within -three months of her, and, moreover, her birth -and position made it desirable that she should -be surrounded by a little extra pomp; for, -although Laure did not know it, she was much -looked up to by the nuns of humbler birth, -and universally regarded as a future prioress -of the house. During the last days of her -novitiate the young girl was treated with -peculiar reverence and consideration, and she -was given a good deal of time for solitary reflection -and prayer. Every day she was summoned -to the cell of the Prioress, who herself -gave the girl good counsel and instruction -upon the higher life; while so much general -attention was paid her that Laure became a -little astonished at her own importance.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In the first three weeks of December -Madame Eleanore did not come at all to see -<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>her daughter, and Laure grew lonely for her. -She suspected nothing of her mother’s heart-sickness -over the approaching ceremony that -was to cut her child off from her forever; and, -indeed, had Laure been told of the mother-feeling, -she could not have understood it.</p> - -<p class='c014'>On the afternoon of the twenty-third day of -December the novice was kneeling in her cell, -supposedly at prayer, in reality indulging in a -rather forlorn and melancholy reverie. It was -the hour of recreation; and the convent was -very quiet, for most of the nuns were sleeping, -in preparation for the strain of the forty-eight-hour -Christmas service. The stillness -brought a chill to Laure’s heart, and she was -near to tears, when her door was suddenly -pushed open, and some one halted there. -Laure turned quickly enough to see the white-robed -Prioress disappear, closing the door behind -a figure that remained motionless inside -the threshold.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“My mother!” cried Laure, springing to -her feet.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Laure,” was the quivering response, as -Eleanore held out her arms.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The dreamer, suddenly become a little child, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>went into the mother-clasp, her pristine home, -and was half carried over to the only seat in -the room,—a wooden tabouret, large enough -for only one. Upon this Eleanore seated herself, -while Laure sank to the floor beside her, -huddling close to the human warmth of her -mother, her head lying in that mother’s lap, -both hands held tightly in the larger, stronger, -older ones.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Laure—my Laure—my little Laure!” -was all that, at this time, madame could force -her lips to say. And hearing it, the girl, suddenly -overwrought and overswept with repressed -yearning for home love, all at once -burst into a convulsive flood of tears.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Some moments passed, and the sobs, instead -of diminishing, began to increase in violence, -till Eleanore became alarmed. Certain unexpressed -fears took possession of her. She -made no effort to bring them into definite -order in her mind. They merely joined themselves -to a shadow that had long since come -upon her in the form of a question: What, -in bare reality, was this vast monster called -“the Church”? Why had it a right to step -thus between mother and child? How could -<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>such a thing be called holy? Filled with this -idea, and realizing to the full how desperately -short was her chance, Eleanore set herself to -work, through every means known to her, to -quiet Laure, to stop her tears, and to gain her -earnest attention.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Under madame’s determined calm, it was -not long before Laure was brought back to -self-control. And when she was quiet, the -mother, sitting very straight in her place, drew -the girl to her feet, and, holding her fast by -the hand, while she looked steadily into the -clear, brown eyes, she asked, slowly, with an -emphasis born of her desperation,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Laure, is it indeed in thy heart to remain, -of thy free will and desire, forever in this -house, forsaking all that was dear to thee of -youth and love, and freedom, in thy home, -Le Crépuscule?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure, while she looked at her mother, gave -a sudden sigh, and her face became staring -pale. Eleanore strove to fathom her daughter’s -look, but could know nothing of the -flood of natural desire and youth that was -oversweeping the girl. Laure’s resistance -against it was silence. She sat still, cowed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>and bent, while the noise of the waters filled -her ears and her heart was near to bursting -with suffocation and yearning. Before this -silence, however, these passionate moments -gradually ebbed away. The wave retreated, -and her heart shut tight. Words and phrases -from Holy Scriptures, books of prayer, and St. -Benedict’s Rule, came crowding to her, and -she considered to herself how she might show -her mother the sin of her suggestion. But, as -she had kept silence one way, so now she -practised it in the other. After the long pause -her voice found itself in three words only,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“My mother!—madame!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore’s eyes fell. Her hope was gone. -For the thousandth time her religion rose to -shame her, before her child, for the absorbing -love of her motherhood. Presently Laure, -standing before her, more like her judge than -like the disconsolate creature she had so lately -comforted, spoke again,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Madame, here in this place have I found -contentment. There is no sorrow and no desire -when one lives but to pray and sleep, and -wake and pray again. God lives here continually -in our hearts and He begets in us the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>love that we bear for each other. Moreover, -after my profession and consecration, much -freedom will be added to my life. I shall have -no more long hours of instruction, nor shall -I be called on to do the bidding of any one -save perhaps that of the Reverend Mother. -And whereas thou ridest hither to me each -fortnight, I, after my vow, may go instead to -thee, to see thee and mine ancient home.—Nay, -mother, forgive me that I rebuke thy -words; but thou must not urge me thus, for -my spirit is not as yet very strong or very -much tried, and is like to break under temptation.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Dry-eyed and straight-lipped, Eleanore -rose from her place and kissed her daughter, -saying,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“This is farewell, dear child, till thou shalt -come home to me for the first time after thy -wedding with Heaven. My humble and earthly -blessing be upon thee,—and mayst thou find -thy spirit strong, my Laure, when thou shalt -have need of it; as, in God’s time, thou surely -wilt.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Once again the mother kissed her girl—kissed -her in final renunciation. Laure felt a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>burning upon her brow long after madame -had left the room. Eleanore’s last words also -somewhat affected the novice,—brought her -a dim sense of uneasiness and foreboding. But -it was in silence that she saw the black-robed -figure leave the cell, and in silence she remained -for a long time after she was left alone, thinking -over what had passed.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure had acted in such perfect sincerity -that the wound she inflicted on her mother, -and the mortification she put upon her, were -neither of them realized. It was not wonderful -that the impulses of the girl’s heart had -been stilled by the unceasing precept of the -past months. Her years were naturally powerless -to fathom her mother’s heart, the heart -of her who sees herself completely separated -in every interest from the one that has always -been nearest and dearest. And so the argument -that she conducted within herself after -her mother’s going was not one of justification -of her own act, but—oh, ye gods!—an attempted -justification of Eleanore’s impiety.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure passed the next two days in an odor -of extreme sanctity, and hailed with deep inward -joy the beginning of the long vigil of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>birth of the Saviour, on Christmas Eve. She -was excused from keeping steadily in church -through this protracted service, for the reason -that she would be obliged, according to the -Rule, to spend the night after her consecration -alone in the church, at prayer. Throughout -Christmas Day Laure was in a state of repressed -nervous excitement. Was not to-morrow to -be her wedding-day? Was she not to become -what the first Magdalen had never been,—the -bride of Christ? Her prayers throughout -this day were mingled with thoughts of the -highest purity, the most refined spiritual ecstasy, -the most shining, uplifted innocence. -Tears of joy and of proud humility flowed -readily from her eyes, while her mouth was -filled with heavenly praises that welled up -from her heart.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In the afternoon she was sent away to rest; -for the Mother-prioress was considerate of her -strength. Laure did not, however, lie down. -Instead, she stood for more than an hour at -the window of her cell, looking out over the -world, and watching the fine feathery snowflakes -float down through the clear blue air. -The earth was wrapped in a mantle whiter than -<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>her consecration robe and veil. Perhaps it -was a shroud. Laure shivered at the thought, -while she contemplated the unutterable stillness -of all things. Not a sound disturbed this vast -scene of death. The tree-boughs bent low -under the weight of their pure burden; and when -the early evening fell, and vespers chimed out -over the valley, the tiny, frozen tears of -Heaven still floated through the dark with -ever-increasing softness.</p> - -<p class='c014'>It was seven o’clock when Sœur Celeste, -the chaplain, came to summon the bride-elect -to confession and interrogation with Monseigneur -the Bishop of St. Nazaire. As the -two women passed together down the long -corridor of novices, through the cold cloister -and empty refectory and along the passage -leading to the chapter, Laure’s heart was -struck with a chill of fear. How terribly -empty the convent was! No one in the -refectory, the corridors scarcely lighted, the -whole convent utterly silent; for the drone -of prayers in the church was inaudible here. -She wondered how the terrible vigil progressed, -how many nuns had fainted in their -fatigue. She thought of anything but the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>matter before her, and was still unprepared -when the chaplain left her alone at the door -of the chapter.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The Bishop of St. Nazaire was alone in this -room, and at Laure’s appearance he rose and -went to her, taking her by the hand, and not -amazed to find her icy cold.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“My daughter!” he said gently; and -Laure, looking into his face, was suddenly -filled with an ineffable comfort.</p> - -<p class='c014'>She had known the Bishop all her life, for -he was her mother’s close friend and a constant -visitor at Le Crépuscule. But never before had -she seen him in this fulness of his office, so -replete with magnetic spirituality. If the unswervingly -narrow tenets of his creed made -St. Nazaire too arbitrary where his religion -was concerned, and if the geniality of his own -nature had, at times, brought upon him in his -own home reactions that afterwards rendered -necessary the severest penances, at least these -two extremes of his life had brought him to a -remarkable intermediate balance. Irrespective -of his state, he could be defined as a man of -the world, of large sympathies, having a broad -understanding of human frailty, because of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>unconquerable weaknesses of his own nature. -His ethical code was one of high severity and -strict purity; and he strove with all the power -of his spirit to follow it himself, never failing, -the while, to excuse the eternal failures of -others. And now, as Laure looked up into -his large, smooth-shaven face, framed in long -fair hair, and lighted by a pair of bright blue -eyes that generally regarded the world with a -surprising air of trustful innocence, the young -novice lost all her sense of desolation, and felt -herself suddenly introduced into a secure and -unhoped-for haven.</p> - -<p class='c014'>St. Nazaire himself, examining the young -girl’s face, and searching her soul therein, knew -that at this moment he was nearer to the inmost -being of the daughter of Le Crépuscule -than he should ever be again; and he felt that -no one ever yet had been in a position to probe -the depths of her nature as he was going to -probe them now. She gave herself up to him -as completely as Eleanore had given her once -long ago, when, as a new-born infant, she had -wailed in his arms at her baptism before the -altar in the chapel of the Twilight Castle.</p> - -<p class='c014'>With this strong feeling of mutual confidence, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>Laure and the Bishop seated themselves -in the chapter of the convent. Confession and -stereotyped interrogation were gone through -with dutifully, and then followed what Laure -had begun to wish for at the first moment of -their meeting,—a long and intimate talk upon -the life that she should lead as a professed nun. -It was a life with which St. Nazaire was as -fully conversant as a man could ever be, and -he pictured it to Laure as faithfully as he was -accustomed to picture Heaven—a heaven of -flying men and women carrying in their hands -small golden harps—to those that received the -last sacrament at his hands. Laure had a vision -of long years filled ever fuller of transcendent -joy and peace, in which she should never know -a wish that her life could not fill, nor a desire -beyond more earnest prayers, or a fast a little -longer and more rigorous than heretofore. -And so skilful was the Bishop in the manipulation -of his sombre material, that he got -from it remarkable beauties which, impossible -as it seems, were as convincing to him as to -Laure.</p> - -<p class='c014'>It was late in the evening when the young -girl received the episcopal blessing and retired -<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>through the still nunnery to her cell. But -her mind was at perfect rest that night; and -she went to sleep to dream of nothing but the -happiness and beauty of a consecrated life.</p> - -<p class='c014'>At ten o’clock on the morning of the twenty-sixth -day of December, the whole convent assembled -in church for high mass, which was -to be celebrated by the Bishop of St. Nazaire. -To-day the novices were separated from the -professed nuns, and the two companies knelt -on opposite sides of the church, leaving a broad -space between them. The choir was in its place. -In the lower choir-stalls sat the Mother-prioress, -the sub-prioress, the chaplain and the deacons; -while his Grace was in the great chair of -honor used by none but him. The only member -of the nunnery not present was Laure, who -made her appearance just as the bell began to -ring for the opening of the mass. She came -in from the chapter-house at the far end of -the church, and moved slowly up the aisle. -Her white robe and full mantle hid her figure -and trailed around her on the floor, and her -head was crowned with the bridal veil, which -covered her face and fell to the ground all -around her. In one hand she carried a parchment -<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>scroll on which her vow was inscribed; -and in the other hand she bore the wedding -ring.</p> - -<p class='c014'>As she advanced toward the altar every head -was turned toward her, and it was seen that she -was white as death. But she was also very -calm. Indeed she was acting quite mechanically, -like one under a hypnotic spell; and -there was no expression whatever on her face -as she made her genuflection to the cross, and -then turned aside and knelt among the company -of novices. She took her usual part in -the mass that followed, making no slip in the -service, and joining as usual in the singing, -with her full contralto voice.</p> - -<p class='c014'>When the benediction had been pronounced -from the chancel, there was a pause. No one -in the church moved from her knees, and the -Bishop remained before the company with his -right hand uplifted. Laure raised her eyes, -and her body trembled slightly, for her heart -was palpitating like running water. When the -silence had lasted a seemingly unbearable while, -St. Nazaire turned his face to Laure, who rose -and went up to him, kneeling again in the -chancel. And now, as she spoke, her quiet, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>impressive voice was heard by every nun in -the church,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Suscipe me, Domine, secundum eloquium tuum -et vivam. Et non confundas me in expectatione -mea.</span></i>”</p> - -<p class='c014'>As she finished, Laure’s throat contracted, -and she gasped convulsively. Her head swam -in a mist, but she knew that the Bishop was -questioning her from the catechism,—knew -that she was answering him; and then, afterwards, -she heard, as from a great distance, the -voice of the Bishop praying. At the Amen, -St. Nazaire signed to her again, and she rose -and stepped forward to his side. Then, turning -till she faced the church, she said quite -distinctly, though in a low tone,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I, Sister Angelique, promise steadfastness, -virginity, continuance in virtue, and obedience -before God and all His saints, in accordance -with the Rule of St. Benedict, in this Priory of -Holy Madeleine, in the presence of the Reverend -Father Charles, Lord Bishop of St. -Nazaire, of the Duchy of Brittany, Lord under -the most Christian Duke, Jean de Montfort.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Thereafter she went up to the altar, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>there signed her scroll with her new name and -the sign of the cross. And there the ring of -Heaven was placed upon her finger, and she -was declared a bride. For the last time she -knelt before the father, who lifted up his hands -and consecrated her, after the ancient formula, -to the love of her Saviour, the blessing of God, -and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost. And -then Laure, a professed nun, came down from -the holy place, and was received among her -sisters and reverently saluted by them.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The ceremony over, all the convent adjourned -to the refectory, where a little feast of -rejoicing was held in honor of the newly consecrated -one. And after this, at an early hour -of the afternoon, Laure was conducted to her -cell, and her ten days of retirement began. All -that afternoon, overcome with the strain of -the past few days, the young girl slept. She -woke only when the Sœur Eloise, a stout and -stupid little nun, but a few weeks since made a -lay sister, came up to her with bread and milk. -When she had eaten and was alone again, she -sat for a long time in her dark cell, looking -out upon the starry night, and wondering -vaguely over her long future. Presently the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>bell for the end of confession rang out, and, -knowing that it was time, she rose and went -through the convent, and into the vast church. -The last of the nuns had left it and gone to -seek her rest. Only the sub-prioress remained, -waiting for Laure. Seeing her come, the -older nun saluted her silently, and then moved -away toward the dimly lighted chapter. In -the doorway of this room she turned to look -back at the white figure standing in the dimly -lighted, incense-reeking aisle; and then, with -a faint sigh of memory, she extinguished all -the chapter lights, bowed to the little crucifix -hanging in that room, and went her way to -bed.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure was left alone in the great, dusky -House of God. Where she knelt, before the -shrine of St. Joseph, two candles burned. All -around her was darkness—silence—solitude. -Awed and wide-eyed, she forced herself to -kneel upon the stones, and her mind vaguely -sought a prayer. But thoughts of Heaven refused -to come. Her Bridegroom was very far -away. She felt a cold weight settling slowly -down upon her heart, and she trembled, and -her brows grew damp with chilly dew. Many -<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>thoughts came and went. She remembered -afterwards to have had a very distinct vision of -Alixe, standing alone upon a great cliff a mile -from Le Crépuscule, with a wild sea-wind blowing -her hair and her mantle, and white gulls -veering about her head. For an instant, a wild -longing flamed up through her soul. Setting -her lips, she tried to force her mind back again -to God. One—two—three faltering, reverent -words were uttered by her. Then Laure -du Crépuscule started wildly to her feet.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“God! Oh, God! I am imprisoned! I -am captive! I am captive forever! God! -Oh, God!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>As these wild cries echoed through the -vaulted roof, she threw herself passionately to -the floor and lay there helpless, while the -wave of merciless realization swept over her. -Then her hands wandered along the stones -of the floor, and her cheek followed them, -and she clutched at the cold, damp granite, -in a vain, vague search for her mother’s -breast.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'><em>CHAPTER THREE</em><br /> <span class='large'>FLAMMECŒUR</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='c013'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_074.jpg' width='100' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> -The New Year had come: a -time of highest festival in -Brittany, when the land was -alive with merriment and gifts -and legends and grewsome -tales. It was St. Sylvester’s -Eve, when, as all men knew, the waves of -the Atlantic for once defied their barriers -and struggled up the towering cliffs, eager to -meet, halfway, the descending dolmens, permitted -once in the year to leave unguarded the -deep earth-treasures, that they might quench -their furious thirst in the sea. And on that -night half the peasants of Brittany lay awake, -speculating on the vast wealth that might be -theirs if they were but to arise and seek out -some monster dolmen and wait beside it till -the immense rock rolled away from its hole, -leaving a pit of gold and gems open to the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>clutching hands of the world-man. But fear -of the demoniac return of these same rolling -rocks kept most of the dreamers safe within -their beds during the fateful midnight hour, -though of the luck of the few daring ones, there -were, nay, still are, many veracious tales.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Le Crépuscule, no less than the surrounding -countryside, participated in the interest of -these supernatural matters; but the old Chateau -had real affairs of feast and frolic to occupy -it also. The great New Year’s dinner was the -most lavish that the Castle gave in the twelve-month, -and this year, in spite of its depleted -household, there was no exception made to the -general rule. The great tables were set in the -central hall and loaded with every sort of food -and drink, while kitchen fires roared about their -juicy meats, and in the chimney-piece of the -hall an ox was roasted whole before the flames. -Ordinarily the dinner hour at the Castle was -half-past eleven in the morning; but on feast -days it was changed to four in the afternoon, -and the merriment was then kept up till the -last woman had retired, and the last man found -a pillow on the rushes that strewed the floor.</p> - -<p class='c014'>On this New Year’s eve there were, as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>usual, two great tables set; for to-night not -only all the retainers of the Castle, but also half -a hundred of the tenantry from the estates, -claimed the privilege of their fealty and came -to eat at the house of their lord, sitting below -his salt, breaking his bread, supping his beer, -and talking and laughing and drinking each till -he could no more.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Madame Eleanore was always present at this -feast, as a matter of duty and of graciousness. -She sat to-night at the head of the board, with -an empty place beside her for Gerault. Alixe -was upon her right hand, and one of the young -squires-at-arms upon her left; and in the general -hubbub of the feast none of the peasant -boors noticed how persistent a silence reigned -at that end of the table, nor how wearily sad -was the expression of their lady’s face.</p> - -<p class='c014'>This was the first feast in many years at -which the Bishop of St. Nazaire had not been -present; but he had not come to Le Crépuscule -since Laure’s consecration, and madame had -given up hoping for his arrival. Darkness had -fallen some time since, and the hour was growing -late. This could be told from the increased -noise at the table. Puddings and crumcakes -<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>had been finished, and the men of the company -were turning their attention exclusively to -the liquor—beer and wine—which had been -brought up to the hall in great casks, from -which each might help himself. David le -petit, the jester, ran up and down on the table, -waving a black wand and shouting verses at -the company. There was a universal clamor -and howling of laughter and song, which -madame heard with ever-increasing weariness -and displeasure, though the demoiselles showed -no such signs of fatigue.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Suddenly, through the tumult, madame -caught a sound that made her lift her head -and half rise from her chair, listening intently. -There had been a sound of horses’ hoofs on -the courtyard stones.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“’Tis St. Nazaire at last,” she whispered to -Alixe. “Now we shall hear of—Go thou -thyself, Alixe, and fetch hither fresh meat and -a pasty and a flagon of the best wine. Monseigneur -must be weary. He shall sit here at -my side—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe rose obediently and hurried away -on her errand; and while she was gone there -came a clamor at the door. A burly henchman -<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>sprang up and lurched forward to open it, peering -out into the darkness. Those in the room -heard a little ejaculation, and then there entered -a new-comer with some one else beside him. -Neither was the Bishop of St. Nazaire. Both -of them were young,—one, indeed, no more -than a boy, wearing an esquire’s jerkin, hosen, -cap, and mantle, and carrying only a short dirk -in his belt. The other, who came forward into -the full light of the lamps and torches, was a -young man of six and twenty or thereabouts, -lean and tall and graceful, clad in half armor, -but clean-shaved, like a woman. His face had -the look of the South in it, his eyes were piercingly -dark, and his waving hair as black as the -night. In their first glance at the new-comer, -most in the room took notice that his spurs -were not gilt; but soon a maid spied out that -the little squire carried on his back a lute, -strung on a ribbon, and then the stranger’s -profession was plain.</p> - -<p class='c014'>This general examination lasted but the -matter of a few seconds. Then Madame Eleanore -rose, and the stranger saluted her with a -grace that became him well, and began to speak -in a mellow voice,—</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>“Madame la Châtelaine, give thee God’s -greeting! I hight Bertrand Flammecœur, -singer of Provence, the land of the trouvère; -and now find myself a most weary traveller -through this chilly land. Here—” indicating -his follower with two slim fingers—“is my -squire, Yvain. We come to-day from the -Castle of Laval, in the South, where, in the -high hospitality of its lord, we have sojourned -for some weeks. There, indeed, I sang in half -a score of tenzons with one <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Le Fleurie</span>, an able -singer. But now, to-night, inasmuch as we are -weary with long riding, empty for food, numb -with cold, and have found the drawbridge of -this Castle down, we make bold to crave shelter -for the night, and a manchet of bread to comfort -our stomachs withal,” and the trouvère -bent his body in a graceful obeisance; while -Eleanore, smiling her hospitality, stepped forward -a little from where she stood.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“It is the Breton custom, Sir Trouvère, to -leave the drawbridge down during the holy -weeks of Christmas and Easter; and in those -days any may obtain food and shelter among -us. Thou and thy squire, however, are doubly -welcome, coming as ye do from our cousins of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>Laval, in which house I, Eleanore du Crépuscule, -was born. In the name of my son, the -Seigneur Gerault, I return you God’s greeting, -and pray you to make this Chateau your home. -Now, sith ye are well weary and anhungered, -let your boy rest him there among my squires, -while you come here and sit and eat.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Thereupon little Yvain, after a bow, ran -eagerly to the place indicated to him; and -Flammecœur, smiling, went forward at madame’s -invitation toward the place at her side. -Ere he reached it, Alixe, who had been in -the kitchens and thus missed the stranger’s -entrance, came into the hall, bearing with her -a wooden tray containing food and red wine. -At sight of the stranger she halted suddenly, -and as suddenly he paused to make her reverence; -for by her dress he knew her to be -no serving-wench. In the instant that their -glances met, her green and brilliant eyes flashed -a flame of fire into his dark ones; and curiously -enough, a color rose in the pale cheeks of the -man ere Alixe had thought to catch the flush -of maiden modesty. Perhaps no one in the -room had noted the contretemps. At any rate, -Flammecœur, taking a quick glance to see, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>found none looking at him in more than -ordinary curiosity; whereupon his debonair -self-possession flew back to him, and, turning -again to Madame Eleanore, he presently sat -down to table and began his meal. While he -ate, and his appetite was excellent, he found -space to converse with every one about him; -and had a smile for all, from madame to the -shyest of the demoiselles. Out of courtesy -for their hospitality, he gave a somewhat careless -and rambling but nevertheless highly entertaining -account of some of his wanderings, -and was amused to see how the young demoiselles -hung on his words. Only upon Alixe -did he waste his efforts, for she paid scant attention -to him, listening just enough to escape -the charge of rudeness. And Flammecœur -was man enough and vain enough to get himself -into something of a pique about her in this -first hour of his coming to Le Crépuscule.</p> - -<p class='c014'>When the stranger had had his say, and -proved himself sufficiently “trouvère,” the -general after-feast of song and story began. -Both tale and song were of that day,—broad -enough for modern ears, but of their time -unusually mild, and of the character that was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>to be heard from ladies’ lips. Burliest henchman -and slenderest squire alike tuned his verse -for the ears of Madame Eleanore to hear; and -the wanderer, Flammecœur, noted this fact -astutely, and so much approved of it that, -while dwarf David’s fairy tale went on, he -took a quick resolve that he would make a -temporary home for himself in this Castle.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In the course of time Flammecœur was -asked for a song. Yvain brought his lute to -him, and he tuned the instrument while he -pleaded excuse from a long chanson. When -he began, however, his voice showed small sign -of fatigue. He sang a low, swinging melody -of his own composing, fitted to words once -used in a Court of Love in the south,—a delicate -bit of versification dealing with dreams. -And so delicately did he perform his task -that perfect silence followed its close.</p> - -<p class='c014'>A moment later there was a sharp round of -applause; for these Bretons had never heard -such a chansonette in all their cold-country -lives. Before anything more could be demanded, -Flammecœur, satisfied with the impression -already made, sprang to his feet, and -turned to Eleanore, saying: “Lady, I crave -<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>permission for me and my squire to seek our -rest. We have ridden many leagues to-day, -and at early dawn must be up and off again.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore rose and gave him her hand to kiss. -“Sieur Flammecœur, we render thee thanks -for our pleasure, and give ye God’s sleep. -Hither, Foulque! Light the Sieur Trouvère -and his boy to thy room, and sleep thou this -night with Robert Meloc.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>The young squire bowed and fetched a -torch from the wall. Yvain came running to -his master’s side; and presently, to the deep -regret of all the demoiselles, the three disappeared -into the “long room,” from which a -hallway led to the squires’ rooms.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In spite of Bertrand’s words about his early -departure on the following morning, he and -Yvain did not go that day. Neither did they -depart on the next, nor within that week. On -the morning after his arrival the minstrel confessed, -readily enough, though with seeming -reluctance, that he had no particular objective -point in his journeying; that he but travelled -for adventure, for love of his lady, and that it -was his mind to linger around St. Nazaire or -the coast till spring should give an opening -<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>into Normandy. Madame Eleanore would -not hear of it that he should seek lodgings in -St. Nazaire. There was strong tradition of -hospitality in Le Crépuscule,—ordinarily a -lonely place enough; and its châtelaine eagerly -besought the Flaming-heart to lodge with her -till spring—and longer if he would. And -after that she put him, forsooth, into the -Bishop’s chamber on the ground-floor, gave -Yvain an adjoining closet, and would take no -refusal that he go hawking in the early afternoon -with all the young squires of the Castle.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Bertrand took to his life at the Twilight -Castle with a grace, an ease, and, withal, a -tact that won him every heart within the -first three days of his residence there. He -was a man of the broad world, such an one -as these simple Breton folk had not known -before; for Seigneur Gerault did not travel -like this fellow, and had none of his manner -for setting forth tales. The young squires, the -men-at-arms, the henchmen, the very cooks -and scullions, listened open-mouthed and open-eyed -at the stories he told of adventure and -love, of distant countries, of kings and courts -and mighty wars. Besides this, he could -<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>manage a horse or a sword like any warrior -knight; he was deep learned in falconry; he -could track a hare or a fox through the -most impossible furze; and he could read -like a monk and write like a scribe. As -for his accomplishments with the other sex, -they were too many to mention. Before -evening of the second day every woman in the -Castle from Madame Eleanore down, save, -for some mysterious reason, Alixe, was at -his feet, confessing her utter subjection. His -soft Southern speech, the exquisite Langue -d’Oc, used in Brittany as French was used in -England; his clean, dark, fine-featured face; -his glowing eyes; his love-laden manner, that -ever dared and never presumed; finally, what, -in all ages, has seemed to prove most attractive -to women in men, a suggestion of past -libertinism,—all these things combined to -make him utterly irresistible to the feminine -heart.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Such a life of never-ending adulation, of -universal admiration, was a paradise to the -troubadour, in whom inordinate vanity was -the strongest and most carefully concealed -characteristic. So long as he should be the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>centre of interest, he was never bored. But -when he was not the central object, there -were just two people in all the Castle that -did not bore him unendurably. One of these -was Madame Eleanore, in liking whom he -betrayed exceptional taste; the other was -Alixe, who had piqued him into attention. -His admiration for madame was not wholly -unnatural; for Bertrand Flammecœur, love-child -as he was, and filled with unholy passions, -was, nevertheless, as his singing showed, -a man of refinement and gentle blood. His -feeling for Alixe was keen, because it was -unsatisfactory. She was at no pains to conceal -her dislike for him, and it was her greatest -pleasure to whip a pretty speech of his -to rags with irony. He plied her with every -art he knew, tried every mood upon her, -and to Alixe’s glory be it said, she never -betrayed, by look or word, that she had -anything for him more than, at best, contemptuous -indifference. And after a week -of effort the minstrel was obliged to confess -to himself that never before, in all his adventures, -had he met with so complete a rebuff -from any woman.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>He did not, even then, entirely relax his -efforts. One morning, ten days after his -arrival, he was passing the chapel, a small -octagonal room opening off the great hall -just beside the stairs, when he perceived Alixe -within. She was alone; and as he turned into -the doorway she was just rising from her -knees. Unconscious of his presence, she remained -standing before the altar looking upon -the crucifix, her hands fervently clasped before -her. After watching her for a moment in -silence, Flammecœur began to move noiselessly -across the little room, and was at her very -shoulder before he said softly,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“A fair good morn to thee, my demoiselle.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe wheeled about. “A prayerful one -to thee, Sir Minstrel!” she said sharply, -and would have left him but that, smiling, -he held her back.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nay, <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ma mie</span>, nay, be pleased to remain -for a moment’s love-look.” Alixe merely -shrugged at his teasing mockery, whereupon -he became serious. “Listen, mademoiselle, -and explain this matter to me. Is all this -Castle under a vow of unceasing prayer? -Piety beseems a damsel well enow; yet never -<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>have I seen a household so devout. Madame -Châtelaine repeats her prayers five times a -day; and the step before the altar here is -ever weighted by some ardent maid or squire. -<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ohé!</span> Love in the south; prayer in the -north. Rose of Langue d’Oc,—snows of -Langue d’Oïl. Tell me, Dame Alixe, which -likes thy heart the most, customs of my land -or of thine?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“This is all the land I know. And as for -thee—well, if thou’rt a true man of the south, -methinks I would remain here,” she retorted -discourteously, giving him eye for eye.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I do not my country so much despite to -say its men are all like me,” returned the -Flame-hearted, smoothly, in an inward rage. -“Yet I could tell thee tales of thy cold Normandy -that are not all of ice. Methinks this -cheerless Breton coast is the mother of melancholy; -for shine the sun never so brightly, it -cannot melt the soul that hath been frozen -under its past winter’s sky. But, Demoiselle -Alixe,”—Flammecœur dropped his anger, -and took on a sudden tone of exceeding interest,—“Demoiselle -Alixe, I hold in my -heart a great curiosity concerning thee. I see -<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>thee here living as a daughter of the house; -yet art thou called Rieuse. Now, wast thou -born in Crépuscule?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe regarded him with half-closed eyes. -Never had she resented anything in him half -so much as this question. Yet she replied to -him in a tone as smooth as his own: “Yea, -truly I am of Le Crépuscule, by heart and -love. But I am not of the Twilight blood. -I was born on the Castle lands. I am the -foster-sister of the Demoiselle Laure.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Laure?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Sooth, hast thou not heard of Laure, the -daughter of madame?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nay. Is she dead, this maid?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“She is a nun.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Ah! ’Tis the same.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Not for us here. Thou must know she -is but newly consecrated; and she is to be -permitted to come home, here, to the Castle, -once in a fortnight, to see madame her mother. -On the morrow she will come for the first time -since her novitiate began, nine months agone.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Sang Dieu! Now know I why the Castle -breathes with prayer. Madame would make -all things holy enough to receive her. She -<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>cannot be old, this Laure, sith she is thy -foster-sister?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I am older than she. Also, an I remain -longer from the tapestry, I shall be caused to -make you do half my daily task as a punishment -for keeping me tardy. Give ye God-den, -fair sir, and pleasant prayers!” And -with a flutter and an unholy laugh, Alixe had -whirled past him and was gone out of the -chapel.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Flammecœur looked after her, but for the -first time felt no inclination for pursuit. Perhaps -this was because, for the first time, Alixe -had given him something besides herself to -think about. This daughter of Madame -Eleanore and her peculiar vocation interested -him extremely. It was quite surprising -to find how interested one could become -in little matters, after a few days in Le Crépuscule. -So Flammecœur presently marched -off to the armory in search of Yvain, and, -finding him, he questioned the little squire -minutely as to the gossip of the keep concerning -the Demoiselle Laure. Was she mis-shapen? -This was the only excuse for entering -a nunnery that occurred to the Flame-hearted. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>Yvain had not heard that she was deformed. -Was she crossed in love? Mayhap; but Yvain -had not heard it. Flammecœur shrugged his -shoulders. The enigma was not solved. It -mattered little enough, anyway. Alixe had -jilted him again. Heigho! He ordered his -horse, and went to seek a falcon. While in -the falcon-house he remembered that this nun -was coming to the Castle on the morrow, and -he decided that he would have a sight of her -when she arrived.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Not unnaturally Bertrand Flammecœur had -taken on the state of mind of the whole Castle. -Mademoiselle was coming home on the morrow. -Every one knew it, for a message had -arrived on the previous day from Monseigneur -the Bishop of St. Nazaire, and Le Crépuscule -was in a state of unwonted excitement. -The word came to madame as less of a surprise -than as an overwhelming relief, and a -joy that had some bitterness in it. It had -rested with St. Nazaire whether her child -should come home to see her twice in the -month! Ah, well, she was coming; she would -lie in her mother’s arms; the Castle would echo -again to the music of her voice! Thus through -<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>the whole day madame sat dreaming of the -morrow, nor noticed the tardy arrival of Alixe -in the spinning-room, nor how, all morning, -Isabelle and Viviane whispered and smiled and -idled over their tasks.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Now, if Madame Eleanore’s heart and brain -were full to overflowing with the dreams of -Laure, how feverish with longing came the -thought of home, home though for one little -hour, to the prisoner herself! On the night -before her going, as, indeed, on many nights -of late, Laure could not sleep. Her eyes -stared wide open into the night, while her -mind traced outlines of Le Crépuscule in the -soft darkness. Ah! the dearly loved halls -and their blessed company, all that she had -not seen for nearly nine months, and on the -morrow should see again! Her brain burned -with impatience. She tossed and tumbled on -her hard and narrow bed. Finally, long ere the -hour for matins, she rose and went to sit at the -window of her cell, looking out upon the clear -and frosty winter’s night. How the hours -passed till prime she scarcely knew. But at -a quarter to five, when matins were over, she -went down into the church for first service, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>wearing short riding-shoes under her white -robe, with her hair bound tight beneath her -coif and veil, for galloping. During the simple -prayer-service, she got twenty penitential -Aves for inattention, and read added reproof -in the eyes of Mère Piteuse. At length, however, -it came to be the hour for the breaking -of the fast, and Laure found opportunity to -speak to the Sœur Eloise, who was to follow -her as attendant and protectress on the road -to Crépuscule. Stupid, stolid, faithful, low -of birth and therefore much in awe of Laure, -was this little nun; and had the Mother-prioress been worldly wise, it had not been -she that followed Laure into the world this -bright and bitter January morning.</p> - -<p class='c014'>At a quarter to eight o’clock the two young -women mounted their palfreys at the convent -gate, and were off into the snow-filled forest, -while behind them echoed gentle admonitions -to unceasing prayer. Feeling a saddle under -her once again, and a strong white horse bearing -her along over a well-beaten road, Laure -drew a breath that seemed to have no end. -And as her lungs filled with God’s free air, -she pressed one hand to her throat to ease the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>terrible ache of rising tears. How long it was -since she had felt free to move her limbs! -How long since she had traversed this shaded -road! Eloise did not trouble her. The lay -sister was too occupied in clinging to the mane -of her horse to venture speech; and she looked -at her high-born companion with mingled awe -and admiration as she saw her urge her beast -into a trot. The convent animal had an easy -gait, and appeared to possess possibilities in -the way of speed. Laure touched him a little -with her spur. The creature responded well. -A moment later Eloise turned pale with fright -to see her lady strike the spur home in earnest, -and go flying wildly down the road till she was -presently lost among the thick snow-laden trees.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure was happy now. She found herself -not much encumbered with her dress, which -had been “modified” in obedience to the law -for conduct outside the convent. Her gown -and mantle were of the usual cut, and she was -girdled by her rosary; but her head was covered -with a close-fitting black hood from which -fell a short white veil, two edges of which were -pinned beneath her chin, giving her, though -she did not know it, a delightfully softened -<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>expression. After she had left Eloise behind, -she continued to increase the speed of her -animal till she had all but lost control of him. -Fifteen minutes later she was out of the forest -and running along a heavily packed road, bordered -on either side with a thin line of trees, -beyond which stretched broad fields and moorlands, -among which, somewhere, the priory -estate ended and that of Le Crépuscule began. -Eloise was now a mile behind; but Laure had -no thought for her. Her breath was coming -short no less with emotion than with the -exercise; for the image of her mother was -before her eyes. She let her mind search -where it would, through sweet and yearning -depths; and her heart was filled with thanksgiving -for this hour of freedom. She was -nearing that place where the Rennes highway -joined that of St. Nazaire, both of them uniting -at the Castle road, which led to the Chateau -by a long and winding ascent. Presently the -Chateau became visible; and Laure, looking on -it with all her soul in her eyes, took no heed -of the slow-moving horseman ahead of her, -on whom she was rapidly gaining. Indeed, -neither was aware of the presence of the other, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>till Laure’s horse, scenting company, made a -short dash of a hundred yards, and then came -into a sudden walk beside the animal bestrode -by Bertrand Flammecœur of Provence. The -suddenness of the horse’s stop caused Laure -to jerk heavily forward. Flammecœur leaned -over and caught her bridle. At that moment -their eyes met.</p> - -<p class='c014'>A flush of vivid pink overspread Laure’s -lily face. She shrank quickly away from the -look in Flammecœur’s eyes. Then her hand -went up to her dishevelled hair; and she tried -confusedly to straighten it back.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Take not such pains, reverend lady. By -the glory of the saints, thou couldst not make -thyself as lovely as God’s world hath made -thee!—Prithee, heed me not!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure gave a little gasp at the man’s daring; -yet such was Flammecœur’s manner that she -did not find herself offended. Presently she -had the impulse to give him a sideways glance; -and then, all untutored as she was, she read the -lively admiration that was written in his face. -After that her hands came down from her head, -and she took up her bridle again, by the act -causing him to relinquish it. “The Sœur -<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>Eloise is behind me. I fear that I did much -outdistance her,” she said, with a demureness -through which a smile was very near to -breaking.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Flammecœur looked at her with a peculiar -pleasure, a pleasure that he had not often experienced. -His immediate impulse was to put -a still greater distance between them and Eloise; -but prudence came happily to his aid. “Let -us stop here till thine attendant comes, while -thy horse breathes,” he said, bringing his animal -to a gentle halt.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure acquiesced at once, and did not analyze -her little momentary qualm as one of -disappointment. Nevertheless, her face grew -white again, and she said not a word through -the ten minutes they had to wait till Eloise -came riding heavily out of the wood. The -other nun looked infinitely startled at the sight -of Flammecœur, and was muttering a prayer -while she stared from Laure to the trouvère. -As soon, however, as she came, the others -reined their horses about, and immediately, in -the most remarkable silence that the Provençal -had ever experienced, proceeded up the hill -and into the Castle courtyard.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>In this wise they reached the Chateau, and -Laure came to her own again. She found herself -surrounded by every one and everything -that she had so unspeakably yearned for; and—they -made little impression on her. She -walked among them like one in a dream, striving -in vain to free her mind from its encompassing -mists. When she was alone with her -mother, in Eleanore’s familiar and beloved -room, Laure felt in herself an inexplicable insincerity. -She clung to madame, and wept, -and kissed her, and expressed in eager, disjointed -phrases the great joy she felt in being at -home again; and all the while she scarce knew -what she said, or wherefore she said it. And in -the end she gave such an impression of hysteria -that her mother became seriously distressed.</p> - -<p class='c014'>At dinner Laure’s manner changed. She -was quiet and silent, and kept her eyes fixed -continually on her plate. Her cheeks were -burning and she was in a tumult of inward -emotion that displayed itself in the most unwonted -stupidity. Her mother never dreamed -the reason for her mood. Curiously enough, -Alixe read Laure better, though she scarcely -dared admit to herself that which she saw. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>No look of Flammecœur’s, nor quick flush of -the young nun’s face escaped her eyes, yet -neither then nor ever after did Alixe confess to -any one what she read; for her own heart was -too much wrought upon for speech.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Dinner ended, and with that end came the -hour for Laure’s return to the convent. The -girl realized this with a chill at her heart, but -accepted the inevitable resignedly. It was -with a sense of desolation that she followed -Eloise out of the Castle to the courtyard -where their horses were waiting. Her parting -with her mother was filled with grief of the sincerest -kind. She wept and clung to Madame -Eleanore, gasping out convulsive promises to -return as soon as the rule permitted. She -said good-bye to Alixe as tenderly as to her -mother, for the two maidens were fast friends; -she kissed all the demoiselles, was kissed by -the young squires-at-arms; and it was a sudden -relief to her, in this rush of home-feeling, -that Flammecœur was nowhere to be seen, he -and Yvain having disappeared immediately -after dinner.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Much to the satisfaction of Eloise, who endured -a good deal of discomfort when she was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>in high places, Laure finally mounted her -palfrey, and the two of them started away, -waving good-byes all across the courtyard and -drawbridge, and indeed until Eleanore, leaning -heavily on Alixe’s arm, turned to re-enter the -Castle.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The nuns began their descent of the long -hill at a slow, jogging trot; and presently -Eloise remarked comfortably,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Reverend Mother enjoined us to repeat -the hours as we ride. But so didst thou -gallop on the way hither, Sister Angelique, -and so out of breath was I with trotting after, -that I said no more than the first part of -one Ave. Therefore let us return at a more -seemly pace, that we may rightly tell our -beads,” and the stolid sister settled her horse -into a slower walk, and sighed comprehensively -as she thought of the dinner she had eaten and -the sweetmeats that were hidden in her tunic.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure did not answer her. She fingered -her rosary dutifully, and her lips mechanically -repeated the prayers. But her thoughts were -no more on what she said than they were upon -food. Her face was drawn and whiter even -than its wont, and she sat her horse with a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>weary air. She was making no struggle against -the inevitable. In her soul she knew that she -must be strong enough to endure her lot; but -she could make no pretence to herself that -that lot was pleasant.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The two were a long time in their descent -of the hill, and it was mid-afternoon when they -reached the bend in the road that hid the -Chateau from sight. Laure was not looking -ahead; rather, when she looked, her eyes -noticed nothing. But suddenly Eloise started -from her prayers and uttered an exclamation: -“Saints of God! There is that man again!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>A quick, cold tremor passed over Laure, -and she trembled violently. There in the -road, fifty yards away, both of them on horseback, -were Flammecœur and his page.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eloise began a series of weak and rapid expostulations. -Laure sat like a statue in her -saddle. Nothing was done till the two young -women came abreast of the troubadour and -his boy. Then, with a rapid and adroit movement, -young Yvain wheeled his horse between -Laure and Eloise, and presently fell back with -Eloise’s animal beside him, while Bertrand -Flammecœur drew up beside Laure. The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>man was white with nervousness, and he bent -toward her and said in a low voice: “Sister of -angels, grant me pardon for this act!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure had gone all aflame. Her heart was -beating tremulously and her dry throat contracted -so that she could not speak. But -looking, for one fleeting instant, into his face, -she smiled.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Flammecœur could have laughed for joy, -for he saw that his cause was won. And the -ease of this conquest did not make him contemptuous -of it; for however little he understood -it, there was that in this childlike nun -that made him hold his breath with reverence -before her. The hour that followed their -second meeting was almost as new to him as to -her, in the stretch of emotions. They spoke -very little. From behind them came the continual, -droll chatter of Yvain and the answering -giggles of Eloise. But Laure could not -have laughed, and the trouvère knew it. As -they entered the forest, however, at no great -distance from the priory, he leaned far over -and laid one of his gloved hands upon the -tunic that covered her knee.</p> - -<div id='i_103' class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_103.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic005'> -<p><em><span class='c016'>T</span>he whole Castle had assembled to say<br />God-speed to their departing lord.—Page <a href='#Page_25'>25</a></em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>“Let me have some gage,—some token -of thee,” he said in a hoarse and unsteady -tone.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I cannot! Oh, I cannot!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>He did not urge, but resignedly drew his -hand away; and as Laure’s body made the -little, involuntary movement of following him, -he contained his joy with an effort.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Now the white priory was visible from afar, -among the leafless trees; and so Laure, reining -in her horse, turned to her companion: -“Thou must leave us at once,” she whispered, -trembling.</p> - -<p class='c014'>He bent his head, and drew his horse to -a standstill. At the same time Yvain and -Eloise rode up, having just pledged themselves -to eternal devotion. After a moment’s hesitation, -Flammecœur leaned again toward Laure, -asking, this time fearfully,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Wilt thou tell me, lady, in what part of -the convent is thy cell?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>She looked at him, wondering, but answered -what he wanted, and then waited, in silence, -praying that he would ask another question. -He sat, however, with his head bent over so -that she could not see his face, and he said -nothing more. Laure sighed, looked up into -<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>the wintry sky, looked down to the snow-covered -earth, felt the pall of her frozen life -closing around her once again, and then got -a sudden, blind determination that that life -should not smother the little, creeping flame -that had to-day been lighted in her heart. -Looking sidewise at Flammecœur, who sat -bowed upon his horse, she whispered,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Shall we—see—each other yet again?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“By all the saints—and God—we shall! -We shall!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Alas, Angelique, we are late for vespers! -Haste!” cried Eloise, in the same moment.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure sent the spur into her palfrey, which -leaped forward like the stone from a sling. -Eloise followed after her at a terrifying pace, -and the troubadour and his page stood and -watched them till they were lost among the -trees. The two reached the priory gate almost -together; and before they were admitted, -Eloise, her face flushed and her eyes shining, -whispered imploringly to Laure: “Confess it -not! Confess it not! Else shall we never go -again!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>To this plea Laure had no time to make -reply; but the other, seeing her manner, had, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>somehow, no fear that she would betray herself, -and with her the delicious love-prattlings -of Yvain.</p> - -<p class='c014'>They found vespers just at an end, and -were reproved for their tardy return. Eloise -retreated to her cell at once, to repeat her penitential -Aves of the morning, and Laure retired -ostensibly for the same purpose.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Once alone in her cell, the young girl took -off her riding-garments,—the unusual cap and -veil, boots, gloves, and spur,—and put them -carefully away in her oaken chest. Afterwards -she straightened her bliault and her hair, set her -image of the Virgin straight upon its shelf, and -moved the priedieu a little more accurately -between the door and her bed. Then, standing -up, she looked about her. There was -nothing more to do. She was alone with her -heart, and she could no longer escape from -thinking. So she sat down on the bed, folded -her hands upon her knees, and in this wise -twisted out the meaning of her day, till she -found in her secret soul that the unspeakable, -the unholy, the most glorious, had come to -her, to fill the great void of her empty life.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'><em>CHAPTER FOUR</em><br /> <span class='large'>THE PASSION</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='c013'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_108.jpg' width='100' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> -In the evening of the day of -that momentous visit, after -compline was over, and she -was in her bed in her cell, -Laure yielded herself up to -sleep only after a rebellious -struggle; she wished intensely to lie awake -with her wonderful thoughts. Sleep prevailed, -however, and was sound and dreamless; for -she was physically tired out.</p> - -<p class='c014'>At two in the morning came the first boom -of the church bell pulled by the sleep-laden -sexton,—the beginning of the call to matins. -The night was very black; and only after -two or three minutes did Laure struggle up -from her bed, trembling with that dead, numb -feeling that results from being roused too suddenly -from heavy unconsciousness. Mechanically -<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>the young girl felt about for her lantern -and opened the door into the dimly lit corridor. -There were half a dozen nuns and novices -grouped about the stone lamp which burned all -night on the wall, and from which the sisters -were accustomed to light their cressets for -matins. Laure waited her turn in a dazed -manner, and when she had obtained the light, -went back to her cell, left the door unclosed -according to rule, and, placing the lantern on -the small table, knelt at her priedieu.</p> - -<p class='c014'>So far her every move had been mechanical. -Her brain was not yet awake. But, with -the first words of the <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Agnus Dei</span>, the full memory -of yesterday suddenly flashed upon her. -She had been at home, and had found there -Flammecœur!—Flammecœur! Her own heart -flamed up, and the prayer died away from it. -Her lips moved on, and the murmur of her -voice continued to swell the low chorus that -spread through the whole priory. But Laure -was not speaking those words. Her whole -mind and heart had turned irrevocably to -another subject,—to another god, the little, -rosy-winged boy that finds his way into the -sternest places, and lights them with his magic -<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>presence till they are changed for their inhabitants -beyond recognition. Strictly speaking, -Laure was not thinking of the trouvère. Her -thoughts refused to review him in the light of -her knowledge of him. She would not think -of his personality,—his face, eyes, form, or -manner. Her heart shrank from anything so -bold. She refused to question herself. Yet -her mind was full of him, and the other subject -in her thoughts was this: that in eleven days -more, were God pitying to her, she should, -perhaps—ever perhaps—see him again.</p> - -<p class='c014'>When matins and lauds were over, the -sisters returned to bed till the hour for dressing, -a quarter to five. Laure was accustomed -to sleep soundly through this period. But to-day -she refused to close her eyes. Nay, it -was ecstasy to her to lie dreaming of many old, -vague things that had scarce any connection -with her new heart, and yet would have had -no place at all with her had they not carried -as an undercurrent the image of that same -new god.</p> - -<p class='c014'>All day Laure went about with a song in -her soul. Why she should have been glad, -who can say? What possible hope for happiness -<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>there was for her, what idea of any -finale save one of grief, resignation, or despair, -she never thought to ask herself. She let her -new happiness take possession of her without -stopping to analyze it. And it was as well -that she did no analyzing. For a logical process -would inevitably have brought her to the -beginning of these things, to the moment, the -ineffable moment, when the hand of Flammecœur -had first rested on her own.</p> - -<p class='c014'>This first morning passed away. Dinner -was eaten, and recreation time came. Now -Eloise persistently sought Laure’s company; -and Laure, with equal persistence and quite -remarkable adroitness, avoided her. The -young nun knew, from the face of Eloise, -that there were a thousand silly thoughts -ready to come out of her; and Laure could -not bear to have her own delicate, rainbow -dreams so crudely disturbed. And there was -something more about the presence of Eloise -that disturbed the daughter of Le Crépuscule; -this was the understanding between them that -they should not confess the real reason for -their tardy arrival on the previous day. -Laure had made up her mind, tacitly, to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>confess nothing—yet. But she did not like -to be reminded of the fact.</p> - -<p class='c014'>That night Laure successfully resisted the -dictates of sleep, with the result that, all -next day, she felt dull and weak. When -dinner and sext were over, and recreation -came, she obtained ready permission to retire -to her cell instead of going to the garden -or the court or the library with the other -nuns. Once alone and safe from the attacks -of Eloise, who was becoming importunate, she -lay down on her bed and sank, almost at -once, to rest. While she slept, the sun -came out upon the outer world, and poured -its beams over the chill valley beyond the -priory. The gray, lowering clouds were -broken up. The heavens shone blue, and -the ice-crust shimmered with myriad, sparkling -diamonds. No sunlight could enter the -cell of sleep; for it was afternoon, and the -single little window looked toward the east. -But after nearly an hour of shining stillness, -there came a sound from the frozen vale that -was more beautiful than sunlight. It reached -Laure’s ears, and woke her. She rose up, -hearkening incredulously for a moment, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>then, with a smothered cry of delight, threw -herself forward again on the bed, and laughed -and moaned together into the cold sheets.</p> - -<p class='c014'>From below, just outside her window, rose -a voice, a tenor voice, high and clear and -mellow, singing a chanson of the south to -the accompaniment of a six-stringed lute. -After a few seconds Laure ventured to raise -her head and listen. With a thrill of ecstasy -she caught the words,—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c017'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ele ot plain le visage, si fu encolorez;</span></i></div> - <div class='line'><i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Les iex vairs et riants, lonc et traités le nez;</span></i></div> - <div class='line'><i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">La bouche vermeillête, le menton forcelé;</span></i></div> - <div class='line'><i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Le col plain et blanc plus que n’est flor de pré.</span></i>”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>At this point in the familiar song, sung -with a fervor she had never dreamed of, -Laure rose involuntarily from the bed, and, -redder than any flower, stole to the window. -Timidly, her heart beating so that she was -like to choke, she looked out into the snowy -clearing. Just beneath her, in the shadow -of the wall, so close that a whisper from -him might easily have been heard, stood -Flammecœur.</p> - -<p class='c014'>He was scanning closely the row of cell -windows above him, hoping against hope for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>a sight of Laure’s face. Ignorant as he was -of convent hours, he knew that he had but -the barest chance of making her hear; and -that there was less than this chance of seeing -her. Thus when Laure’s face, framed in its -soft white veil, looked out to him, Flammecœur -experienced a rush of emotion that was -overpowering. She inspired him with a reverence -that he had not known he could feel for -any woman. Her face was so glorified in his -eyes that she looked like an image of the Holy -Virgin. Breaking off in the middle of the -song, he fell upon his knees there in the -snow, uttering incoherent and indistinguishable -phrases of adoration.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Flammecœur was theatrical enough; also -he was hard, utterly unscrupulous, and a -scoffer at holy things. His only idol was -his love for beauty. This was his religion, -and he had worshipped it consistently from -boyhood. Now he had found its almost -perfect embodiment in this girl, in whom -innocence, purity, youth, and beauty were inextricably -mingled. And Flammecœur strove -to adjust his rather callous spirit to hers, -feeling that he would sooner breathe his last -<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>than shock her delicacy—till he had attained -his end.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Now, in the dying sunlight, the two talked -together; and in the light of his new reverence -the young nun lost a little of her timidity -and made open confession in her looks, -though never in her words, of her delight in -his presence.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Tell me, O Maiden of Angels,” he said, -addressing her in a term that at once brought -them both a sense of familiarity and of pleasure, -“tell me, is this thy regular hour of solitude? -Could I—might I hope—to see thee -often here—hold speech with thee—without -endangering thy devotions?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nay, verily!” whispered Laure, hastily. -“Oh, thou must not come! Nay, I am supposed -to be with the other sisters at this -hour of recreation. Only to-day was I permitted—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“And didst thou think of me? Hopest -thou I would come? Didst think—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Monsieur!” Laure’s tone was reproachful -and embarrassed.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Forgive me! Though verily I know not -how I have offended thee!”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>Laure was about to utter her reproach when -suddenly, around the corner of the wall, appeared -the head of Flammecœur’s horse. All -at once, at this apparition, the old spirit of -freedom and the old love of liberty rushed -over her. “Ah, would that I might leap down -there into the snow, and mount with thee thy -steed, and ride, and ride, and ride back to my -home in Le Crépuscule!” she cried out, utterly -forgetful of herself and of her position.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Instantly Flammecœur seized her mood. -“By all the saints, come on!” he cried. “I -will catch thee in mine arms; and we will ride! -We will ride and ride—not back—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Alas! Now Heaven forgive me! What -have I said? Farewell, monsieur! Indeed, -farewell!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>And ere Flammecœur could grasp her sudden -revulsion of feeling, she was gone; the -window above him was empty. He stayed -where he was for some moments, meditating -on what plea would be successful. Finally, -deciding silence the surer part, he remounted -his horse and turned slowly to the west, through -the chill evening, doing battle with himself. -He found that he was unable to cope with the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>flame that this pretty nun had kindled in his -brain. His anger rose against her, to be once -more overtopped by passion. And had he -not been so occupied in trying to regain sufficient -self-control to make some safe plan of -action, he might have known himself for the -knave he surely was.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In the priory three days went prayerfully -by; and at the end of that time Laure found -herself sick with misery. Flammecœur had -laid hold of her heart, and her struggles against -the thought of him began to grow stronger; -for she longed to escape from her present state -of madness. Incredible as it may seem, she -never had, in connection with him, one single -tainted thought. Laure was a peculiarly innocent -girl,—innocent even of any unshaped -desire or longing. The force of her nature -had always found relief in physical activity. -In her home life all things had been clean and -free before her. And in the convent the teaching -that emotion was sin had been accepted by -her without thought. Nevertheless, in her, all -unwaked, there lay a broad, passionate nature -that needed but a quickening touch to throw -her into such depths as, were she taken unawares, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>would eventually drag her to her doom. -Her ignorance was pitiable; and even now she -had entered alone upon a dark stretch of road, -the end of which she did not herself know, -and which none could prophesy to her.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Three days of unhappiness, of battle with -herself, and of longing for a sight of Flammecœur, -and then—he came. Again it was the -recreation hour, and Laure was in the garden, -walking in the cold with one or two of the sisters. -Her thoughts had strayed from the general -chatter, and her eyes, like her mind, looked -afar off. Her companions, rather accustomed -to Angelique’s vagaries, paid little attention to -her, and she pursued her reverie uninterrupted. -Suddenly, from out of the snowy stillness, a -sound reached her ears. For an instant her -heart ceased to beat; and she halted in her walk. -Yes, Flammecœur was singing, somewhere near. -It was the same chanson, and it came from -the other side of the priory. He must be -where he had been before. She looked at the -faces of the nuns beside her. Did they not -also hear? How dull, how intensely dull they -were! She went on for a few steps undecidedly. -Then she halted.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>“I had forgot,” she said quietly. “I must -to my cell. I have five Aves to repeat for inattention -at the reading of St. Elizabeth this -morning.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Methought they were to be said in chapter,” -observed one of her companions, indifferently.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nay; Reverend Mother gave permission,—in -my cell,” answered Laure, rather -weakly; for she saw that she should get into -difficulty if any one mentioned this matter -again. However, Flammecœur’s voice was -singing still and, flinging care to the winds, -she made a hasty escape.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Fifteen minutes later she was in the church, -kneeling at the shrine of St. Joseph. She -said twenty Aves there before she rose, yet got -no comfort from them. For twenty Aves is -small salve to the conscience for the first guilty -deceit of one’s life.</p> - -<p class='c014'>That evening was not wholly a pleasant one; -yet Laure underwent fierce gusts of happiness. -She had seen him again; she had held speech -with him, and had smiled when he looked at -her. She felt his looks like caresses, and was -half ashamed and half enamoured of them. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>Her night was filled with a tumult of dreams; -and when day dawned again she was hot with -the fever of unrest.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Days went by, and then weeks, and finally -two months, and March was on the world. -Hints of spring were borne down the breeze. -The deeply frozen earth began slowly, slowly -to throw off its weight of ice, and to open its -breast to the warm touches of the sun. The -black, bare branches of the forest trees waved -about uncannily, like gaunt arms, beckoning -to the distant summer. And in all this time -the situation of the little nun of Crépuscule -had not changed. The troubadour still lingered -at the Chateau, a welcome guest. And -still he haunted the priory, unknown to any -one save her whom he continually sought. As -yet he had done nothing, said not one word -that betrayed his intentions. He had waited -patiently till the time should be ripe; and now -that time approached. Laure had endured a -life of secret torture, but had not succeeded in -throwing off the shackles she had voluntarily -put on. Nay, she confessed now to herself -that, without his occasional coming, she could -not have lived. She chafed at their restricted -<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>intercourse. She longed to meet him where she -could put her hands into his, where she could -listen to the sound of his voice without the -terror of discovery. All this Flammecœur had -read in her, but still he waited till of her own -accord she should break her bonds.</p> - -<p class='c014'>There came a day in March when the two, -Laure and Flammecœur, with Eloise and her -now very <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bel ami</span></i>, Yvain, were riding from -Crépuscule to the priory. As they went, the -spring sun sent its beams aslant across the road; -and birds, newly arrived from the far south, -were site-hunting among the black trees. The -air was filled with the chilly sweetness that made -one dizzy with dreams of coming summer; and -both Laure and the trouvère grew slowly intoxicated -as they rode side by side, so close -that his knee touched her palfrey’s flank. -Behind them, Yvain and Eloise were still -discussing their love-notions. The afternoon -was misty with approaching sunset. In the -radiant golden light, Laure’s heart grew big -with unshed tears of life; and before the sobs -came, Flammecœur, leaning far toward her, -whispered thickly,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Thou must come to me alone! I must -<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>have thee alone. I must know thy lips. ’Fore -God, refuse me not, thou greatly beloved!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure drew a long, shivering breath and -looked slowly into his face. Her eyes rested -full upon his, and she did not speak, but he -read her reply.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Where shall I come to-night?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“To-night!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Assuredly. To-night. Dieu! Thinkest -thou that I can stand aloof from thee forever? -Thinkest thou my blood is water in my veins? -To-night!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure mused a little, her eyes looking afar -off, as if she dreamed. She brought them back -to him with a start. “To-night—by starlight—in -the convent garden. Canst thou climb -the wall?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Ah! thou shalt see!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure’s heart palpitated with the look he -gave her, and she sat silent under it, while, bit -by bit, all her training, all her year of precepts, -all herself, her womanhood, her truth, her -steadfastness to righteousness, slipped away -from her under the spell of this most powerful -of all emotions. And presently she turned to -him again with such an expression of exaltation -<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>in her poor face, that his heart warmed -to her with a tenderer feeling.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“At what hour?” he whispered.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“One hour after the last tolling of the bell -at compline after confession.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Confession!” the word slipped from him -before he thought. He saw Laure turn first -scarlet and then very white; and her lips -trembled.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Ah, Laure, most beloved, heed it not! -If there be any sin in loving as we love, lay -it all on me. For on my soul, I would leave -heaven itself gladly behind for thee! And -since God created thee as lovely as thou art, -wert thou not made to be beloved? Look, -Laure! see the gray bird there among the -trees! Behold, it is the bird of the Saint -Esprit! It is an omen. It is our heavenly -sign; therefore be not afraid.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>And as Laure promised him, so she did. -She understood so well how the Flaming-heart -wanted to be alone with her: did she not also -long for solitude with him? And if they were -alone for one hour, God was above. He saw -and He knew all things. Why, then, should -she be afraid?</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>Therefore Laure went to her cell that night -with her soul unshriven, and a heavy weight -upon it of mingled joy and pain. Lying fully -dressed upon her bed, she heard the great bell -boom out the close of another day of praise to -God. And when the last vibration had died -down the wind, and the sexton had wended her -pious way to bed, Laure rose, and prepared herself -to go out into the garden. All that she -had to do was to wrap herself in her mantle -and to cover her head with a hood and veil. -But first, following an instinct of dormant conscience, -she unwound the rosary from her waist -and hung it on the rail of the priedieu, before -which she had not prayed to-night. Then she -sat down upon her bed and waited,—waited -through centuries, through ages, till it seemed -to her that dawn must be about to break. But -she felt that should she reach the garden before -the coming of Flammecœur, her heart would -fail indeed. During this time she refused to -allow herself to think, though she was very cold -and continued to tremble. Finally, when her -nerves would stay her no longer, she rose and -left her cell. The convent was open before -her. The nuns were all asleep. Her sandalled -<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>feet made no noise upon the stones, and she -passed in safety through corridors and rooms -till she reached the library, from which there -was an open exit to the garden.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In the doorway she paused and looked out -upon the pale moonlit scene. Her heart was -beating quite steadily now, and she was able to -consider almost with calmness the possibility -that she was early. The light from the half-moon -fell upon her where she stood, and suddenly -she beheld a dark-cloaked figure run -out of the shrubbery by the northwestern wall -and come hurrying toward her. At the same -moment she herself started forward, half fearfully. -A moment later she was caught in -Flammecœur’s arms, and a rain of kisses beat -down upon her face.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Gasping, crimson, horrified, she tore herself -away from the embrace with the strength of -one outraged.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Stop! In God’s name, stop! Wouldst -do me dishonor?” she cried out, in an anger -that bordered upon tears.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Dishonor! Mon Dieu! wherefore, prithee, -camest thou into this garden, then? -Was it to stand here in this doorway and permit -<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>me to scream my devotion at thee from -yonder wall?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>In her nervousness Laure suddenly laughed. -But she was forced back to gravity, as he -went on with a sudden rush of passion,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Laure, Laure, is it thy intent to drive me -mad? Faith, what man would forbear as I -have forborne with thee? Thinkest thou any -one would wait for weeks, nay, months, as -I have waited, and feel thee at last free and in -his arms, to be instantly thrust away again? -Nay, by my soul! Thou art here, and thou -art mine, and I have much to ask of thee. -Christ! Thine eyes! Thy hair! Laure, -I shall bear thee away from this prison-house. -I will have thee for all mine own. Thou must -leave thy cell by night, and come to me here. -Outside the wall Yvain will wait with horses; -and we will ride away—ride like hounds—out -of this land of tears, southward, into the -country of freedom and roses and love! There -we shall dwell together, thou and I—thou and -I—Laure, Laure, my sweet! And who in -all God’s earth before hath known such joy as -we shall know! Answer me, Laure, answer -me! Say thou’lt come!”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>Once again he took her in his arms, but -more calmly now, the force of his passion -having spent itself in words but half articulate. -And now he perceived how she was -all trembling and afraid; and so he soothed -her with gentle phrases and tender caresses, -for indeed Flammecœur loved this maid as -truly as it was in him to love at all. And -it seemed to him a joy to have the protecting -of her.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Speak to me, answer me, greatly beloved,” -he insisted, drawing her face up to his.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure clung to him and wept, and did not -speak. All that followed was but a confusion -of kisses, of pleadings, of tears and restraints, -to both of them; and presently Laure was -struggling from his arms and crying to him -that it was near matins, and she must go. -Once again, and finally, Flammecœur demanded -a reply to his plea. There was hesitation, -doubting, evident desire, and very evident -fear. Then, staking everything, he urged her -thus,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Listen, Laure. I would not have thee -decide all things now in thy mind. In one -week I will be here, as to-night, at the same -<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>hour, in this place; and all things will be prepared -for our flight. If thou come to me before -the matins bell rings out, all will be well, -and we shall go forth together into heaven. -If thou come not,—why, I have tarried far -too long in this Bretagne, and Yvain and I -will go on together into the world, and thou -shalt see me no more forever. Fair choice and -honorable I give thee, for that I love thee better -than myself. Now fare thee well, lady of -my heart’s delight. God in His sweet mercy -give thee into my keeping!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>With a final kiss he put her from him and -saw her go; and then he threw himself over -the wall, and set out on his return ride to the -Castle by the sea.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure descended to prime next morning, -trembling for fear of unknown possibilities. -But no one in the church saw her muddy sandals; -and her skirts and mantle were not more -soiled round the bottom than was customary -with those nuns that took their recreation in -the garden. By the time the breaking of the -fast occurred, she was reassured, and felt herself -safe from the consequences of her night. -Then, and only then, did she turn her mind to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>the choice that she must make during the -ensuing sennight.</p> - -<p class='c014'>That week was one of terror by night and -woe by day. Hourly she resolved to renounce -forever all thoughts of the flesh, confess her -sin, and remain true to the convent for life. -For the first three days these renewals of faith -made her strong and stronger. She wept and -she prayed and she hoped for strength; and -finally she began to believe that the Devil was -beaten. And yet—and yet—she did not -even now confess the story of her acquaintance -with Flammecœur. She said to herself that -she would win this last fight alone; but she -did not seek to find if there was self-deception -in that excuse. No one but the girl Eloise -had any idea that there existed such a person -as the trouvère; and Eloise was unaware that -Sœur Angelique had ever seen that gallant gentleman -save when she and Yvain were present. -Moreover, the stupid one was becoming alarmed -lest the sudden devotional fervor of Demoiselle -Angelique should lead to the cessation of -those meetings for which her vague soul so -impiously thirsted. The rest of the sisters -perceived Laure’s extra prayers and rigorous -<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>fasting with admiration and approval, and put -them down to one of those sudden rushes of -fervor to which young nuns were peculiarly -subject.</p> - -<p class='c014'>After three days of this devotional effort, the -Devil widened his little wedge of temptation, and -roused in her an overpowering desire to see her -lover again. By now she had lost her shame -at the first hot kiss ever laid upon her lips, and—alas, -poor humanity!—was longing secretly -for more. So long, however, as Flammecœur -was still in Le Crépuscule, she believed that she -could endure everything. But she knew that -after four days he would be there no more; -and if she let her chance go, it was the last she -should ever have. Then her mind strayed to -the after-picture of her life here in the nunnery; -and at the thought her heart grew numb and -cold. Yet still she fought and prayed, trusting -to no one her weight of temptation, keeping -steadfastly to that self-deceptive determination -to finish the battle alone.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The torturing week came slowly to an end. -On the final night, after compline, she went to -her cell feeling like a spirit condemned to eternal -night. Once alone, face to face with her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>soul, she sat down upon a chair, bent her head -upon her breast, and thought. She did not -extinguish her light, neither did she make -preparations for bed. Unconsciously she set -herself to wait through the hour following compline, -as if its finish would bring the end of -her trial. The minutes were passing smoothly -by, and there was a great, unuttered cry of -terror in her heart. What should she do? -Nay, at the last minute, what <em>would</em> she do? -Here her mind broke. She could think no -more. Her brain was a vacuum. Presently -her muscles began to twitch. Her flesh became -cold and damp, and the hot saliva poured -into her mouth. Would that hour never end?</p> - -<p class='c014'>It ended. By now Flammecœur was in the -garden, three hundred feet away. Flammecœur -was waiting for her. Horses were there, -and garments for her,—other garments than -these of sickening white wool. How long -would the trouvère wait? Till matins, he -had said. But if that were not true? If he -should go before—if he were going <em>now</em>!</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure started to her feet, halted, hesitated, -then sank slowly to her knees. The first words -of a prayer came from her lips; but in the middle -<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>of the phrase she was silent. Prayer was -suddenly nothing to her. She had prayed so -much; she had prayed so long! The beauty -of appeals to the Most High was lost just now. -She felt all the weight of her never-satisfied -religion upon her, and she revolted at it. For -the moment love itself seemed desirable only in -so much as it would get her away from this place -of her hypocrisy. A sudden thought of her -mother came to her. For one moment—two—five—she -kept her mind fixed. Then she -sobbed. Flammecœur was below, calling to her -with every fibre of his being. She knew that. -She could see him waiting there, her cloak -over his arm. With a low wail she stretched -out her arms to the mental image. Afterwards, -scarcely knowing what she did, she knelt down -before the bright-painted picture of the Madonna -on the wall of her cell, and kissed the -stones of the floor below it.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Then she stood up, pressing her hands -tightly to her throat to ease the pain there. -She looked around her, and in that look saw -everything in the little stone room that had -for so long been her home. Then, removing -from her head the coif, wimple, and veil, the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>symbols of her virginity, she extinguished her -lantern, and walked, blindly and wearily, out -of her cell. So she passed, without making -any noise, through the convent, into the library, -and out—out—out into the garden beyond.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Instantly Flammecœur was at her side. -“Laure!” cried he, half laughing in his triumph. -“Laure! Now we shall go!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Over his arm he carried a voluminous black -mantle and a close, dark hood. These he put -upon her, getting small assistance in the matter, -for Laure’s movements were wooden, her hands -like ice.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Now—canst climb the wall with me?” he -asked, gazing at her in her transformation, and -noting how pure and white her skin showed in -its dark frame.</p> - -<p class='c014'>She gasped and bent her head. Thereupon -he seized her in his arms and carried her to the -wall. There she surpassed his hopes; for her -old, tomboyish skill suddenly came back to -her, and she scrambled up the rough stones -more agilely than he. Once in the road outside -the garden, Flammecœur gave a low -whistle. Then, out of the shadow of the -wood, on the north side of the road, came -<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>Yvain, riding one steed, and leading that of -Flammecœur, on which were both saddle and -pillion. Flammecœur leaped to his place, and, -bending over, held out his hand to Laure.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Thou comest freely,” he whispered.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure looked up into his eyes. “Freely,” -she answered, surrendering her soul.</p> - -<p class='c014'>He laughed again, softly, as she climbed up -behind him, by the help of his feet and his -hands. And then, in another moment, they -were off, into the moonlit night. And what -that night concealed from Laure, what future -of fierce joy, of terror, of misery, and of unutterable -heartbreak, how should she know, -poor girl, whose only guide was God Inscrutable, -working His mysterious way alone, in -heaven on high?</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'><em>CHAPTER FIVE</em><br /> <span class='large'>SHADOWS</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='c013'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_135.jpg' width='100' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> -On the day after Laure’s flight, -Madame Eleanore left the -great dinner-table and went -to her bedroom early in the -afternoon. Once again, as a -year ago, she was alone there, -hovering over her priedieu. Only this day -was not sunny, but cold and damp, and very -gray. Eleanore was in her usual mood of -lonely melancholy, but when Alixe tapped at -the door she was admitted, and madame ceased -her devotions and bade the girl come in and -sit down to her embroidery frame beside the -window. Latterly it had become a habit of -Alixe’s to break in upon her foster-mother’s -elected solitude, and to draw her, willy-nilly, -out of her sadness. If madame perceived the -kindly intention in these interruptions, she did -<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>not comment upon it, but accepted the maid’s -devotion with growing affection.</p> - -<p class='c014'>When Alixe entered, madame also seated -herself near the window, yet did not take up -any work, leaving the tambour frame and -spinning-wheel both idle in their places. She -regarded Alixe for a few moments in silence, -wondering why the young girl did not speak, -finally putting her dulness down to the fact -that it was but yesterday morning they had -bidden Flammecœur and his squire God-speed -on their journey to Normandy. Their long -sojourn at Crépuscule had brought a gayety to -the Castle that made it doubly dull now that -they were gone. Madame pondered for some -time on the subject, and presently spoke of it.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Sieur Bertrand hath a dreary sky for his -journey.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“But a promise of beauty in the land to -which he goeth,” responded Alixe, with something -of an effort.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Mayhap. I have not been in Normandy.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>And here the conversation ended. They -sat together, these two women, listening to the -incessant beating of the heavy waves on the -cliff far below, and to the tap, tap, of the rain -<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>upon the windows; but neither found it in her -heart to speak again. Alixe was shading her -bird from blue into green, and Eleanore sat -with folded hands, her eyes looking far away, -musing upon the nothingness of her life. Suddenly -there came a clamor at the door. Somewhat -startled, Eleanore called admittance, and -immediately David the dwarf walked into the -room, stepped to the right of the doorway, -and ushered in his companion, announcing her -gravely,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Sœur Celeste from the <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Couvent des -Madeleines</span>.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>The sub-prioress, her white cloak and veil -damp and stringing with rain, came slowly into -the room and courtesied, first to Eleanore, then -to Alixe.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Madame rose hastily, in some surprise, and -went forward.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Give you God’s greeting, good sister,” she -said.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The nun returned the salutation, and then, -with some hesitation, indicated the little dwarf -in a gesture that showed her desire that he -should leave the room. Madame accordingly -motioned him away, and when he was gone, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>turned to the nun with a hint of anxiety on -her face. The new-comer did not hesitate -in her mission. Leaning over, she asked -eagerly,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Madame, is Angelique here, with you?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore looked at her blankly. “Laure?—Laure -is with you. Laure is—What -sayest thou, woman?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Sœur Celeste resignedly bent her head. For -some seconds nothing was said. Alixe, her face -grown ashen, her body changed to ice, rose, and -moved to the side of madame. Then she asked -softly, “What hath happened, good sister?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Angelique—Laure—the demoiselle—is -not in the convent. We have searched for her -everywhere. Her veil and wimple were found -in her cell upon the bed. Beyond this there is -no trace of her. This morning she came not -to the church for prime, and we thought she -had overslept. She hath so much fasted and -prayed of late that Reverend Mother granted -indulgence, and bade us let her rest. At breaking -of the fast Sœur Eloise was despatched to -her cell, and returned with word that she was -not there. Since that hour even the daily services -have been suspended, while we sought -<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>for her. In the garden we found footprints,—those -of a woman, and of a man. Perchance -they were hers—yet—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“It is a lie! That is a lie!” burst from -Eleanore’s white lips. “Woman, woman, unsay -thy words! No man hath ever seen her,—my -Laure!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I said it not, Madame Eleanore; I but said -mayhap,” ventured the gentle sister, timidly. -But Eleanore did not hear her. White, rigid, -her every muscle drawn tense, she stood there -staring before her into space; while Alixe, -feeling this scene to be too intimate even for -her presence, glided slowly from the room.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Immediately outside the closed door stood -David the dwarf, moving restlessly from one -spot to another, biting his thick lips, and -working his heavy black brows with great nervousness. -Seeing Alixe, he seized upon her -at once.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I know what it is: Laure hath gone away, -hath she not?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe simply nodded.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Yea, I know it,—with that scoundrelly -trouvère!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe quivered as if she had been touched -<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>upon the raw; but David paid no attention to -her movement of pain.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Come,” he jerked out nervously; “come -away from this room. Come below. I will -tell thee what I saw in the fellow.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>The two of them walked silently across the -broad upper hall and down the great staircase -into the lower room, which was always deserted -at this hour. Here Alixe and the dwarf -seated themselves on tabourets at one of the -long tables, and David began to talk. It -seemed that he had watched Flammecœur -closely, and had seen a good deal of his attentions -to Laure; knew how he rode with -her to and from the priory, guessed Laure’s -all too apparent feeling for him, and was -aware that most of the hours in which the -troubadour had supposedly hunted, hawked, -or gone to St. Nazaire, had really been spent -in the neighborhood of the priory, though -how much he had seen of the nun, David -could not know.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe listened to him without much comment, -and agreed in her heart with all that he -said. But she was at a loss to comprehend -her own bitterness of spirit at thought of what -<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>Flammecœur had done. She loved Laure -truly; yet these sensations of hers were not -for Laure, but for herself alone; and this girl, -so acute at reading the minds of others, failed -entirely to read her own; for had she not -soundly hated Flammecœur? <em>Had</em> she hated -him?</p> - -<p class='c014'>It was a heavy hour that these two, dwarf -and peasant born, spent waiting for their lady -to give some sign. At length, however, there -were footsteps on the stairs, and both of them -rose, as Eleanore, followed, not accompanied, -by the white-robed nun, descended.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Madame was very erect, very brilliant-eyed, -very white and stiff, but she had perfect control -over herself. As she swept toward the -great door, David could plainly see her state, -and Alixe read well her heart; yet neither of -them could but admire her splendid self-possession. -Out of the Castle and into the courtyard -she went, the three others following her, -on her way to the keep. In the open doorway -of the rough stone tower, she halted; and the -dozen lolling henchmen within instantly started -to their feet.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“My men,” she said, in a voice as steady -<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>and as commanding as that of a lord of Crépuscule, -“my men, a great blow has fallen -upon me, and a disgrace to all that dwell in -this Castle. Laure, my daughter, your demoiselle, -the lady of all our hearts, hath been -stolen from the place of her consecration. She -hath been abducted from the priory of the -Holy Madeleine, by one that hath broken our -bread, and received our hospitality. Bertrand -Flammecœur, the troubadour, hath brought -dishonor upon Le Crépuscule, and I ask you -all to avenge your lord and me!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Here she was interrupted by a chorus begun -in low murmurs of astonishment, and now -risen to a roar of wrath. After a moment she -raised her hand, and, in the silence that quickly -ensued, began again,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“In the name of your lord, I bid you avenge -us! Ride forth, every man of you, into the -countryside, in pursuit of the flying hound. -Go every man by a different road, nor halt by -day or night till you bring me tidings of my -child. And to him that shall find and bring -her back to me, will I give honor and riches -and great love, such as I would give to none -that was not of noble blood. Go, nor stay to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>talk of it.—Go forth in the name of God—and -bring me back my child!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>The men needed no further urging to action. -As she ceased to speak they sprang from their -places, and began preparations for departure -with a spirit that showed their devotion to -madame and to Laure. Madame stayed in -the courtyard till Sœur Celeste and the last -henchman had ridden away; and then, when -there was no more to see, she turned to Alixe, -and, leaning heavily upon the young girl’s -shoulder, slowly mounted to her darkening -chamber and lay down upon her tapestried -bed. Alixe moved gently about the room, -bringing her lady such physical comforts as she -could, though these were not many. Neither -of them spoke, and neither wept. Eleanore -lay motionless, staring out into the dusk. -Alixe’s eyes closed every now and then, with a -kind of deadly weariness that was not physical. -But she did not leave madame.</p> - -<p class='c014'>After a long time, when it had grown quite -dark, Alixe asked suddenly,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Wouldst have a message sent to Rennes, -madame?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“To Gerault? No, it is too late. What -<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>could he do? Nay, I will not have the -shame of his house published abroad in the -Duke’s capital. Speak of it no more.” And, -obediently, Alixe was silent.</p> - -<p class='c014'>It was now long past the early supper hour, -but neither of the women went downstairs. -The thought of food did not occur to Eleanore. -Alixe sat by the closed window, brooding -deeply. Darkness had come over the sea, and -with it clouds dispersed so that a few stars -glimmered forth, and at times a moon showed -through the ragged mists. Downstairs the -young men and maidens had resorted to their -usual evening amusements of games, but they -played without spirit, and finally, one by one, -heavy with unvoiced foreboding, crept off to -rest. David the dwarf had not been among -them at all to-night. Ever since the ending -of supper he had sat outside the door of -madame’s room, waiting, patiently, for some -sound to come from within. Everything, however, -was silent. From her bed the mother, -tearless, bright-eyed, watched the broken moonlight -creep along the floor, past the figure of -Alixe. Her mind was filled with terrible things,—pictures -of Laure, and of what the young -<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>girl was doubtless enduring. For a long time -she contained herself under these thoughts, -but finally, racked with unbearable misery, she -started up, crying aloud,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Alixe! Alixe! Methinks I shall go mad!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>As she spoke, madame rose from the bed, -stumbled across the floor, flung open one of -the windows, and looked out upon the splendor -of the tumbling, moonlit sea. After a moment -or two she felt upon her arm a gentle touch, -and she knew that Alixe was beside her.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Mad with thy thoughts, madame? Indeed, -meseemeth Laure will not die. Doubtless -the Sieur Trouvère loveth her—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>She was interrupted by a long groan.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Madame?” she whispered, in soft deprecation.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Not die, Alixe? Not <em>die</em>? Dieu! It -were now my one prayer for her that she -might quickly die!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nay, what is there so terrible for her, save -that she hath brought upon herself damnation -an she die unrepentant? Wouldst thou not -have her live to repent and be shriven?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore groaned again. “Thou art too -young to understand, Alixe. Ah! her purity! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>her innocence! How she will suffer! -There is no suffering like unto it.” Madame -slipped to her knees, there by the window, and -putting her arms upon the sill, buried her head -in them, and drew two or three terrible breaths. -Alixe, helpless, fighting to keep down her own -secret woe in the face of this more bitter grief, -felt herself useless. She remained perfectly -still, looking out at the sea, but noting nothing -of its beauty, till, all at once, madame began -to speak again, in a muffled voice,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I remember well my wedding with the -Sieur du Crépuscule. I was of the age and of -the innocence of Laure. Never was mortal so -happy as I, upon the day of the ceremony at -Laval. I loved my lord, and he had given all -his honor into my keeping. But had the bitterness -of guilt been on me when I was brought -home to Le Crépuscule, alone and a stranger -in his house, I know not if I could have lived -through the shame and bitterness of my first -days. Thou canst not know, Alixe; but the -humiliation of that time is as fresh in my -memory as ’twere but yesterday. Ah! leave -me now, maiden. Leave me alone. Thou’st -been good and faithful to me, but a mother’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>grief she must bear alone. Go thou to bed, -child, and, in the name of pity, pray for thy -sister!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>So she sent Alixe from the room, and made -the door fast after her. After this she did not -return to her place at the window, but began -slowly to make ready for the night. When at -length she was prepared, she wrapped herself -closely in a warm woollen mantle, and went to -her priedieu. Laure, from the priory, had -ceased to accost Heaven. Therefore madame -took her daughter’s place, and thence through -the night ascended an unceasing, bitter, commanding -prayer that Laure should be restored -to her mother’s house, or else be mercifully -received into the more accessible hereafter.</p> - -<p class='c014'>When morning dawned, her great bed had -not been slept in, but throughout that day -Eleanore sought no rest. She spent the hours -passing from the hall to the keep and thence -to the tower at the drawbridge, waiting, hoping, -praying for tidings. During the afternoon -three or four henchmen rode in, exhausted. -But none of them had found any trace of Laure. -One, however, who had taken the St. Nazaire -road and had reached that town during the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>night, had learned that Flammecœur and his -page had been there on the afternoon of the -day they left Crépuscule. And, upon further -search, this man found a shop where the trouvère -had bought a lady’s mantle and hood, -both black. This was all the news that could -be got; but it was enough to prove, without -the least doubt, Flammecœur’s guilt.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Late in the afternoon Alixe went to work -among the falcons, changing some of them -from their winter-house to the open falconry in -the field. Madame, seeing her at work, went -out and watched her for a time. Alixe answered -her few remarks with respect, but -would not talk herself. The girl was dark-browed -to-day, and very silent, and madame, -perceiving that something troubled her, shortly -left her to herself, and began to pace the damp -turf. Hither, presently, came David, with -the news that Monseigneur de St. Nazaire -had come.</p> - -<p class='c014'>With a cry of sudden relief madame hurried -back to the Castle, where the Bishop awaited -her. He was gowned as usual in his violet, -with round black cap, and gauntlet cut to show -his ring. And as she came into the great hall, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>he advanced to her with both hands outstretched -and a look of trouble in his clear eyes.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Eleanore, for the first time in many years -I come to you in sorrow, to bring to you what -comfort the Church can give,” he said gently, -fixing his eyes upon her to read how she had -taken her blow, and from it decide what his -attitude toward her should be. For St. Nazaire -had a great and affectionate respect for -Eleanore, and he was accustomed to treat her -with a consideration that he used toward no -other woman. It was for this that he had -come to her in her grief, at the first moment -that he heard the news of Laure’s flight.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Come thou into this room, where we can -be alone,” she said quickly, leading him into -the round armory that opened off the great -hall immediately opposite the chapel. Half -closing the heavy door, she sat down on a -wooden settle, motioning the Bishop to a -tabouret near at hand.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Is there any news of her? What hast -thou heard?” she asked eagerly, bending -toward him.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I come but now from the priory, where -I chanced to go to-day. This morning the girl -<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>Eloise, a lay sister, she that was accustomed -to ride hither from the priory with Laure, -confessed to many rides and love-passages between -herself and Yvain the young squire, -while Bertrand Flammecœur followed Laure.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Madame drew a sharp breath, and the Bishop -continued: “The girl is now under heavy -penance; yet is she a silly thing, and in my -heart I find no great blame for her.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Then there hath been no word—no news—of -Laure? Left she no token in her cell?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nothing, Eleanore, nothing.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Ah, St. Nazaire! St. Nazaire! how did -we that cruel thing? How took we away from -a young girl all her freedom, all her youth, all -her love of life? Know I not enough of the -woe of loneliness, that I should have sent her -forth into that living death? Alas! alas! I -am all to blame.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Not wholly thou, madame. Perhaps the -Church also,” said the Bishop, softly.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore looked at him in something of -amazement. It was the first time that he had -ever suggested any criticism of the Church. -But after these words had escaped him, the -Bishop paused for a little and fixed upon -<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>Eleanore a look that she read aright. It -told her many things that she had guessed -before, many unuttered things that had drawn -her closely to St. Nazaire; but it told her -also that these things must never be discussed -between them; that never again would the -man be guilty of so heretical an utterance as -that which he had just voiced.</p> - -<p class='c014'>After this he began to speak again, still in -the same tone of sympathy, but with a subtle -difference in the general tenor of his views. -He told her, in a manner eloquent with simplicity, -of his talk with Laure on the eve of -her consecration. He reminded Eleanore that -Laure had entered of her own free will upon -the life of a nun. He recalled the girl’s contentment -throughout the period of her novitiate; -and finally, seeing that he had succeeded -in obliterating some of the self-reproach in this -woman to whom he was so sincerely attached, -he began to prepare her for the blow that he -was about to deal, to tell her what words could -not soften, to inflict a wound that time could -not heal, but which, according to the law of -the Roman Catholic Church, he was bound to -administer.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>Eleanore listened to his plausibly logical -phrases with close attention. She sat there -before him, elbow on knee, her head resting -on her hand, her eyes wandering over the -armor-strewn walls. The Bishop talked around -his subject, circling ever a little nearer to its -climax; but he was still far from the end when -madame, suddenly straightening up and looking -full into his eyes, interrupted him to ask -baldly: “Monseigneur, hast thou never, in -thy heart, known the yearning for a woman’s -love?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Many a time and oft, madame, I have -<em>felt</em> love—a deeply reverent love—for woman; -and I have rejoiced therein, and given thanks -to God,” was the careful reply.</p> - -<p class='c014'>But Eleanore had begun her attack, and she -would not be repulsed in the first onslaught. -“And has no woman, Reverend Father, known -thy love?” she demanded.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Madame!” A pale flush overspread St. -Nazaire’s face. “That question is not—kind,” -he said haltingly, but without rebuke.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nay. I am not kind now. Make me -answer.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>St. Nazaire looked at her thoughtfully, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>weighed certain things in certain balances. -Because of many years of the confessional and -also of free confidence he knew Eleanore thoroughly,—knew -how she had suffered every -soul-torment; knew her unswerving virtue; -sympathized with her intense loneliness. He -prized her trust in him more than she was -aware, and he feared to jeopardize that confidence -now by whatever answer he should -make. Ignorant of the purport of her questions, -he yet saw that she was in terrible -earnest in them. So finally he did the honest -and straightforward thing. Answering her -look, eye for eye, he said slowly: “Yea, -Eleanore of Le Crépuscule, a woman hath -known my love. What then?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Then if thou, a good man and as strong -as any the Church ever knew, found that to -human nature a loveless life is an impossibility, -how shouldst thou blame a maid, high-strung, -full of youth, vitality, emotions that she has -not tried, for yielding to the same temptation -before which thou didst fall? How is it right -that the Church—that God—should demand -so much?—should ask more than His creatures -can give?”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>“Eleanore! Eleanore! thou shalt not question -God!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I do not question Him. It is—it is—” -untried in this exercise, she groped for words. -“It is what ye say He saith. It is what ye -declare His will to be that I question.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“What, Eleanore, have I declared His will -to be? Have I yet blamed or chid the waywardness -of Laure, whom indeed I loved as a -dear daughter,—a child of purity and faith?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Then, then,” Eleanore bent over eagerly, -and her voice shook,—“then, an <em>thou</em> blamest -her not, St. Nazaire, thou wilt not—” she -clasped her hands in an agony of pleading, -“thou wilt not put upon her the terrible ban? -Thou wilt not excommunicate her?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>It was only then that the Bishop realized -how skilfully she had led up to her point. -He had not realized that he was dealing -with perception engendered by an agony of -grief and fear. As she reached her climax, he -sprang to his feet, and began to pace the room, -hands clasped behind him, brows much contracted, -head far bent upon his breast. Eleanore, -meantime, had slid to her knees and -watched him as he moved.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>“If thou wilt spare her, ask what thou wilt -of me. I will do her penance, whatever thou -shalt decree. I will give money; I will give -all that remains to me of my dower, freely and -with light heart, to the Church. I will aid -whomsoever thou wilt of thy poor, I—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Cease, Eleanore! These things cannot -avail against the Church. Thou must not -tempt, thou must not question; thou canst -not understand <em>the Law</em>! I am but an instrument -of that Law, and am commanded by it. -Laure, the bride of Heaven, hath forsaken her -chosen life. She must endure her punishment, -being guilty of—thou knowest the sin. -Next Sunday the ban must be put upon her. -In doing so, I but obey a higher power. Eleanore, -Eleanore, rise from thy knees! Thou -art tearing at my heart! Peace, woman! -Peace, and let me go!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore, in her agony of despair, had -crept to him and clasped his knees, mutely -imploring the pity that he dared not show. -Logic and reason he had put from him, holding -fast to the tenets of that Church that had -made him what he was. In all his career he -had not been so tried, so tempted, to slip his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>duty. But, through the crucial moment, he -did not speak; and after that he was safe from -attack.</p> - -<p class='c014'>After many minutes the mother loosed her -clasp of him, and ceased to moan, and let him -go; for she saw that he could not help her. -And as he passed slowly out of the room, she -rose to her feet and looked after him blindly. -Then she groped her way to the door, crossed -the great hall, and, with her burden, ascended -the stairs and went to her own room. Next -morning, when the Bishop said mass in the -chapel, madame, for the first time in thirty -years on such an occasion, was not present. -Nor did monseigneur seem astonished at the -fact, but left his sympathy for her before he -rode away to St. Nazaire.</p> - -<p class='c014'>All that afternoon and night, indeed, till after -dawn of the next day, weary henchmen of the -keep came straggling in on spent horses, fruitless -returned from a fruitless quest. And when -they were all back again, and the hope of seeing -Laure was gone, the shadow of loneliness -settled a little lower over the great pile of stone, -and the silence within the Castle grew more and -more intense to the aching heart within.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>In the general desolation of Castle life -Alixe, the unnatural child of peasant blood, -came very close to the heart of Eleanore. -Through the long, budding spring madame -fought a terrible battle with herself against an -overpowering desire for an end of life, for the -peace of death. And in these times Alixe -often drew her away from herself by getting -her to hunt and to hawk,—two amusements -in which madame had been wont to indulge -eagerly in her youth, and which she found were -still possible for her, though she had grown to -what she thought old-womanhood. Besides -this, she and Alixe took the long walks that -Laure had formerly delighted in; and the two -ventured into many a deep cave in the sea-cliffs, -and explored many crevices that no -native of the coast would enter. In these -places they found fair treasures of the sea, -but were never accosted by any of the supernatural -beings said to inhabit such spots. -Nor, though they listened many times for it at -twilight, did either of them hear, a single time, -the long, low, wailing cries of the spirit of the -lost Lenore.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In this way some pleasures entered unawares -<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>into the life of Eleanore. Perhaps there were -other pleasures also, so simple and so familiar -that she took no cognizance of them as such. -Perhaps of a morning, in the spinning-room, -when her fingers flew under some familiar, -pretty task, and her ears were filled with the -chatter of the demoiselles, who still strove -after light-hearted joys amid their gray surroundings, -she found forgetfulness of Laure’s -bitter disgrace. Or better still, when, at the -sunset hour, she paced the grassy falcon-field, -watching the glories of the sea and sky, there -came to her heart that benison of Nature that -God has devised for all of us in our days of -woe. But when she was alone, in early afternoon, -or, most of all, through the silent night-watches, -she was sometimes overcome with -sheer terror of herself and of her solitude. At -such times she fought the creeping horror with -what weapons time had given her, battling so -bravely that she never suffered utter rout.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In a dim, quiet way the weeks sped on, -leaving behind them no trace of what had -been, nothing for memory to hang her lightest -fabric on. In all the weeks that lay between -Laure’s flight and the coming of July, Eleanore -<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>could remember distinctly just one talk -beside the bitter one with St. Nazaire. And -this other was with neither Alixe nor the -Bishop, who, however, made it a point to come -once in a fortnight to Le Crépuscule.</p> - -<p class='c014'>On a fair morning in May, as the dawn crept -up out of the east not many hours after midnight, -Eleanore rose, in the early flush, and, clothing -herself lightly, left her room with the intention -of going into the fields to walk. No one was to -be seen as she entered the lower hall; but, to -her amazement, the great door stood half open, -and through it poured a draught of morning -air, rich with the perfume of blossoming -trees and fertile fields. Wondering that Alixe -should have risen so early, Eleanore left the -Castle and hurried out of the courtyard into -the strip of meadow lying between the wall -and the dry moat. Here, near the north edge -of the cliff, sitting cross-legged in the grass, -sat David the dwarf, holding in his hand something -to which he talked in a low, solemn tone. -Advancing noiselessly toward him, Eleanore -perceived that it was a dead butterfly that he -had found, and to which he was pouring out -his soul. Amazed at the first phrases that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>caught her ears, she halted a few steps behind -him, and there learned something of the -thoughts that lay hidden in his volatile brain.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“White Butterfly, White Butterfly, thou -frail and delicate child of summer, speak to -me again! Say, hast thou found death as -fair as life, thou White and Still? Came the -messenger to thee unawares, or didst thou see -his face and know it? Wast thou confessed, -White Butterfly? Wentest thou forth absolved -of all thy fluttering sins?</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Say, wanderer, didst love thy life? Wast -afraid or sorrowful to leave it, in its dawn? -Or foundest thou comfort in the thought of -eternal rest for thy battling wings?</p> - -<p class='c014'>“And I, O living Thistledown, teach me -my way! Shall I follow thee into the great -world, to roam there seeking why men love to -live? Or shall I also, like thee, leave it all? -Shall I go, knowing nothing of the joy of life? -Or, again, shall I practise a weary courtesy, -and remain to bring echoes of laughter into -that Twilight Castle, for the sake of the love I -bear its Twilight Lady? Her life, my flutterer, -hath been such a dream of tears as even -thou and I, dead thing, have never known. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>Yea, many a time while I laughed and shouted -at the light crew of damsels that sleep there -now, my heart hath bled for her. O Ghost -of the Morning, know you what Eleanore, our -lady, thinks of me, the fool? And yet, yet -I do so deeply pity her—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Thou pityest me, David?” echoed Eleanore, -advancing till she stood before him, forgetful -of how her appearance must startle him.</p> - -<p class='c014'>David looked up at her, winking slowly, -like one that would bring himself out of a -dream-world into reality. “Lady of Twilight, -thou’rt a woman, lonely and mournful, -forsaken of thy children. Therefore I grieve -for thee,” he said slowly, gazing at her with -his big eyes, but not rising from where he sat.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“A woman,” said Eleanore, looking at him -with a half-smile, and echoing his tone,—“a -woman doubtless is always to be pitied; and -yet what man deems it so? Master David, -ye are all born of women, and ye are all reared -by them. Afterwards, in youth, ye wed, use -us as your playthings for an hour, and then -leave us in your gray dwellings, while ye fare -forth to more manly sports and exploits. -There in solitude we bear and rear again, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>later our maidens wed and our sons depart -from us, and for the last time, in our age, we -are left alone to die. Truly, David, thou -mayest well pity!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>David’s wide mouth curved in a bitter smile.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Even so, Madame Eleanore. And now, -for fifteen years, I have lived as a woman lives. -Mayhap by now I know her life better than -other men—if, indeed, I am a man, being but -little taller than the animals. And all these -things said I to my dead friend here in my -hand.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“’Tis now fifteen years since thou camest -with my lord to Crépuscule?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Ay, fifteen. I was then a boy of about -such age. Fifteen years in Le Crépuscule by -the sea! It is a lifetime.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Madame sighed. Then her face brightened -again as she looked down at the dwarf. “What -was the life of thy youth, David? ’Tis a tale -I have never heard.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“’Tis but a little tale. Like my dead -butterfly, I wandered. I come of a race of -dwarfs,—all straight-backed, know you, and -not ill to look upon. My father was a -mountebank. My mother, who measured -<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>greater than was customary among us, cooked -and sewed and travelled with us whithersoever -we went in our wagon. When I was young,—at -the age of five or thereabouts,—I began -to assist my father in his entertainments. -When I was fifteen we were in Rennes for -the jousting season, and there thy lord saw -me, bought me, and brought me back to you, -lady, to be your merry jester. But indeed my -laughter hath run low, of late. Long years I -have bravely jested through; but now the Twilight -spell is creeping over me, and merriment -rises no more in my heart. Indeed, I question -if I should not beg leave of thee to go forth -into the world again for a little time, to learn -once more the song of joy. Yet when thou -art near, and I look out upon the sea, and -behold the sun lifting his glory out of the -eastern hills, I ever think I cannot go,—I -cannot leave this gentle home of melancholy.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Thou art free, David, if freedom is mine -to bestow upon thee. Indeed, I could not -ask that any one remain in this sad and quiet -place, of any than his own will. Go thou -forth into the world! Go forth to joy and -life and laughter. Fill thy little heart again -<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>with jests. Forget the brooding silence of -Le Crépuscule, and laugh through the broad -world to thy heart’s content. Yet we shall -miss thee sorely, little man.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Madame stopped speaking, and there was -a pause. David seemed to have no response -to make to her words. Instead he bent over -the earth, digging a little hole in the sod. -Into this he laid the dead form of his white -butterfly. When he had covered it from -sight with the black earth, and patted a little -earthen mound over it, he rose to his feet -with an exaggerated sigh.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“So I bury my friend—and my freedom. -My desire is dead, Madame Eleanore, with -my freedom. I will remain here among you -women-folk, and keep you sad company or -merry as you demand. Look! The rim of -the sun is pushing over the line of the distant -trees!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Yea, it is there—far away—in the land -where Laure may be, deserted, mayhap, and -a wanderer, cast out from every dwelling that -she enters!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore whispered these words, more to -herself than to David. They were an expression -<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>of her eternal thought. The dwarf -heard them, and sought some comfort for -her. But her expression forbade comfort; -and, in the end, he did not speak at all. -The two of them stood side by side and -watched the sun come up the heavens. Presently -the Castle awoke, and shortly Alixe came -out to the field to feed the young <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">niais</span></i> and -the mother-birds in the falcon-nests. So Eleanore, -when she had given the young girl greeting, -returned to her solitude in the Castle, -finding her heart in some part relieved of its -immediate burden.</p> - -<p class='c014'>One by one the lengthening days passed. -June came into the world, and palpitated, and -glowed with glory and fire, and then died. -During this time not a word had come from -distant Rennes to tell the Lady of Crépuscule -how Gerault fared. The midsummer month -came in, and the young men and maidens of -the Castle grew gay with the heat, and made -riotous expenditure of the riches of Nature. -That year the whole earth seemed a tangle -of flowers and rich meadow-grass, with which -young demoiselles played havoc, while the -squires and henchmen hawked and hunted and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>drank deep. These days stirred Eleanore’s -heart once more to love of life, and woke -the sleeping soul of Alixe to strange fits of -passionate yearning after unattainable ideals. -The living earth brought fire to every soul, -and the pinched melancholy of winter was -dead and forgotten.</p> - -<p class='c014'>On the night of the seventh of July the -Castle sat unusually late at meat, for the -Bishop had arrived unexpectedly, and, being -in a merry mood, deigned to entertain the -whole Castle with tales and jests. Just in -the middle of a story of Church militant in -the war of the three Jeannes, there came the -grating noise of the lowering drawbridge, a -faint echo of shouts from the men-at-arms in -the watch-tower, and the clatter of swift hoofs -over the courtyard stones. Half a dozen -henchmen ran to open the great door, while -Eleanore rose with difficulty to her feet. Her -heart had suddenly come into her throat, and -she had turned deathly white with an unexpressed -hope and an inarticulate fear. There -was a little pause. The new-comer was dismounting. -Then, after what had seemed a -year of waiting, Courtoise walked into the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>hall, advanced to his liege lady, and bent -the knee.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Courtoise!” gasped Eleanore, faintly. -“Courtoise—thy message!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Madame,” he cried, “I bring joyful tidings -from my lord! He sends thee health, -greeting, and duty, and prays you to prepare -the Castle for a great feast; for in a -week’s time he brings home his bride from -Rennes!”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'><em>CHAPTER SIX</em><br /> <span class='large'>A LOVE-STRAIN</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='c013'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_168.jpg' width='100' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> -Late that night, when the -little throng below had been -as nearly satisfied with information -concerning the great -event as three poor hours of -steady talking from Courtoise -could make them, Eleanore sat in her own -room alone with the messenger, there to learn -those intimate details of Gerault’s wooing, -that none but her had right to know. She -questioned Courtoise eagerly, earnestly, repeatedly, -with such yearning in her eyes that -the young squire’s heart smote him to see what -her loneliness had been.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Tell me again, Courtoise, yet once again! -She is fair, this maid?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“As fair as a rose, madame; her skin composed -of pink and white, so cunningly mingled -<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>that none can judge which hath most play -upon it. And her eyes are blue like a midsummer -sky; and she hath clouds of hair that -glisten like meshes of sun-threads, crowning -her.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“And she is small and delicately formed?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“She is slender and fragile; yet is she in no -way sickly of body.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“And her name,” went on madame, musingly, -“is Lenore! Is that not a strange thing, -Courtoise? Is’t not strange that a second -time this name should have entered so deeply -into the life of thy lord? Was he glad that -it so chanced, Courtoise; or did he hesitate to -pronounce it again?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I know not if it troubled him at first, -madame. But this I know: that he is happy -in her.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Then the dear God be thanked! I ask no -more. Ah! It seems that at last I can pray -again with an open heart. ’Twill be the first -time since—since—” Suddenly Eleanore began -to tremble. “Courtoise,” she whispered, -pale with dread, “hath thy lord heard—of—of -Laure’s flight?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Courtoise bent his head, answering in a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>strained voice: “My lord had news of—of -the flight late in the month of March. Monseigneur -de St. Nazaire sent us the word of it, -and for many weeks my lord hunted the country -over for a trace of her. And when he -found her not, nor any word of her, he forbore, -in his grief, to write to thee, dear lady, -lest he should cause thy tears to flow again.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I thank the good God that he knows!” -murmured Eleanore. “It had been more than -I could bear that Gerault should come home -to find his wedding feast blackened with a new-learned -shame.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Yea, Lady Eleanore.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“And so now, Courtoise, go thou to thy -rest; for I have kept thee long, and thou’rt -very weary. And on the morrow there must -be a beginning of making the Castle bravely -gay for the home-coming of its lord and its -bride. Likewise, on the morrow thou must -tell me more of the young Lenore, my daughter.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Courtoise smiled wearily, and then, with -proper obeisance, hurried off to his own room, -a little triangular closet opening into Gerault’s -old bedroom on the first floor. When the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>squire was gone, his liege lady also laid her -down; and for the first time in many months -sank easily to sleep. For happiness is the best -of doctors, and this that had come to her was -a greater happiness than Eleanore had thought -ever to know again.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Through the next week the very dogs about -the Castle caught the air of bustle and eager -life that had laid hold of it. Never, since -the days of the old lord and his crews of drinking -barons, had Le Crépuscule shown such -symptoms of gayety. Every scullion scampered -about his pots and kettles as if an army -of Brittany depended on him for nourishment. -The henchmen hurried about, polishing their -armor and their steel trappings till the keep -glittered as with many mirrors, and they broke -off from this labor now and then to see that -the stable-boys were at work on the proper -horses or to dissolve into thunderous roars -of laughter at a neighbor’s jest. The young -demoiselles were giddy with excitement. They -pricked their fingers with spindles, they broke -innumerable threads on the wheels, they stopped -the loom to dance or sing in the middle of the -morning; and while they were arranging the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>rooms where the train of the young bride were -to lodge, they gossiped so ardently over possible -future gayeties that their very tongues were -like to drop off with weariness. As for the -squires, all five of them, headed by Courtoise, -were to ride out to Croitôt on the Rennes -road, as an additional escort for Seigneur -Gerault. And the parade they made over this -matter was more than Montfort had for his -coronation at Rennes when the great war ended.</p> - -<p class='c014'>There were, however, three silent workers -in the Castle who did more than all the rest -together; and they were silent only because -their hearts were too full for speech. These -were madame, Alixe, and David the dwarf. -While the little man worked at the decoration -of the chapel, the women adorned the bridal -chamber; and in all that week of preparation, -not a soul save these two set foot over that -sacred threshold. Madame had selected the -room. It was not Gerault’s usual chamber, but -one on the second floor, on the northwest corner -of the Castle, separated from madame’s -room only by the place in which Laure had -slept of old, and which madame now kept -closed to all save herself.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>For the adornment of Gerault’s and Lenore’s -apartment, madame brought out the old historic -tapestries, embroideries, and precious silken -hangings that had been for years stowed away -in great chests in the spinning-room. The -bed was hung with curtains in which were -woven illustrations of the “Romant of the -Rose,” a poem that had once been much recited -in Le Crépuscule. On the walls were -great squares of tapestry representing the -battles of the family of Montfort. On the -floor were two or three strips of precious -brocade, brought out of the East a century -before by some crusading lord. Finished, the -room looked very rich, but very sombre; and, -this being the fashion of the times, it was satisfactory -to all that saw it. Eleanore only, with -eyes new-opened by the thought of approaching -happiness, feared the room a little dark, -a little heavy for the reception of so delicate -a creature as the young Lenore. But every -one else in the Castle was in such delight over -its appearance that she left it as it was. Meantime -the lower hall was hung with banners and -scarred pennants and gay streamers; and then -the pillars were wreathed with greenery and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>flowers till the still, gray place was all transformed, -and resembled a triumphal hall awaiting -the coming of a conqueror.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Thus the week of waiting passed merrily and -rapidly away, and the day of the departure of -Courtoise and the squires for Croitôt speedily -arrived. With them also went a picked half-dozen -men-at-arms, who were bursting with -pride at this honor done their brilliant steel -and smooth-flanked horses. After their going, -when everything in the Castle was in readiness -for the reception, a little wave of reaction set -in among those left at home. Eleanore retired -to commune with her own happy mind. -David sought solitude in which to arrange a -programme of welcome. And Alixe, seized -with a sudden mood of misery, fled away to -a certain cave in the base of the Castle cliff, -and here wept and raged by herself, for some -undefined reason, till her tears cleared the -mists from her soul, and she was herself again. -Still, as she returned to the Castle, she knew -that there remained a bitterness in her heart. -Eleanore, who had long ago come to mean -mother to her, had, in the last month or two, -for the first time given her almost a mother-love, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>that had fed Alixe’s hungry heart as the -body of the Lord had never fed her soul. -And now this love was to be taken away -again. A real daughter was coming into the -household, a daughter by the marriage of the -Seigneur; and this, Alixe knew, must be a -closer tie than any of time or custom. She -must go back to her old place, the place she -had held in the days of Laure; but she could -never hope to find in the stranger the beautiful -friendship that had existed between her and -her foster-sister.</p> - -<p class='c014'>That evening was a quiet one in the Castle. -Monseigneur of St. Nazaire had arrived in the -afternoon; but he seemed wearier than his -wont, and, out of consideration for him, Eleanore -ordered the general retirement at an early -hour.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The next day, the great day, dawned over -Le Crépuscule, red and clear and intensely hot. -Every one was up before the sun; and when -fast had been broken and prayer said in the -chapel, every one went forth to the meadow, -some even down to the moor, half a mile -below the moat, to gather flowers to be scattered -in the courtyard for the coming of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>bride. The party was expected to arrive by -noon at latest; and, as the morning waned, -Eleanore found herself uncontrollably nervous. -Alixe and David both stood in the watch-tower, -looking for the first sign of horses and banners -on the edge of the forest at the foot of the long -hill. Noon passed, and the earliest hour of -afternoon, and the Castle was on tiptoe with -excitement. At two o’clock came a cry from -Alixe, in the tower. Down the hill, round the -sweep in the road, was the flutter of a blue and -white pennant, presently flanked by a longer -one of gray. There was a pause of two or -three moments. Then the trumpeters dashed -out from the keep, ranged up before their captain, -and blew a quick, triumphal, if somewhat -jerky, fanfare. There was an outpouring of -retainers into the courtyard, and presently, -from far away, came the faint sounds of an -answering blast from Gerault’s heralds. As -this died away, a great shout of excitement and -delight arose from the waiting company, now -massed about the flower-strewn drawbridge, -and only at this time Madame Eleanore came -out of the Castle.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Many eyes were turned upon her as she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>crossed the courtyard, bearing herself as royally -as a princess. She was garbed in flowing -robes of damask, white, and olive green, silver-studded, -and her head was dressed in those -great horns so much in fashion at this time, -but seldom affected by her, and now lending -an unrivalled majesty to her appearance.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Madame took her place at the right of the -drawbridge, and, like all the throng, strained -her eyes toward the approaching cavalcade -that contained the future of Le Crépuscule. -Apparently madame was very calm. In reality -her heart beat so that it was like to suffocate -her, for now Gerault’s form took on distinct -shape before her eyes. The sun shot serpents -of light around his helmet and his steel-encased -arms, while over his body-pieces he -wore the silken surcoat of pale gray, embroidered -with the arms of his Castle. Gerault’s -lance, held in rest, fluttered a pennant of azure -and white, the colors of his lady; and Courtoise, -who rode just behind his master, carried -the gray streamer of Le Crépuscule.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Amid a tumult of blaring trumpets, vigorous -shouting, and eager choruses of welcome and -greeting, the Lord of Crépuscule, with his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>bride on her white palfrey beside him, rode -across the drawbridge of the Twilight Castle. -Just inside the courtyard Gerault halted, leaped -from his horse, and ran quickly to embrace his -mother. When he had held her for a moment -in his arms, he turned, lifted his lady from her -horse, and, amid an embarrassing silence of -curiosity, led the young girl up to madame.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“In the name of Le Crépuscule and of its -lord, I bid thee welcome to this Castle, my -daughter! Good people, give greeting to your -lady!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Men and maidens, serving-maids and henchmen, -still gazing wide-eyed at the figure of the -Seigneur’s wife, sent forth an inarticulate buzz -of welcome and of admiration; and, when it had -died away, Gerault took his bride by the hand, -and, with Eleanore upon the other side, moved -slowly across the courtyard toward the Castle -doorway, where now stood the Bishop of St. -Nazaire, waiting to add his welcome to the -newly wed. Nor did the Bishop refrain from -a little exclamation of pleasure at sight of the -young wife, as she sank upon her knees before -his mitre, to receive a blessing.</p> - -<p class='c014'>A few moments later the whole company -<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>crowded into the brilliantly decorated hall and -moved about, each selecting a desired place at -the great horseshoe table ready prepared for -the feast. Gerault was standing in the middle -of the room, looking about him in surprise -and pleasure at the preparations made to do -him honor. Presently, however, he turned to -his mother, who stood close at his elbow, and -said, after a second’s hesitation: “I do not -see Alixe, madame. Is she not here in the -Castle?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore looked about her in some surprise. -“Hast not seen her? Where hath she been? -Ah, yes, there she stands, in yonder corner. -Alixe! Hither!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Alixe!” echoed Gerault; and strode to -where she stood, half concealed, between the -staircase and the chapel door, her head drooping, -her eyes cast down.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Come, Alixe, and greet Lenore. She hath -heard much of thee, and I would have you -friends, for you are both young, and you must -be good companions here together.” So he -took her hand and kissed her, and led her out -to where Eleanore and the young wife stood -waiting.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>“Lenore, this is my foster-sister. La Rieuse -have we called her, and she is well named. -Give her greeting—” Gerault came to rather -a halting pause; for the attitude of the two -women nonplussed him.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Lenore stood motionless, suddenly putting -on a little dress of dignity, and looking steadfastly -into the dark face of the other girl. -Alixe, anything but laughing now, was absorbing, -detail by detail, the delicate and exquisite -personality of Gerault’s bride. More fairy-like -than human she seemed, with her slender, -beautifully curved child’s figure, her face neither -white nor pink, but of a transparent, pearly -tint indescribably ethereal, in which were set -great eyes of violet hue, and all around which -floated her hair,—that wonderful hair that was, -indeed, a captive sun-ray. The curve of Lenore’s -lips, the turn of her nostril, the poise of -her head, and the delicacy of her hands and -feet, all proclaimed her noble birth. The dress -that she wore set off her beauty as pure gold -makes a gem more brilliant. She wore a loosely -fitting bliault of greenish blue, embroidered in -long, silver vines, while her undersleeves and -yoke were of frosty cloth of silver. Her head -<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>was crowned with a simple circlet of gold, far -less lustrous than her hair; and from it, at the -back, fell a veil of silver tissue that touched -the hem of her robe. All this dress was disordered -and dusty with long riding; but the -carelessness of it seemed to become her the -better. In the rich heat of the July sun she -had seemed a little too colorless, a little too -pale and misty, for beauty; but here, in the -cool shadows of the great stone hall, she was -brighter than any angel.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe examined her long and carefully, to the -confusion of the girl, whose feeling of strangeness -and embarrassment continually increased. -In the face of “La Rieuse” it was easy to read -the struggle between jealousy and admiration. -Alixe was, secretly, a worshipper of beauty; -and beauty such as this of Lenore’s she had -never seen before. In the end it triumphed. -Alixe’s eyes grew brighter and brighter as she -gazed; and presently, when the strain of silence -was not much longer to be endured, there burst -from her the involuntary exclamation,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“God of dreams! How art thou fair!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>And from that moment the allegiance of -Alixe was fixed. She was on her knees to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>Lenore, this fair usurper of her place, this -Gerault’s bride.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Presently the moving company resolved itself -into order, and each sought his place at the -table, where the Seigneur and St. Nazaire now -stood side by side, at the head, with Lenore -upon Gerault’s left hand, madame on St. -Nazaire’s right, and Alixe next madame and -opposite Courtoise, who was placed beside the -bride. There was a long Latin grace from the -Bishop, and then the feast began. It was like -all the feasts of the day, a matter of stuffing till -one could hold no more, and then of drinking -till one knew no more; for, to the commoner -folk, and those below the salt, this was the -greatest pleasure in life. To those for whom -the feast was given, and to the rest of the little -group at the head of the table, the whole business -was sufficiently tedious: not to say, however, -that monseigneur and even Gerault -showed no symptoms of fondness for a morsel -of peacock’s breast, or a calf’s head stuffed -with the brains, pounded suet, and raisins, over -which was poured a good brown gravy. Courtoise -and Alixe also displayed healthy appetites. -But madame and Lenore, whether from -<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>excitement or other causes, sat for the most -part playing with what was put before them, -and eating nothing.</p> - -<p class='c014'>After half an hour at the table Madame -Eleanore found herself watching, with rather -unexpected interest, the attitude of Gerault -toward his wife. And she perceived, with a -kind of dull surprise, that his attentions -savored of perfunctoriness. The Seigneur -failed in no way to do his lady courtesy; but -that air of tender delight that the personality -of the young girl would be expected to draw -from a young husband, was not there. Whatever -impression of indifference madame received, -however, she admitted no such thing -to herself. Her heart was too full of joy for -Gerault, and for Le Crépuscule. For, great as -had been her hopes of her son’s choice, her -dreams had never pictured a being so rare -and so lovely as this who was come to dwell -at her side in the gray and ancient Castle.</p> - -<p class='c014'>As for Lenore herself, she seemed to see -nothing but devotion in Gerault’s attitude -toward her. She sat with a smile upon her -face, playing daintily with what she had to -eat, answering any question or remark put -<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>to her with a straightforwardness that had in -it no taint of self-consciousness, even addressing -a sentence or two of her own to Courtoise -on her right; but at the same time holding -all heart and soul for Gerault. The Seigneur -did not speak much with his wife, but answered -her modest glances with an air of mild indulgence, -taking small notice of anything that -went on round him save the keen looks now -and then shot from the scintillating green eyes -of Alixe. Of all the tableful, Alixe was the -only one that found any food for thought -in the situation before her; and, surprisingly -enough, the key to her reflections lay in the -curious behavior of Courtoise, who, as time -went on, became so uneasy, so fidgety, so restless, -that Gerault finally leaned over the table -and asked him rather sharply if he were ill.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In the course of time, however, the last jack -was emptied, the last song sung, the last -questionable story told. Monseigneur de St. -Nazaire rose and repeated the ending grace, -and then the whole drowsy, witless company -followed him into the glowing chapel, where -a short mass was performed. Lenore and -Gerault knelt side by side to the right of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>altar, with Eleanore a little behind them, where -she could watch the bright candle-rays vie -with the radiance of Lenore’s golden hair, -and see where the silvery bridal robe overlapped -a little the edge of the gray surcoat of -Le Crépuscule, that swept the floor beside it. -The mother-eyes were all for the girlish form -of the new daughter; and her heart went out -again to Gerault, who had brought this fairy -creature to Le Crépuscule, in place of her who -had been so terribly mourned.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Lenore listened to the repetition of the -mass with a reverent air, but without much -thinking of the familiar form. Her mind was -busy with thoughts of these new surroundings -and the faces of the new vassals and -companions. Gerault, her beloved, was at -her side; the great silver crucifix that hung -over the altar gave her a sense of comfort and -protection, and she found a restful pleasure in -the tones of the Bishop’s voice. The bright -candle-light that shone into her eyes produced -in her a semi-hypnotic state, and she seemed -to have knelt there at the altar but three or -four minutes when the words of the benediction -fell upon her ears, and presently the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>whole company was trooping out into the -great hall, whence all signs of the feast had -been removed.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In the same dreamlike way, Lenore went -with her husband and madame upstairs, to -the room that had been prepared for her and -Gerault. Here her two demoiselles were already -unpacking the coffer which had come -from Rennes with them. And here she removed -her travel-stained garments, bathed the -dust from her face and arms, was combed and -perfumed like the great lady she had become, -and lay down to rest for a little time in the -twilight, with new ministers to her comfort all -about her. Later, as it grew dark, she dressed -again and descended to the great hall, where -further merriment was in progress.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The demoiselles and squires of the Castle -were now holding high revel, and their games -caused the old stone walls to echo with laughter -and shrieks of delight. In one corner of -the room madame and the Bishop sat together -over a game of chess. Gerault was near them, -where he could watch the battle; but his eyes -were often to be seen following the light figure -of Lenore through the mazes of the dances and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>games in which she so eagerly joined. The -sports in which these maidens and young men -grown indulged, were commonly played by -older folk throughout France, and have descended -almost intact to the children of a more -advanced and less light-hearted age. Lenore -entered into the play with a pleasure too unconscious -not to be genuine. She laughed and -sang and chattered, and put herself at home -with every one. She was soon the leading -spirit of the company, as she had been wont -to be in her own home. The games were innumerable: -<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Pantouffle</span></i>, <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Pince-Mérille</span></i>, <em>Bric</em>, <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Qui -Féry</span></i>, <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Le Roi qui ne Ment pas</span></i>, and a dozen -others. And were there a forfeit to be paid -in the shape of a kiss, she instantly deserted -Courtoise and David, who, enraptured with -her youth and gayety, kept close on either -side of her, and delivered it with shy delight -to Gerault, who scarcely appeared to appreciate -the gifts he got.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In the course of time a “Ribbon Dance” -was ordered, and madame and monseigneur -actually left their game to lead it, drawing -Gerault with them into the sport. Obediently -he gave one hand to Lenore, the other -<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>to Alixe, and went through the dance with -apathetic grace, bringing by his half unconscious -manner the first chill upon Lenore’s -happy evening. This was, however, the end -of the amusement; and when the flushed and -panting company finally halted, Gerault at once -drew his wife to madame’s side, himself saluted -his mother, and then followed Lenore up the -torchlit stairs. In ten minutes the whole -company had dispersed, and Eleanore remained -alone in the great hall.</p> - -<p class='c014'>When she had extinguished all the lights -below, madame passed up the stairs, putting -out the smoking torches as she went, and, -reaching the upper hall, went immediately to -her own bedroom. Here she slipped off the -heavy mantle and the modified “cote-hardi.” -Then, clad only in a long, light, damask tunic, -she went over to one of the wide-open west -windows, and, leaning across its sill, looked -out upon the vasty, murmurous, summer sea. -Low on the horizon, among a group of faint -clustering stars, swung the crescent moon, which -was reflected in the smooth surface of a distant -wave. A great, fresh, salt breath came up like -a tonic through the wilted air. The voice of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>the sea was infinitely soothing. Eleanore listened -to it eagerly, her lips parted, her eyes -wandering along that distant wave-line; her -thoughts almost as far away. Presently the -door of her room opened, softly; and some -one paused upon the threshold. Instinctively -she knew who it was that entered. Half turning, -she said gently,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Thou’rt come here, Gerault?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Her son came forward slowly, halted a few -steps away, and held out one hand to her. -She went to him and took it, wondering a -little at his manner, but not questioning him. -Quietly she drew the young man to the -window where she had been; and both stood -there and looked out upon the scene. They -were silent for a long time. It was intensely -difficult for Gerault to speak; and madame -knew not how to help him. At length, in a -voice that sounded slightly strained, he asked: -“Thou’rt pleased with her? Thou’rt satisfied, -my mother?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Oh, Gerault! Gerault! She is so fair, so -delicate, so like some faery child! I almost -fear to see her beauty fade in the shadow -of these gray walls.”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>“And will she—Lenore—help thee, in -a way, to forget thy grief in Laure?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore gave a sudden, involuntary sob; -for none had pronounced that name to her -since the early spring. The sob was answer -enough to Gerault’s question. But in a -moment she said, in a voice that was perfectly -controlled: “Methinks I love her, thy -lady, already. Ah, my son, she is very sweet! -Very, very sweet and fair!”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'><em>CHAPTER SEVEN</em><br /> <span class='large'>THE LOST LENORE</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='c013'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_191.jpg' width='100' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> -When Gerault left her to go -to his mother’s room, on that -first evening in the Castle that -was to be her home, Lenore -was still fully dressed. As -soon as she was alone, however, -she made herself ready for the night; and -then, wrapping herself about in her long day-mantle, -went to a window overlooking the sea, -and sat there waiting for her lord’s return. -Now that the excitement of the day, of the -arrival, of meeting so many new people, all -eager to make her welcome, was over, Lenore -began to feel herself very weary, a little homesick, -a little wistful, and tremulously eager for -Gerault’s speedy return. She clung to the -thought of him and her newly risen love, with -pathetic anxiety. Was it not lawful and right -<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>that she should love him? Was it not equally -lawful and therefore equally certain that he -must love her? She knew little enough of -love and of men, young Lenore; yet this idea -came to her instinctively, and it seemed impossible -that it could be otherwise. It was so -recently that she had been a little girl in all -her thoughts and pleasures and habits, that -this sudden transition to the dignified estate -of wifehood had left her singularly helpless, -singularly dependent on the man whom she -had married out of duty and fallen in love -with afterwards, on the way from Rennes. -Gerault helped her, in his way. He was -kind, he was gentle, was solicitous for her -comfort, and required of her nothing but a -quiet demeanor. But that he failed in some -way to give her what was her due, the young -girl rather felt than knew.</p> - -<p class='c014'>While she waited here alone, looking out -upon the lonely sea, that was so new and -so wonderful a sight to her, the Lady Lenore -bitterly regretted and took herself to task for -her gayety of the evening. The silly games -that she had once so loved to play—alas! -he had not joined in them, doubtless thought -<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>them trivial and unbecoming in a woman -grown and married! She had made herself -a fool before him! He was older than she, -and wiser, and a gallant knight. Lenore’s -cheeks flushed with pride as she remembered -how he could joust and tilt at the ring. She -remembered when she had first seen him, -from the gallery of the list at Rennes, when -he unseated the Seigneur Geoffrey Cartel. -This lordly sport was as simple to him as -her games to her. Little wonder that she -had exhausted his patience! And yet—if -he would but come to her now! She was -so sadly weary; and it grew so late. Her -little body ached, her temples throbbed, her -eyes burned with the past glare of the sun -on the white dust, and the recent flickering -light of the torches. If he would but come -back, and forgive her her childishness, and -kiss her before she slept, she would be very -happy.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In point of fact Gerault did come soon. -Knowing that Lenore must be weary, he remained -but a short time with his mother, -and returned immediately to his wife. The -moment that he entered the room, Lenore -<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>rose from her place, and ran to him with a -faint cry of delight.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“At last thou art come! Thou art come!” -she said indistinctly, not wanting him to hear -the words, yet unable to keep from saying -them.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“And didst thou sit up for me, child, and -thou so weary? I went but to give my mother -good-night, for thou knowest ’tis long since I -saw her last. She sent thee her blessing and -sweet rest; and my wish is fellow to hers. -Come now, child.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Gerault lifted her up in his arms, and, carrying -her to the bed, laid her down in it, mantle -and all. In the carrying, Lenore had leaned -her head upon his shoulder, and her two tired -arms folded themselves around his neck. How -it was that Gerault felt no thrill at this touch; -that it was almost a relief to him when the -hold loosened; and how, though he slept at -her side that night, his dreams, freer replica -of his day-thoughts, were filled with vague -trouble, he himself could scarce have told; -and yet it was so.</p> - -<div id='i_195' class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i_195.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic006'> -<p><em><span class='c016'>O</span>nly one among them seemed<br />not of their mood.—Page <a href='#Page_31'>31</a></em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>Next morning, however, Gerault watched her -waken, looking as rosy and fresh as a child, -and smiling a child’s delighted welcome at the -new day. Unquestionably she was a pleasure -to him at such times. Before her marriage he -had liked, in thinking of her, to accentuate her -fairy-like ways, because through them he had -brought himself to marry her. And now his -treatment of her resembled most, perhaps, the -treatment of something very fine and fair, -something very rare and delicate and generally -to be prized, but not really belonging to him, -not essentially valued by him, or near at all to -his human heart.</p> - -<p class='c014'>When they were ready for the day, the two -of them, Lenore and Gerault, did not linger -together in their room, but descended immediately -to the chapel, where morning prayers -were just beginning. Every eye was turned -upon them as they entered the holy room; -and it was as sunshine greeting sunshine when -Lenore faced the open window, through which -poured the golden light of July. Madame’s -heart swelled and beat fast, and that of Alixe -all but stopped, as each beheld the morning’s -bride; and they perceived, with a kind of dull -surprise, that Gerault’s face was as dark-browed, -as reserved, as melancholy as ever. It seemed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>impossible that he should not be moved to -new life by the presence and possession of so -fair a thing as this Lenore. Yet when the -devotions were at an end, and the Castle household -rose and moved out to where the tables -were spread for the breaking of the fast, no one -noted how the young girl’s blue eyes glanced -once or twice a little wistfully, a little forlornly, -up into the unmoved face of her husband, and -that she got therefrom no answering smile.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In celebration of the Seigneur’s wedding, a -week’s holiday had been declared for every -one in the Castle; and so, when the first meal -of the day was at an end, the demoiselles, in -high glee at escaping from the morning’s toil -in the hot spinning-room, gayly proposed to -their attendant squires that they repair at once -to the open meadows, where there was glorious -opportunity for games and caroles. Lenore’s -eyes lighted with pleasure at this proposal; but -she looked instinctively at Gerault, to see if -his face approved the plan. She found his -eyes upon her; and, as he caught her glance, -he motioned her to his side, and drew her -with him a little apart from the general group. -Then he said to her kindly,—</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>“Beloved, I shall see thee at noon meat. -Courtoise and I go forth this morning together -to try two of the new falcons that Alixe -hath trained. Thou’lt fare gently here with all -the demoiselles and the young squires; and -see that thou weary not thyself at play in the -heat. Till noon, my little one!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>He bent and touched his lips to her hair,—that -sunlit hair,—and then, as he strode away, -followed, but half willingly, by Courtoise, Lenore’s -head bent forward, and her eyes, that -for one instant had brimmed full, were shut -tight till the unbidden drops went back again. -When she looked up once more, Alixe was at -her side, and the expression on the face of -La Rieuse was full of unlooked-for tenderness. -Lenore, however, was too proud for pity, and -in a moment she smiled, and said bravely:</p> - -<p class='c014'>“My lord is going a-hawking with his -squire. Shall we to the fields? Said they not -that we should go to weave garlands in the -fields?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Yes! To the fields! To the fields! Hola, -David! We are commanded to the fields by -our Queen of Delight!” called Alixe, loudly, -waving her hands above her head, and striving -<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>in every way to gain the attention of the company. -But in spite of her efforts, Gerault’s -departure was seen, and there was a general -outcry of protest, which did not, however, reach -the ears of the Seigneur. Then Lenore was -forced to bear the comments of the company: -their loudly expressed disappointment, and the -unspoken but infinitely more painful astonishment -plainly indicated in every glance. Nevertheless -the young girl had in her the instincts -of a fine race, and she bore everything with a -heroic unconcern that won Alixe’s admiration, -and so far deceived the thoughtless throng as -to bring her a new accusation of indifference to -Gerault’s absence.</p> - -<p class='c014'>To the girl-bride that morning passed—somehow. -It was perhaps the bitterest three -hours she had ever endured; yet she would -not confess her disappointment even to herself. -Besides, was not Gerault coming home again? -Had he not said that he would be back at noon? -Had he not called her “beloved”? Her heart -thrilled at the thought; and she forgot the -fact that Gerault knew that she could ride with -hawk on wrist and tell a fair quarry when she -saw it. She forgot that at such times as this -<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>even hawking will generally give way to love; -and that he is a sorry bridegroom that loves -his horse better than his bride. Yet she forgave -him for the time, and regained her smiles -until the shadow of a new dread fell upon her. -She could endure the morning; but the afternoon? -Would he remain with her through -the afternoon? Alas, here was the terrible -pity of it! She could not tell.</p> - -<p class='c014'>However, this last dread proved to be -groundless. Gerault made no move to leave -the Castle again that day. Perhaps he even felt -a little guilty of neglect; or perhaps her greeting -on his return betrayed to him how she had -suffered through the morning. However it -was, as soon as the long dinner was at an end, -the Seigneur and his lady were observed to -wander away into the armory, and they sat -there together, on the same settle, until the -shadows grew long in the courtyard and the -afternoon was nearly worn away. What they -said to one another, or how Gerault entertained -his maid, no one knew; for, oddly enough, -Courtoise had put himself on guard at the -armory door, and would permit none to venture -so much as a peep into the room on which his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>own back was religiously turned. So for that -afternoon demoiselles and squires chose King -and Queen of their revels from among their -own number, and perhaps enjoyed their games -the better for that fact.</p> - -<p class='c014'>When the sun was leaning far toward the -broad breast of the sea, all the Castle, mindful -of their souls, repaired to the chapel for vespers, -a service held only when the Bishop -was at Le Crépuscule. Gerault and Lenore -were the last to appear, and while the Seigneur’s -expression was rather thoughtful than -happy, it had in it, nevertheless, a suggestion -of Lenore’s repressed joy, so that madame, -seeing him, was satisfied for the first time since -his home-coming.</p> - -<p class='c014'>But alas for the thoughts and hopes that -this afternoon had raised in the observing ones -of Le Crépuscule, Lenore and her husband -were not seen again to spend a single hour -alone together. Gerault remained for the most -part with the general company of the Castle, -not seeking to escape to solitude with Courtoise, -but holding his lady from him at arm’s -length. His attitude toward her was uneasy. -He did not avoid her, but, were they -<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>by chance left alone together for ten minutes, -his manner changed till it was like that -of a man guilty of some dishonorable thing. -Oftentimes, when they were with a number -of others, Gerault would be seen to -watch Lenore closely, and his eyes would light -with momentary pleasure at some one of -her unconscious graces. But the light never -stayed. Quickly his black brows would -darken, the shadows re-cover his face, and -he would be more unapproachable than -before.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In the course of a few days, Lenore began -to grow morbidly sensitive over her husband’s -attitude; and, out of sheer misery, she began -to avoid him persistently. This brought a -still more bitter blow to her, for she discovered -that he was glad to be avoided. Lenore was -desperate; but still she was brave, still she -held to herself; and if at times she sought -refuge with madame and Alixe, those two -kindly and pitying souls met her with outstretched -arms of silent sympathy, and never -betrayed to her by so much as a glance how -much they had observed of Gerault’s incomprehensible -neglect.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>The holiday week passed, and with its end -came a spirit of relief that it was over. Next -morning the usual occupations were begun, -and Lenore went up to the spinning-room with -the rest of the women. This work-room was -on the second floor, and ran almost the whole -length of the south side of the Castle: a long, -narrow room, with many windows looking out -upon the courtyard, and only a sideways view -of the hazy, turquoise sea. Here was every -known mechanical contrivance for the making -of cloth and tapestry, and their development -out of the raw wool. The loom, just now -half filled with a warp of pale green, stood at -the east end of the room; the fixed combs, -the half-dozen spinning-wheels, the tambour-frames -for embroidery, and the great tapestry-border -frame, were ranged in an orderly line -down the remaining length, and each of the -maidens had her particular task of the summer -in some stage of completion. Since Lenore’s -arrival a spinning-wheel had been set up here -for her, and she sat down to it at once, while -her demoiselles were directed by madame to -begin work on the tapestry border, at which -four could apply the needle at the same time. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>As the roomful settled quickly to work, -under the general guidance of madame, Lenore -began to tread her wheel and draw out thread -with a hand practised enough to win the approval -even of Eleanore. And as the morning -wore along, Lenore found herself unaccountably -soothed and comforted by her task and -the kindly atmosphere of perseverance and -attention to duty surrounding her.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Nevertheless, it was not a comfortable day -for such work. The heat was intense. Fingers -grew constantly damp with sweat. Thread -knotted and broke, silk drew, and little exclamations -of anger and disgust were frequently -to be heard. However, the labor was -continued as usual for three hours, till eleven -o’clock, the dinner hour, came, and the little -company willingly left the spinning-room to -another afternoon of silence, and went downstairs -to meat. At the foot of the stairs stood -Gerault, waiting for Lenore; and when she -reached him he kissed her upon the brow -before leading her to table. In that moment -the girl’s heart sang, and she felt that her -day had been fittingly crowned.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In the early afternoon Lenore found that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>there were new occupations for all the Castle. -The demoiselles were despatched to the long -room on the first floor, which, though not -dignified by the name of library, yet took -that place, for instruction in certain things, -mental and moral, by the friar-steward, Father -Anselm. The young men were at sword -practice in the keep. And Lenore, who could -write her name and read a little from parchment -manuscripts in both Latin and French, -and whose education was therefore finished, -was summoned by madame and taken over -the whole Castle, receiving, at various stages, -instruction in domestic duties and the management -of the great building. She saw everything, -from the linen-presses upstairs to the -wine-cellars underground; and everywhere the -hand of madame was visible in the scrupulous -exactness and neatness with which the Castle -was kept. Then in her heart Lenore determined -that in time she would learn madame’s -habits, and, if it could be done in no other -way, win Gerault’s respect by her abilities as a -housekeeper.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The hours of late afternoon and early evening -were devoted to recreation, which was entered -<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>into with new zest by every one. To be -sure, Gerault sat all evening with his mother, -playing draughts. But his eyes occasionally -strayed to the figure of his wife; and later, -when the Castle was still, and Lenore, in the -great curtained bed, was wandering on the -borderland of sleep, she felt that this day was -the happiest she had yet spent in Le Crépuscule; -and she knew in her heart that work and -work only could now bring her peace. And -thereafter, poor little dreamer, a smile hovered -upon her face as she slept!</p> - -<p class='c014'>On the tenth day of the new regime in Le -Crépuscule, squire Courtoise sat in the armory, -polishing the design engraved on his lord’s -breastplate. Courtoise was moody. Ordinarily -his cheerfulness in the face of insuperable -dulness was something to be proud of. But -latterly his faith, the one great faith in his -heart,—not religion, but utter devotion to -his lord—had been receiving a series of -shocks that had shaken it to its foundation. -Courtoise was by nature as gentle, genial, and -kindly a fellow as ever held a lance; and in -his heart he had for years blindly worshipped -Gerault. His creed of devotion, indeed, had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>embraced the whole family of Le Crépuscule, -because Gerault was its head. Till the time -of their last going to Rennes, there had been -for him no woman like madame, no such maid -as Laure, and no man anywhere comparable -to his master. Poor Laure had dealt him a -grievous blow when she followed Flammecœur -from the priory. But from the day of Gerault’s -betrothal to little Lenore, the daughter -of the Iron Chateau had held his heart in -her hand, and might have done with it as she -would. Loving the two of them as he did, -and seeing each day fresh proof of Lenore’s -affection for her lord and his, Courtoise naturally -looked for a fitting return of this from the -Seigneur. And here, all in a night, Courtoise’s -first great doubt had entered in. They had -been married three days, they were barely at Le -Crépuscule, before Courtoise saw what made -him sick with uneasiness. If the Seigneur had -wedded this exquisite maiden with the sunlit -hair, must he not love her? And yet—and -yet—and yet—Courtoise sat in the armory -and polished freely at the steel, and swore to -himself under his breath, recklessly incurring -whatever penance Anselm should see fit to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>give. For here it was mid-afternoon, and his -little lady just freed from her hours of toil; -and there was Gerault gone off by himself, -without even his squire, forsooth, to hawk with -the Iron-Beak over the moor!</p> - -<p class='c014'>Courtoise had been indulging himself in ire -for some time, when a shadow stole past the -doorway of the armory. He looked up. The -shadow had gone; but presently it returned -and halted: “Courtoise!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>The young fellow leaped to his feet, and -the breastplate clattered to the floor. Lenore, -looking very transparently pale, very humbly -wistful, and having just a suspicion of red -around her eyes, was regarding him tentatively -from the doorway.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Ma dame, what service dost thou ask?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“None, Courtoise,” the voice sounded rather -faint and tired. “None, save to tell me if -thou hast lately seen my lord.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>The expression on her face was so pathetic -that Courtoise was suddenly struck to the -heart, and he bit his tongue before he could -reply quietly enough: “Ma Dame Lenore, -Seigneur Gerault rode out long time since -a-hawking; and methinks he will shortly now -<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>return. The hour for evening meat approaches. -I—I—” he broke off, stammering; -and Lenore without speaking bowed her -head, and patiently turned away.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Courtoise sat down again when she left -him, and remained motionless, the steel on -his knees, his hands idle, staring into space. -Suddenly he leaped to his feet and hurled the -breastplate to the floor with a smothered oath. -“Gray of St. Gray!” he cried, “what devil -hath seized the man I loved? Gerault, my -lord, rides out and leaves this angel to weep -after him! Gray of St. Gray! what desires -he more fair than this his Lenore? What—what—what—” -the muttered words died into -thoughts as Courtoise clapped a cap on his -head and strode away from the armory and -out of the Castle.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In the courtyard the first object that met his -eyes was Gerault’s horse, standing in front of -the keep, with a stable-boy holding him by the -bridle. Gerault himself was in the doorway of -the empty falcon-house, holding a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">hagard</span></i> on -his wrist, while two dead pigeons swung from -his girdle.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Courtoise! Behold our spoils! Hath not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>Talon-Fer done Alixe’s training honor?” cried -Gerault, the note of pleasure keener than usual -in his voice.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Courtoise, flushed with rising anger, went -over to him. “My lord, the Lady Lenore -asks for thee!” he said a little hoarsely, paying -no attention to the dead pigeons or the -young falcon.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Gerault very slightly raised his brows, more -at Courtoise’s tone, perhaps, than at the words -he spoke. “The Lady Lenore,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Even so—the Lady Lenore—thy wife!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I understand thee, good Courtoise.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>The veins in the younger man’s neck and -temples stood out under the strain of repression. -“Comes my lord?” he asked slowly.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“In good time, Courtoise. The <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">hagard</span></i> -must be fed.” Gerault would have turned -away, but Courtoise, with a burst of irritation, -exclaimed,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I will feed the creature!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Now Gerault turned to him again: “Hast -thou some strange malady or frenzy, that -thou shouldst use such tones to me, boy?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Tones—tones, and yet again tones! Gerault—thou -churl! Ay, I that have been faithful -<span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>squire to thee these many years, I say it. -Thou churl and worse, to have wedded with -the sweetest lady ever sun shone upon, to bring -her, a stranger, home to thy Castle, and then -leave her there, day following day, while thou -ridest over the moors to dally with some bird! -All the Castle stares at the cruelty of thy neglect. -Daily the demoiselles whisper together, -wondering what distemper thy lady hath that -thou seest her not by day—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Hush, boy—hush! Thou’rt surely mad!” -cried out Gerault, with a note in his voice that -gave Courtoise pause.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Then there fell between them a silence, -heavy, and so binding that Courtoise could -not move. He stood staring into his master’s -face, watching the color grow from white to -red and back again, and the expression change -from angry amazement to something softer, -something strange, something that Courtoise -did not know in his lord’s face. And Gerault -gnawed his lip, and bent low his head, and -presently spoke, in a voice that was not his -own, but was rather curiously muffled and -unnatural.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Thou sayest well, Courtoise. ’Tis true I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>have neglected her, poor, frail, pretty child! -Ah! I had never thought how I have neglected -her”; and Gerault sat suddenly down upon -the step of the falcon-house and laid his head -in his hands, in an attitude of such dejection -that Courtoise experienced a swift rush of -repentance.</p> - -<p class='c014'>For some time there was again silence between -them. Courtoise, thoroughly mystified -by the whole situation, had nothing whatever -to say. Finally the Seigneur stood up, this -time with his head high, and his self-control -returned. He put the falcon, screaming, into -his squire’s hands, and took the bodies of the -pigeons from his belt.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“So, Courtoise, I leave them all with you. -Where is the Lady Lenore?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Sooth, I know not; yet methinks when -she left the armory where she had spoken to -me, she passed into the chapel.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I go to her. And I thank thee, Courtoise, -for thy rebuke.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“My lord, my lord, forgive me!” Courtoise -choked with a sudden new rush of devotion -for his master. He would have fallen on his -knees there on the courtyard stones, but that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>the Seigneur, with a faint smile at him, was -gone, carrying alone the burden of his inexplicable -sorrow.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The Lady Lenore was in the chapel, half -kneeling, half lying upon the altar-step. In -the dim light of the shadowy place her golden -hair and amber-colored garments glimmered -faintly. She was not praying, yet neither was -she weeping, now. The long, hot loneliness -of the afternoon had thrown her into a state of -apathy, in which she wished for nothing, and -in which she refused to think. She had no -desire for company; but had any one come—David, -or Alixe, or Madame—she should not -have cared. It was only Gerault that she -would not have see her in this place and attitude. -The thought of Gerault was continually -with her, as something omnipresent; but at -this especial hour she felt no wish to see the -man himself. Yet now he came. She heard a -tread on the stones that sent a tremor through -her whole body. Then some one was kneeling -beside her, and a quiet voice said gently in -her ear,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Lenore!—My child!—Why art thou -lying here?”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>Lenore tried hard to speak; but her throat -contracted convulsively, and she made no -answer.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Child, art thou sick for thy home? Thou -hast found sorrow here, and loneliness, in this -new abode. Perhaps thou wouldst have had -me oftener at thy side. Is it so, Lenore?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>The girl’s golden head burrowed down into -her arms, and she seemed to shake it, but she -did not speak.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Gerault looked about him a little helplessly. -Then, taking new resolution, he put one arm -about her, and, drawing her slight form close -to him, he said in a halting and broken way: -“Come, my wife—come with me for a little -time. Let us walk out together to the cliff -by the sea. The sun draws near the water—the -afternoon grows rich with gold.—And -thou and I will talk together.—Lenore, much -might I tell thee of myself, whereby thou couldst -understand many things that trouble thee now. -Knowing them, and with them, me, thou shalt -more justly judge me. Come, little one,—rise -up!” He drew her to her feet beside -him, and then, with his arms still around her, -he stood and put his lips to her half-averted -<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>cheek. Under that kiss she grew cold and -tremulous, but still preserved her silence. -Then the two moved, side by side, out of the -Castle, through the courtyard, and on to the -outer terrace that ran along the very edge of -the precipitous cliff against which, far below, -the summer sea gently broke and plashed.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Here, hand in hand, the Seigneur and his -lady walked, looking off together at the glory -of the mighty waters. The crimson sky was -veiled in light clouds that caught a more -and more splendid reflection of the fiery ball -behind them; while the moving waves below -were stained with pink and mellow gold. -Lenore kept her eyes fixed fast upon this -sight, while she listened to what Gerault was -saying to her. He talked, in a fitful, chaotic -way, of many things: of his boyhood here, of -Laure his sister, and Alixe, and of “one other -that was not as any of us,—our cousin, a -daughter of Laval, whose dead mother had -put her in the keeping of mine.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>So much mention of this girl Gerault made, -and then went on to other things, jumbling -together many incidents and scenes of his -boyhood and his youth, never guessing that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>Lenore, who continued so quietly to look off -upon the sea, had seized upon this one little -thing that he had said, and realized, with -a woman’s intuition, that the story of his -heart lay here. As Gerault rambled on, he -came gradually to feel that he had lost her -attention, and so, little by little, as the sunset -light died away, he ceased to speak, and there -crept in upon them, over them, through them, -that terrible silence that both of them knew: -the all-pervading, ghostly silence that haunted -this spot; the silence that had brought the -name upon the Castle,—the Chateau du -Crépuscule. Lenore grew slowly cold with -miserable foreboding, while Gerault, rebelling -against himself, was struggling to break the -bonds of his own nature.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Well named is this home of ours, Lenore,” -he said sadly.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Yea, it is well named,” was the reply.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Wilt thou—be—lonely forever here? -Art thou lonely now? Hast thou a sickness -for thy home and for thy people?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>For an instant Lenore hesitated. At Gerault’s -words her heart had leaped up with -a great cry of “Yes”; and yet now there -<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>was something in her that withheld her from -saying it. When at last she answered him, -her words were unaccountable to herself, yet -she spoke them feelingly: “Nay, Gerault. -Thou hast taken me to be one with thee. -Thou hast brought me here to thy home, -and it is also mine.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>A light of pleasure came into Gerault’s face, -and he took her into his arms with a freer -and more open warmth than he had ever -shown her before. “Indeed, thou art my -wife—one with me—my sweet one—my -sweet child Lenore! And this my home is -also thine,—Chateau du Crépuscule!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Suddenly Lenore shivered in his clasp. -That word “Crépuscule” sounded like a -knell in her ears, and as she looked upon -the gray walls looming out of the twilight -mists, the very blood in her veins stood still. -Whether Gerault felt her dread she did not -know, but he did not loose his hold upon -her for a long time. They stood, close-clasped, -on the edge of the cliff, looking -off upon the darkening sea, till, over the -eastern horizon line, the great pink moon -slipped up, giving promise of glory to the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>night. The cool evening breeze came off -the waters. They heard the creaking and -grating of the drawbridge, as it was raised. -Then a flock of sea gulls floated up from -the water below, and veered southward, along -the shore, toward their home. Finally, in the -deepening west, the evening star came out, -hanging there like a diamond on an invisible -thread. Then Gerault whispered in the ear -of Lenore,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Sweet child, it is late. The hour of evening -meat is now long past. Let us go into -the Castle.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Lenore yielded at once to the pressure of -Gerault’s arm, and let herself be drawn away. -But she carried forever after the memory of -that quiet half-hour, in which the mighty -hand of nature had been lifted over her to -give her blessing.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Courtoise the faithful had kept the two from -a summons at the hour of supper; and on -their return they found food left upon the -table for them; but, what was unusual at this -time, the great room was empty. Only Courtoise, -who was again at work in the armory, -knew how long they sat and ate and talked -<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>together, and only he saw them when they -rose from table, passed immediately to the -stairs, and ascended, side by side. Then the -young squire knew that they would come -down no more that night; and he guessed -what was really true: that on that evening -Lenore’s cup of happiness seemed full; for, -as never before, Gerault claimed and took to -himself the unselfish devotion that she was -so ready to give. When she slept, a smile -yet lingered round her lips; nor, in that -sleep, did she feel the change that came upon -her lord.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Not many hours after she had sunk to rest, -Lenore woke slowly, to find herself alone in -the canopied bed. Gerault was not there. -She put out her hand to him, and found his -place empty. Opening her eyes with a little -effort, she pushed the curtains back from the -edge of the bed, and looked about her. It -could not be more than twelve o’clock. The -room was flooded with moonlight, till it looked -like a fairy place. The three windows were -wide open to the breath of the sea; and beside -one of them knelt Gerault. He was wrapped -in a full mantle that hid the lines of his figure; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>and Lenore could see only that his brow rested -on the window-sill, that his shoulders were -bent, and his hands clasped tight on the ledge -beyond his head. Unutterable pain was expressed -in the attitude.</p> - -<p class='c014'>What was he doing there? Of what were -his thoughts? Why had he left her side? -Above all, what was his secret trouble? These -questions passed quickly through Lenore’s -brain, and her first impulse was to rise and go -to him. Had she not the right to know his -heart? Had he not given it to her this very -night? She looked at him again, asking herself -if he were really in pain; if he were not -rather simply looking out upon the moonlit -sea, and was now, perhaps, engaged in prayer, -to which the beauty of the scene had lifted him. -She would go to him and learn.</p> - -<p class='c014'>She sat up in bed, pushed her golden hair -out of her neck and back from her face. Then -she drew the curtains still farther aside, preparatory -to stepping out, when suddenly she -saw Gerault lift his head as if he listened for -something far away; and then she caught the -whispered word, “Lenore!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>For some reason, she could not have told -<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>why, Lenore did not move, but sat quite still, -staring at him. She heard him say again, more -loudly, “Lenore!” but he did not turn toward -her bed. Rather, he was looking out, out of -the window, and down the line of rocky shore -that stretched away to the north.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Lenore! I hear thee! I hear thy -voice!” he whispered, to himself, fearfully. “I -hear thee speaking to me.—Oh, my God! -My God! When wilt Thou remove this torture -from my brain?” He rose to his feet -and lifted his arms as if in supplication. “It -is a curse upon me! It is a madness, that I -cannot love this other maiden. Thou spirit -of my lost Lenore!—Lenore!—Lenore!—Thou -callest to me from the sea by day -and night!—Only and forever beloved, come -thou back to me, out of the sea!—Come -back to me!—Come back!” His hands were -clenched under such a stress of emotion as his -girl-wife had never dreamed him capable of. -Now he stood there without speaking, his -breath coming in sobbing gasps that shook his -whole frame. The beating of his heart seemed -as if it would suffocate him, and his body -swayed back and forward, under the force of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>his mental anguish. For the first time in all -his years of silent grief, he gave way unreservedly -to himself; let all the pent-up agony -come forth as it would from him, as he stood -there, looking off upon that wonderful, inscrutable, -shimmering ocean, that had played such -havoc with his changeless heart.</p> - -<p class='c014'>From the bed where she sat, Lenore watched -him, silent, motionless, afraid almost to breathe -lest he should discover that she was awake. -But Gerault wist nothing of her presence. -He had known no joy in her, in the hallowed -hours of the early night; else he could not -now stand there at the window, calling, in -tones of unutterable agony and tenderness, -upon his dead,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Lenore! Lenore! Come back!—O sea—thou -mighty, cruel sea, deliver her up for -one moment to my arms! Let me have but -one look, a touch, a kiss.—Oh, my God!—Come -back to me at last, or else I die!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>He fell to his knees again, faint with the -power of his emotion; and Lenore, the other, -the unloved Lenore, sat behind him, in the -great bed, watching.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The moonlight crept slowly from that room, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>and passed, like a wraith, off the sea, and beyond, -into the east. The stars shone brighter -for the passing of the moon. There was no -sound in the great stillness, save the rustling -murmur of the outflowing tide. In the chilly -darkness before the break of dawn, Gerault of -the Twilight Castle crept back to the bed he -had left, looking fixedly, through the gloom, -at the white, passive face of his wife, who lay -back, with closed eyes, on her pillow. And -when at last he slept again, she did not move; -yet she was not asleep. In that hour her -youth was passing from her, and she, a woman -at last, entered alone into that dim and quiet -vale where those that lived about her had wandered -so long, so patiently, and, at last, so -wearily, alone.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'><em>CHAPTER EIGHT</em><br /> <span class='large'>TO A TRUMPET-CALL</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='c013'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_225.jpg' width='100' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> -After the night of Gerault’s -passion, twelve days ebbed -and flowed away without any -incident of moment in the -Castle. How much bitter -heart-life was enacted in that -time, it had indeed been difficult to tell. -Lenore wondered, constantly, as she looked -into the faces about her and questioned them -as she refused to question her own heart. If, -beneath that cloak of lordly courtesy and calmness, -Gerault could hide such a grief as she -knew was buried in his soul; if she herself -found it so easy to conceal her own knowledge -of that bitterest of all facts, that she was a wife -unloved,—what stories of mental anguish, of -long-hidden torture, might not lie behind the -impassive masks around her. There was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>Madame Eleanore, madame of the commanding -presence and infinitely gentle manners. -What was it that had generated the expression -of her eyes? Lenore had scarcely heard the -name of Laure, thought only that there had -been a daughter in Crépuscule who had died -long since; and so she wove a little history -of her own to account for that haunted look -so often to be found in madame’s dark orbs. -Gerault she knew. Alixe puzzled her, but -there also she found food for her morbidness. -Courtoise and the demoiselles she did not consider; -but David the dwarf held possibilities. -The young woman’s new-sharpened glance -quickly discovered that the jester suffered -also from the devouring malady, and she -wondered over and pitied him also.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Indeed, at this time, Lenore was in an abnormal -and unhealthy frame of mind. It -seemed to her that all the world lived only to -hide its sorrows. But her melancholy speculations -concerning the nature of the griefs of -others saved her from the disastrous effects of -too much self-analysis. Her love for Gerault, -to which she always clung, led her to pity him -as he would not have believed she could have -<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>pitied any one; and, unnatural as it seemed, she -brooded as much over his sorrow as over her -own. Melancholy she was, indeed, and older -by many years than when she had first come -to Le Crépuscule. Sometimes the fact that -Gerault did not know how much she knew -brought her a measure of comfort, but it made -her uneasy, also, for she was not sure that she -was not wrongfully deceiving him. She could -not bring herself to confess to Father Anselm -what she felt no one should know; and neither -did she find it in her heart to tell Gerault himself -of her inadvertent discovery, though had -she but done this last, all might have come -right in the end. But from day to day she -put away from her the thought of speaking, -and from day to day she drew closer into herself, -till she was shut to all thought of confiding -in him who had the right to know the -reason of her unhappiness.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Gerault, however, was not unobserving, and -he noticed the change in her very early in its -existence. It was an intangible thing, elusive, -changeable, varying in degree. All this he -realized; but, man-like, never guessed the -reason for it, never knew that Lenore herself -<span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>was unconscious of it. Did she desire to coquet -with him, render him uneasily jealous -of every one on whom she turned her eyes? -If so, it was useless, for the knight believed -himself incapable of jealousy in regard to her. -He had married her for the sake of his mother, -and for Le Crépuscule,—much as the fact did -him dishonor. In the very hour of their highest -love, his thoughts had been all for another; -and when she slept he had left her side to cry -into the night and the silence, unto that other, -of whom this young Lenore had never heard. -Despite these confessed things, the Seigneur -Gerault felt in some way hurt when the timid -shadow of his wife no longer haunted him by -day, nor stretched to his protecting arm by -night. She had withdrawn from him into herself, -and even his occasional half-hours of devotion -failed to bring any light into her eyes, -though she treated him always with half-tender -courtesy. Her lord was not a little puzzled -by her new manner, but he took it in his -own way; and there was presently a stiffness -of demeanor between the two that would have -been almost laughable had it not been so -pathetically cruel to Lenore.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>The month of July passed away, and August -came into the land. Brittany, long blazing with -sunlight, lay parching for want of rain. The -moors grew brown and dusty, and the meadow -flowers bloomed no more. But the blue sea -shimmered radiantly day by day, and the -sunsets were ever more glorious and more red.</p> - -<p class='c014'>On a day in the first week of the last summer -month, when Anselm had found the temperature -too great for the casting of choice -paragraphs of Cicero before the unheeding -demoiselles, when the Castle reeked with the -smell of cooking, and the air outside was -heavy with the odor of hard-baked earth, -Gerault sat in the long room alone, reading -Seneca from an illuminated text. A heretical -document this, and not to be found in a monastery -or holy place; yet there were in it such -scraps of homely wisdom and comfort as the -Seigneur—something of a scholar in his idle -hours—had failed to find in Holy Scripture.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In its dimly lighted silence the long room -was, at this hour, a soothing place. The row -of small casement windows were open to the -sea, and two or three swallows, coming up from -the water below, flitted through the room, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>once even a sleek and well-fed gull came to sit -upon a sill and flap his wings over the flavor -of his last fish.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Gerault’s back was turned to the light; yet -he knew these little incidents of the birds, and -took pleasure in them. A portion of his mind -rejoiced lazily in the quiet and solitude; the rest -was fixed upon the Latin words that he translated -still with some lordly difficulty. He found -himself in the mood to consider the thoughts -of men long dead, and was indulging in the unsurpassed -delight of the philosopher when, to -his vast annoyance, Courtoise pushed aside the -curtains of the door, and came into the room -followed by another man. Gerault looked up -testily; but as he uttered his first word of reproach, -his eye caught the dress of his squire’s -companion, and he broke off with an exclamation: -“Dame! Thou, Favriole?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“May it please thee, Seigneur du Crépuscule,” -was the reply, as the new-comer advanced, -bowing. He was elaborately and -significantly dressed in a parti-colored surcoat -of blue and white silk, emblazoned behind -and before with the coronet and arms of -Duke Jean of Brittany. His hosen were -<span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>also parti-colored, yellow and blue, and the -round cap that he held in his hand was of -blue felt with a white feather. At his side -hung the instrument of his calling, a silver -trumpet on a tasselled cord; for he was a -ducal herald, and, before he spoke, Gerault -knew his errand.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Welcome, welcome, Favriole!” he said -kindly. “What is thy message now? Surely -not war?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nay, Seigneur Gerault! A merrier message -than that!” Lifting his trumpet to his -lips, he blew upon it a clear, silvery blast, -and, after the rather absurd formality, began: -“Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! Be it known to all -princes, barons, knights, and gentlemen of the -Duchy of Brittany and the dependency of -Normandy, and to the knights of Christian -countries, if they be not enemies to the Duke -our Sire,—to whom God give long life,—that -in the ducal lists of Rennes in Brittany, -upon the fifteenth day of this month of -August in this year of grace 1381, and thereafter -till the twentieth day of that month, -there will be a great pardon of arms and very -noble tourney fought after the ancient customs, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>at which tourney the chiefs will be the most -illustrious Duke of Brittany, appellant, and the -very valiant Hugo de Laci, Lord in vassalage -to his Grace of England, of the Castle Andelin -in Normandy, defendant. And hereby -are invited all knights of Christian countries -not at variance with our Lord Duke, to take -part in the said tourney for the glory of -Knighthood and the fame of their Ladies.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Favriole finished, smiling and important, and -from behind him rose a little buzz of interest. -For, at sound of the trumpet, almost all the -Castle company had hurried from their various -retreats to learn the meaning of the untoward -sound. In this group, not foremost, -standing rather a little back from the rest, was -Lenore, gravely regarding Gerault, where he -sat with the parchment before him. She had -recognized Favriole, the herald, for a familiar -figure in the lists at that long-past tournament -where she had first thought of being lady of -her lord; and she grew a little white under -the memories that the herald brought her. -Gerault had seen her at the first moment of -her coming, and, as soon as Favriole finished -his announcement, beckoned her to his side. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>She came forward to him quietly, and took her -place, acknowledging the pleased salute of the -visitor with the slightest inclination of her golden -head. When she was seated at the table, -Gerault, who had risen at her coming, spoke:</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Our thanks to you, Sir Herald, for your -message, which you have come a long and -weary way to bear to the one spurred knight -in this house. And devotion to our Lord, -Duke Jean, who—” Gerault paused. His -mother had just come to the room and halted -on the threshold, a little in front of the general -group, her eyes travelling swiftly from -Favriole’s face to that of Lenore. Gerault, -his thought broken, hesitated for an instant, -and turned also to look at his wife. Instantly -Lenore rose, and advanced a step or two to -his side. Then she said in a curiously pleading -tone,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I do humbly entreat my lord that he will -not refuse to enter this tournament; but that -he will at once set out for Rennes, there to -fight for—for ‘the glory of his Knighthood, -and the—the fame of his—Ladies’!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>When Lenore had spoken she found the -whole room staring at her in open amazement. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>Gerault gave his wife a glance that brought her -a moment’s bitter satisfaction,—a look filled -with astonishment and discomfort. Long he -gazed at her, but could find no softening -curve in her white, set face. Every line in -her figure bade him go. At length, then, he -turned back to Favriole, with something that -resembled a sigh, and continued his speech.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Sir Herald, carry my name for the lists; -and my word that on the fifteenth day of this -month I shall be in Rennes, armed and horsed -for the tourney. My challenge shall be sent -anon.—Courtoise! Take thine ancient comrade -to the keep, and find him refreshment ere -he proceeds upon his way.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Courtoise bowed, wearing an expression of -mingled pleasure and disapproval, and presently -he and the herald left the room together, -followed by all the young esquires. -After their disappearance the demoiselles also -wandered off to their pursuits, and presently -Gerault, Eleanore, and Lenore were left alone -in the long room. Eleanore stood still, just -where she was, and looked once, searchingly, -from the face of her son to that of his wife. -Then she addressed Gerault: “See that thou -<span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>come to me to-night, when I am alone in my -chamber. I would talk with thee, Gerault.” -And with another look that had in it a suggestion -of disdain, madame turned and went -out of the room.</p> - -<p class='c014'>When she was gone the knight drew a long -sigh, and then, with an air of apprehensive -inquiry, faced Lenore. At once she rose and, -with a very humble courtesy, started also to -depart. But Gerault, whose bewilderment at -the situation was changing to anxiety, said -sharply: “Stay, Lenore! Thou shalt not go -till we have spoken together.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Immediately she returned to her place and -sat down. She gave him one swift glance from -under her lashes, and then remained in silence, -her eyes fixed upon the floor.</p> - -<p class='c014'>At the same time the Seigneur got to his -feet and began to pace unevenly up and down -the room. His step was sufficient evidence of -his agitation; but it was many minutes before -he suddenly halted, turning to his wife and -saying in a tone of command: “Tell me, -Lenore, why thou biddest me go forth into -this tournament.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Ah, my lord—do not—I—” she paused, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>and, from flushing vividly, her face grew white -again: “Thou wilt be happier in Rennes, my -lord.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“How say you that? Were I not happier -at home here with my bride?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Asks my lord wherefore?” answered -Lenore, in a tone containing something that -Gerault could not understand.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nay, then, I ask thee naught but this: -wouldst thou, all for thyself, of thine own will, -have me go? Dost thou in thy heart desire -it?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Lenore drew her head a little high, and -looked him full in the face: “For myself, for -mine own selfish desires, of mine own will, I -entreat thee by that which through thy life -thou hast held most dear, to go!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Gerault stared at her, some vague distrust -that was entering his mind continually foiled by -the open-eyed clearness of her look. Finally, -then, he shrugged his shoulders, and, as he -turned away from her, he said: “Be satisfied, -madame. I do your bidding. I give -you what pleasure I can. In ten days’ time -I shall set off; and thou wilt be unfettered in -this Crépuscule!”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>And with this last ungenerous and angry -taunt, the Seigneur, his brain seething with -some emotion that he could not define, strode -from the room. Lenore rose as he left her, -and followed him, unsteadily, halfway to the -door. He went out of the Castle without -once looking back, and when he was quite -gone, the young girl felt her way blindly to -the chair where she had sat, and crouching -down in it, burst into a flood of repressed -and desperate tears.</p> - -<p class='c014'>When Gerault left Lenore’s side, he was no -whit happier than she. After the herald had -made his announcement of the tourney, and -Gerault had begun his reply, it was his intent -to refuse to go, though in his secret heart he -longed eagerly to be off to that city of gay -forgetfulness. But when his wife, Lenore, the -clinging child, besought him, with every appearance -of sincerity, to leave her, he heard -her with less of satisfaction than with surprised -disappointment. Now he fought with himself; -now he questioned her motive; again he longed -for Rennes and the tourney. Finally, there -rushed over him the detestable deceit in his -own attitude; and he began to curse himself -<span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>for what, sometimes, he was,—the most intolerant -and the most selfish of tyrants. In these -varying moods Gerault rode, for the rest of -the afternoon, over the dry moors, hawk on -wrist, but finding his own thoughts, unhappy -as they were, more engrossing than possible -quarries. He returned late—when the evening -meal was nearly at an end; and he perceived, -with dull disappointment, that Lenore -was not at table. Madame presently informed -him that she lay in bed, sick of a headache; -and this was all the conversation in which he -indulged while he ate his hurried meal. But -as soon as grace was said and the company -had risen, Gerault started to the stairs. Instantly -his mother caught his sleeve and held -him back, saying,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Go not to thy room. She has perchance -fallen asleep by now; and she should not be -wakened, for she hath been very ill. Seek -thou rather my bedchamber, and there presently -I will come to thee; for I have somewhat -that I would say to thee, Gerault.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Feeling as he had sometimes felt when, in -his early boyhood, he had waited punishment -for some boyish misdeed, the Seigneur obeyed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>his mother, and went up to her room, which -was now wrapped in close-gathering shadows. -Here, a few moments later, Eleanore found -him, pacing up and down, his arms folded, -his head bent upon his breast, a dark frown -upon his brows. The windows were open to -the evening, and, like some witchcraft spell, its -sweetness entered into Gerault, penetrating to -his brain, and once again turning his thoughts -to the spirit that haunted all Le Crépuscule -for him.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Madame came into the room, drawing the -iron-bound door shut behind her, and pushing -the tapestry curtain over it. Then, without -speaking, she crossed the room, seated herself -on her settle beside the window, and fixed -her eyes on the moving form of her son. -Under her look Gerault grew more restless -still; and he was about to break the silence -when presently she said, in a low, rather -grating tone: “Know, Gerault, that I am -grieved with thee.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>He turned to her at once with a little gesture -of deprecation; but she went on speaking:</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Thou hast brought home from Rennes a -wife: a fair maid and a gentle as any that hath -<span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>ever lived; and moreover one that loves thee -but too well. In her little time of dwelling -here she hath, by her quiet, lovely ways, crept -close into my heart, that was erstwhile so bitterly -empty. And having her here, and seeing -her growing devotion to thee, her continual -striving to please thee in thine every desire, -methought that thou, a knight sworn to chivalry, -must needs treat her with more than -tenderness. Yet that hast thou not, Gerault. -Dieu! Thou’rt all but cruel with her! God -knows thy father came to be not over-thoughtful -in his love of me. Yet had he neglected -and spurned me in our early marriage as thou -hast this bride of thine, I had surely made end -of myself or ever thou camest into the world. -Shame it is to thee and to all mankind how—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Madame! Madame!—Forbear!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>At his tone, Eleanore held her peace, while -Gerault, after a deep pause, in which he regained -his self-control, began,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Canst thou remember, my mother, a talk -that we—thou and I together in this room—held -one afternoon more than a year agone? -’Twas in this room, the day before I went -last to Rennes. Thou didst entreat me to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>bring thee back a wife to be thy daughter in -the place of Laure.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“At that hour the idea was impossible to -me. Thou knowest—’fore God thou knowest—the -suffering that time has never eased -for me. A thousand times I had vowed then, -a hundred times I swore thereafter, that the -image of mine own Lenore should never be -replaced within my heart; and it holds there -to-day as fair and clear as if it were but yesterday -she went.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Many months passed away, madame, and -I saw this golden-haired maiden about Rennes,—in -the Ladies’ Gallery in the lists, and at -feasts in the Castle; yet I had never a thought -in my heart of wedding with her. Then—late -in the spring—St. Nazaire sent me message -of Laure’s disgrace, her excommunication; -and my heart bled for thee. I sent -out many men to search my sister, but not -one ever gathered trace of her. Then, when -there was no further hope of restoring her -to thee, the idea of marriage came to me for -the first time as a duty—toward thee. My -whole soul cried out against it. Lenore de -Laval reproached me from the heaven where -<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>she dwells. And yet—in the end—for <em>thy</em> -sake, madame, I brought home with me the -gentle child men call my wife.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I confess it to thee only: I do not love -her. Yet indeed none can say that I have -used her ill, save as I could not bring myself -falsely to act the ardent lover. If she hath -been unhappy, then am I greatly grieved. -Yet what hath she not that women do desire -in life? What lacks there of honor or of -pleasure in her estate? Moreover, if she -has lost her own mother, hath she not gained -thee, dear lady of mine? Mon Dieu, madame,—think -not so ill of me. I swear -that for me she yearns not at all. Even this -afternoon, when all of you had departed from -the long room, she did implore me, with sincerest -speech, that I depart at early date for -Rennes. How likes you that? And moreover, -to all my questioning, she did stoutly -deny that my going would be for aught but -her own pleasure, and would in no way grieve -her heart.” And Gerault stared upon his -mother with the assured and exasperated look -of a doubly injured man.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Madame Eleanore drew herself together and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>set her lips in the firm resolve still to treat her -son with consideration. When she began to -speak, her manner was calm and her voice low -and quiet; yet in her eyes there gleamed a fire -that was not born of patience. “So, Gerault! -Doubtless all thou sayest is sooth to thee; -yet I would tell thee this: when thou left’st -her alone, I came upon her still sitting in the -long room, leaning her head upon the table -where thou hadst sat, weeping as if her heart -was like to break. And when her sobs were -still I brought her up to her room and -caused her to remove her garments and to -seek her bed, though all the while she shook -with inward grief, till Alixe brought her a -posset, and bathed her head in elder-flower -water, and then, at last, she slept.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“And gave she no name to thee as cause -for her malady?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Art thou indeed so ignorant of us? Or -is it heartlessness? Wilt thou go to -Rennes?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Hath she not required me to go? Good -Heavens, madame! what wouldst have me -do?” he answered with weary impatience.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Gerault, Gerault, if I could by prayer or -<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>anger make thee to understand for one instant -only! Ah, ’tis the same tale that every woman -has to tell. It was so with me. In my -early youth I was brought from bright Laval, -where I was a queen of gayety and life, to rule -alone over this great Twilight Castle. Thy -grandam was dead; and there was no other -woman of my station here. In a few months -after my home-coming as a bride, thy father -rode away to join the army of Montfort in the -East. From that time I saw my lord but a -few weeks in every year; for the war lasted -till I had reached the age of four-and-thirty. -Thou camest to cheer my loneliness; and then, -long after, Laure. And at last, when Laure -was in her first babyhood, seventeen years -agone, the long struggle ended at Auray; and -then my lord, sore wounded in his last fight, -came home. Alas! I was no happier for his -coming. He had suffered much, and he was -no longer young. We two, so long separated, -were almost as strangers one to the other. -Thou wast his great pride; dost remember -how he loved to have thee near him? And -many a time it cut me to the heart to hear the -bloody, valorous tales he poured into thine -<span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>ears; for I knew by them that he meant thee -to do what he had done. It was not till he -lay in his mortal sickness that we came back -one to the other; but he died in my arms, -whispering to me such words as I had never -had from him before. That last is a sweet -memory, Gerault; but the tale is none the less -grievous of my young life here. And there is -the more pity of it that mine is not the only -story of such things. Many and many is the -weary life led by some high-born lady in her -castle, while her lord fights or jousts or drinks -his life out in his own selfishness. Through -those long years of the war of the Three -Jeannes, I suffered not alone of women; and -how I suffered, thou canst never know. Do -thou not likewise with thy frail Lenore. Stay -with her here a little while, and make her life -what it might be made with love.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Gerault listened in non-committal silence. -When she finished he turned and faced her -squarely: “Hast made this prate of my father -and thee to Lenore?” he asked severely.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Gerault!” The exclamation escaped involuntarily; -when it was out Eleanore bit her -lip and drew herself up haughtily. “Thou’rt -<span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>insolent,” she said in a tone that she would -have used to an inferior.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In that moment her son found something in -her to admire, but the man and master in him -was all alive. “Madame, we will waste no -further words. I crave the honor to wish you -a good-night.” And with a profound and -ironical bow, he turned from the room, leaving -Eleanore alone to the darkness, and to what -was a defeat as bitter as any she had ever -known.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Through the watches of the night this -woman did not pray, but sat and meditated -on the immense question that she had herself -raised, and to which she had not the courage -to give the true answer. Through her nearest -and dearest she had learned the natures of men, -knew full well their only aims and interest: -prowess in arms, hunting, hawking, drinking, -and, when they were weary, dalliance with their -women. But was this <em>all</em>? Was this all there -was for any woman in the mind of the man -that loved her? The idea of rebellion against -the scorn of men was not at all in her mind. -She only wondered sadly how she and others -of her sex came to be born so keenly sentient, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>so open to heart-wounds as they were. And -she divined that her question burned no less -in the brain of the young Lenore than in her -own, though neither of them ever spoke of -it together. Nor did either make any roundabout -inquiries as to Gerault’s intentions with -regard to Rennes. Not so, however, the -demoiselles of the Castle. Courtoise was under -a hot fire of inquisition throughout most -of the following two days; but for once he -himself was uncertain of his lord’s move, and -presently there was a little air of joy creeping -over the place in the shape of a hope that the -Seigneur was going to remain in Crépuscule. -This, indeed, was the secret idea of Courtoise; -and only David the dwarf refused to entertain -a suspicion that Gerault would not ride to -Rennes for the tourney.</p> - -<p class='c014'>David judged well; for Gerault went to -Rennes. Lenore knew on the tenth of the -month that he would go. Madame remained -in doubt till the day before the departure.</p> - -<p class='c014'>On the morning of the twelfth the whole -Castle was astir by dawn. Gerault and his -squire, bravely arrayed, came into the great -hall at five o’clock, and sat down to their early -<span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>meal. On the right hand of the Seigneur was -Lenore, not eating, only looking about her -on the fresh morning light, and again into -Gerault’s face. She was not under any stress -of emotion. She was, rather, very dull and -heavy-eyed. Yet down in her heart lay a -smothered pain that she felt must come forth -before long, in what form she could not tell. -She and Gerault did not talk much together. -There was a little strain between them that -was none the less certain because it was indefinable, -and it was a relief to the young wife -when madame finally appeared. Lenore saw -Eleanore’s face with something of surprise. -Never had it been so cold, so expressionless, -so like a piece of chiselled marble; and -looking upon her son, it grew yet harder, -yet colder. But when madame, after some -little parley with Courtoise, turned finally to -Lenore, the child-wife found something in that -face that came dangerously near to melting her -apathy, and freeing the flood of grief that lay -deep in her heart.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Half an hour later the knight and his squire -were in the courtyard, where their horses stood -ready for the mount. The little company of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>the Castle gathered close about their master, -watching him as they might have watched -some mythical god. Indeed, he was a brave -sight, as he stood there in the early sunshine, -flashing with armor, a gray plume floating -from his helmet, and one of Lenore’s small -gloves fastened over his visor as a gage. -Lenore beheld this with infinite, gentle pride, -as she stood fixing his great lance in its -socket. Presently two of the squires helped -him to mount to the saddle; and when he -was seated, he lifted Lenore up to him to -give her good-bye. A few tears ran from her -eyes, and rolled silently down his breastplate, -on which they gleamed like clustered diamonds. -But Lenore wiped them away with -her hair, that they might not tarnish the metal -of his trappings; and by that act, perhaps, -Gerault lost a blessing.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The last kiss that he gave her was a long -one, and his last words almost tender. Then, -putting her to the ground again, he saluted -his mother, though her coldness struck him -to the heart; and, after a final farewell to the -assembled company, he turned and gave the -sign of departure to Courtoise.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>Spur struck flank. At the same instant, the -two horses darted forward to the drawbridge, -across which they had presently clattered. -Alixe, who had been a silent spectator of the -scene of departure, was standing near Lenore; -and now she leaned over and would have whispered -in the young wife’s ear; but Lenore could -not have heard her had she spoken. The child -stood like a statue, blind to everything save to -the blaze of passing armor, deaf to all but the -echo of flying hoofs. Here she stood, in the -centre of the courtyard, alone with her strange -little life, watching the swift-running steed carry -from her all her power of joy. With straining -eyes she saw the two figures disappear down -the long, winding hill; and when they had -gone, and only a lazily rising dust-cloud remained -to mark their path, she stayed there -still. But presently Eleanore came to her -side and took her cold hand in a hot pressure. -And then, as the two bereft women looked -into each other’s eyes, the frozen grief melted -at last, and the flood burst upon them in all -its overwhelming fury.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'><em>CHAPTER NINE</em><br /> <span class='large'>THE STORM</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='c013'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_251.jpg' width='100' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> -For ten days after Gerault’s -departure, Lenore led a disastrous -mental existence, which -she expressed neither by words -nor by deeds. In that time -no one in the Castle knew how -she was rent and torn with anguish, with yearning -that had never been satisfied, and with useless -regret for a bygone happiness that had not -been happy. The silent progress of her grief -led her into dark valleys of despair; yet none -dreamed in what depths she wandered. She, -the woman chaste and pure, dared not try to -comprehend all that went on within her. She -dared not picture to herself what it was she -really longed for so bitterly. The cataclysms -that rent her mind in twain were unholy things, -and, had she been normal, she might have -<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>refused to acknowledge them. The changes -in her life had come upon her with such overwhelming -swiftness that she had hitherto had -no time for analysis; and now that she found -herself with a long leisure in which to think, -the chaos of her mind seemed hopeless; she -despaired of coming again into understanding -with herself.</p> - -<p class='c014'>During all these days Madame Eleanore -watched her closely, but to little purpose. The -calm outward demeanor of the young woman -baffled every suspicion of her inward state. -Day after day Lenore sat at work in the -whirring, noisy spinning-room, toiling upon -her tapestry with a diligence and a persistent -silence that defied encroachment. Hour after -hour her eyes would rest upon the dim, blue -sea; for that sea was the only thing that -seemed to possess the power of stilling her -inward rebellion. Forgetting how the winds -could sometimes drive its sparkling surface -into a furious stretch of tumbling waters, she -dreamed of making her own spirit as placid -and as quiet as the ocean. The thought -was inarticulate; but it grew, even in the -midst of her inward tumult, till in the end -<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>it brought her something of the quiet she so -sorely needed.</p> - -<p class='c014'>By day and by night, through every hour, -in every place, the figure of her husband was -always before her. How unspeakably she -wanted him, she herself could not have put -into words. She knew well that he had promised -to come back—“soon.” But when every -hour is replete with hidden anguish, can a day -be short? Can ten days be less than an eternity? -a possible month of delay less than -unutterable?</p> - -<p class='c014'>One little oasis Lenore found for herself in -this waste of time. Every day she had been -accustomed to pray upon her rosary, which -was composed of sixty-two white beads. Now, -when she had said her morning prayer, she tied -a little red string above the first bead. On the -second morning it was moved up over the -second bead; and so the sacred chain became -a still more sacred calendar. How many times -did she halt in her prayers to find the thirtieth -bead! and how her heart sank when she saw it -still so very far from the little line of red!</p> - -<p class='c014'>At the end of the first week of the Seigneur’s -absence, it came to Madame Eleanore with a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>start that Lenore was growing paler and more -wan. Then a suspicion of what the young -wife was suffering came to the older woman, -and she racked her brains to think of possible -diversions for the forlorn girl. A hawking -party was arranged, which Madame Eleanore -herself led, on her good gray horse. And in -this every one discovered with some surprise -that Lenore could sit a horse as easily as the -young squires, and that she managed her bird -as well as any man. Alixe, who had always -been the one woman in the Castle to make a -practice of riding after the dogs, or with hawk -on wrist, was filled with delight to find this -unexpected companion for her sports; and she -decided that henceforth Lenore should take the -place of her old companion, Laure, in her life.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The hawking party accomplished part of -its purpose, at least; for Lenore returned from -the ride with some color in her face and a -sparkle in her eyes. She was obliged, however, -to take to her bed shortly after reaching the -Castle, prostrated by a fatigue that was not -natural. Madame hovered over her anxiously -all through the night, though she slept more -than in any night of late, and rose next morning -<span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>at the usual hour, much refreshed. That -afternoon, when the work was through, madame -saw no harm in her riding out with Alixe for -an hour, to give a lesson to two young <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mués</span></i> -that were jessed and belled for the first time. -And during this ride the young women made -great strides in companionship.</p> - -<p class='c014'>What with new interest in an old pastime -thus awakened, and a subject of common -delight between her and Alixe, Lenore found -the next nine days pass more quickly than the -first. On the morning of the thirty-first of the -month, however, Lenore had a serious fainting-spell -in the spinning-room. She had been at -work at her frame for an hour or more, when -suddenly it seemed to her that a steel had -pierced her heart, and she fell backward in -her chair with a cry. The women hurried to -her, and after some moments of chafing her -hands and temples, and forcing cordials down -her throat, she was brought back to consciousness. -Her first words were: “Gerault! -Gerault!” and then in a still fainter voice: -“Save him, Courtoise! He falls!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Thinking her out of her mind, madame -carried her to her bedroom, and, admitting -<span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>only Alixe with her, quickly undressed the -slender body, and laid Lenore in the great -bed. Presently she opened her blue eyes, and, -looking up into madame’s face, said, in a voice -shaking with weakness,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“It was a dream—a vision—a terrible vision! -I saw Gerault—<em>killed</em>! My God!” she -put her hands to the sides of her head, in the -attitude that a terrified woman will take. “I -saw him— Ah! But it is gone, now. It is -gone. Tell me ’twas a dream!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Madame and Alixe soothed her, smoothing -the hair back from her brow, patting her hands, -and giving her all the comfort that they knew. -Presently Lenore was calm again, and asked to -rise. Madame, however, forbade this, insisting -that she should keep to her bed all day; -and through the afternoon either she or Alixe -remained in the room, sewing, and talking -fitfully with Lenore. The young wife, however, -seemed inclined to silence. A shadow -of melancholy had stolen upon her, and there -was a cold clutch at her heart that she did not -understand. Eleanore had her own theory in -regard to the illness, and Alixe, whatever she -might have noticed, had nothing to say about it.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>Next morning, the morning of the first -of September, Lenore rose to go about her -usual tasks, seeming no worse for the attack of -the day before, except that her melancholy continued. -Work in the spinning-room that day, -however, was cut short on account of the heat, -which was more oppressive than it had been at -any time during the summer. Though the -sky was clear and the sun red and luminous, -the air was heavy with moisture; the birds flew -close to the ground; spiders were busy spinning -heavy webs; worms and insects sought the -underside of leaves; and all things pointed to -a coming storm. At noon two mendicant -monks came to the Castle, asking dinner as -alms; and when the meal was over, they did -not proceed upon their way. The bright blue -of the sky was beginning to be obscured by -fragments of gathering cloud, and in the infinite -distance could be heard low and portentous -murmurs. The sense of oppression and of -apprehension that comes with the approach of -any disturbance of nature was strong in the -Castle. At four in the afternoon, madame had -prayers said in the chapel, and there was a -short mass for safety during the coming storm. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>After this service, Lenore, with Alixe and -Roland de Bertaux, went out to walk upon -the terrace that overlooked the water. The -sight before them was impressive. The whole -sea, from shore to far horizon, lay gray and -glassy, flattened by the weight of air that -overhung it, heavy and hot with moisture. -The sun was gone, and the heart of the sky -palpitated with purple. Flocks of gulls wheeled -round the Castle towers, screaming, now and -then, with some uneasy dread for their safety. -The air grew more and more heavy, till one -was obliged to breathe in gasps, and the sweat -ran down the body like rain. The moments -grew longer and quieter. The whole world -seemed to stop moving; and the birds, veering -along the cliffs, moved not a feather of their -wings.</p> - -<p class='c014'>After that it came. The sky, from zenith -to water-line, was cut with a lightning sword, -that hissed through the water-logged gray like -molten gold. Then followed the cry of pain -from the wound,—such a roar as might have -come from the throats of all the hell-hounds at -once. There was a quick second crash, while -at the same instant a fire-ball dropped from -<span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>heaven into the ocean, curdling the waters -where it fell. Then, fury on fury, came the -storm,—wind and rain and fiercer flashes, the -line of the shower on the sea chased eastward -by a toppling mass of rushing foam. With -a scream the flock of gulls dashed out into -the mist to meet it, and were seen no more; -for now the world was black, and everything -out of shelter was in a whirling chaos of spray -and rain.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Inside the Castle holy candles had been -lighted in every room, and beside them were -placed manchets of blessed bread, considered -to be of great efficacy in warding off lightning-strokes. -The two monks, sincerely grateful -for their shelter from this outburst, knelt together -in the chapel, and called down upon -themselves the frightened blessings of the -company by praying incessantly, though their -voices were inaudible in the tumult of the -storm. The wind shrieked around the Castle -towers. Flashes of white light, instantly followed -by long rolls of thunder, succeeded each -other with startling rapidity. And, as a fierce, -indeterminate undertone to all other sounds, -came the roaring of the sea, which an incoming -<span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>tide was bringing every minute higher and -closer around the base of the cliff below.</p> - -<p class='c014'>An hour went by, and yet another, and -instead of diminishing in fury, the wind seemed -only to increase. None in the Castle, not -madame herself, could remember a summer -storm of such duration. Every momentary -lull brought after it a still more violent attack, -and the longer it lasted, the greater grew the -nervousness of the Castle inmates; for to them -this meant the anger of God for the sins of -His children. The evening meal was eaten -amid repeated prayers for mercy and protection; -and shortly thereafter, the little company -dispersed and crept away to bed,—not because -of any hope of sleep, but because there would -be a certain comfort in crouching down in a -warm shelter and drawing the blankets close -overhead. The demoiselles, for the most -part, and possibly the squires too, huddled two -or three in a room. The monks were lodged -together in the servants’ quarters; and of all -that castleful, only the women for whom it was -kept were unafraid to be alone. Eleanore, -Lenore, and Alixe sought each her bed; but of -them madame only closed her eyes in sleep.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>Lenore found herself terribly restless; and -the foreboding in her mind seemed not all -the effect of the storm. Her thoughts moved -through terrifying shadows. It seemed to -her that some great, unknown evil hung over -her; but her apprehension was as elusive as -it was unreasonable. For some hours she -forced herself to keep in bed, tossing and twisting -about, but letting no sound escape her. It -seemed at last as if the fury of the wind had -diminished, though the lightning-flashes continued -incessantly, and the whole sky was still -alive with muttering thunder. A little after -midnight, urged by a restlessness that she was -powerless to control, Lenore rose, threw a -loose bliault around her, took down the iron -lantern that hung, dimly burning, on a hook -in a corner of the room, and, lighting her way -with this, went out into the silent upper hall -of the Castle.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Gray and ghostly enough everything looked, -in the dim, flickering lantern-light. There -was in the air a smell of pitchy smoke from -burnt-out torches, and it seemed to Lenore as -if spirits were passing through this mist. Yet -she felt no fear of anything in the spirit world. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>Her heart was full of something else,—a -vague, indefinable, more terrible dread, an -oppression that she could not reason away. -Clad in her voluminous purple mantle, with her -hair unbound and flowing over her shoulders, -where it sparkled faintly in the lantern-light, -she went down the stairs, across the shadowy, -pillared spaces of the great lower hall, and so -into the long room where Gerault had sat on -the day when the herald had come to call him -to Rennes. She had a vision of him sitting -there at the table, bent upon his manuscript -philosophy, never looking up, as again and -again she passed the door. It was a ghostly -hour for her to be abroad and occupied in such -a way; yet she had no thought of present -danger. A useless sob choked her as she -turned away from this place of sorrowful -memories and went to the chapel. Here half a dozen -candles on the altar were still burning -to the god of the storm; and Lenore, finding -comfort in the sight of the cross, knelt -before it and offered up a prayer for peace of -mind. Then, rising, she moved back again -into the hall; and, dreading to return to her -lonely room, where the roar of waves and the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>soughing of the wind round the towers made -a din too great for sleep, she sat down on a -bench that stood beside a pillar directly opposite -the great, locked door. Sitting here, -her lantern at her feet, elbow on knee, chin on -hand, she fell into a strange reverie. The bitterest -of all memories came back to her without -bitterness; and she tried to picture to -herself that woman of Gerault’s secret heart. -What had she been? How had she died? -Or was she dead? In what relation had she -really stood to Gerault? Was she that cousin -of Laval—or some other? These thoughts, -which, always before, Lenore had refused to -work into definite shape, came to her now and -were not repelled. Her musing was deepest -when, suddenly, she was startled by the sound -of light footsteps in the hall above. Some one -came to the staircase; some one came gliding -sinuously down. Lenore half rose, and looked -up, cold with fear. Then she saw that it was -Alixe, and, strangely enough, her fear did not -lessen; for never had she seen Alixe like this.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Lenore looked at her long before she was -noticed; and the strangeness of the peasant-born’s -appearance did not lessen on close examination. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>She was dressed in garments of -pale green. And in these, and in her floating -hair, her greenish eyes, her arms, her neck, -Lenore fancied that she saw twists and coils -and lissome curves and the green and golden -fire of innumerable snakes. In the shadowy -light everything was indistinct; but there -seemed to be a phosphorescent glow about -Alixe’s garments that illumined her, till she -stood out, the brightest thing in the surrounding -darkness. Striving bravely to ward off -her sense of creeping fear, Lenore raised her -lantern high, and looked at the other, who had -now reached the foot of the stairs. Yes—no—<em>was</em> -this Alixe? Lenore took two or -three frightened steps backward, and instantly -Alixe turned toward her.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Lenore! Thou!” she cried.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Alixe!” Lenore stared, wondering at herself. -Surely she had suffered a hallucination. -Alixe was as ever, save that her eyes were a -little wider, her skin a little paler, than usual.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“What dost thou here, at this hour, alone, -Lenore? Did aught frighten thee?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I could not sleep, and so, long since, I -rose, to wander about till the noise of the storm -<span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>should fall. I have sat here for but a moment—thinking. -But thou, Alixe,—whither goest -thou?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I? I also could not sleep. The storm -is in my blood. I turned and tossed and -strove to lose my thoughts. But they burn -forever. Alas! I am seared by them. My -eyes refuse to close.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“What are those thoughts of thine, Alixe? -Perchance they were of the same woof as -mine.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nay, nay, Lenore! Thou hast no ancient -memories of this place.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“That may be; yet my thoughts were of -this place, and of a woman. Tell me, Alixe, -hast thou known in thy life one of the same -name as mine own: a maid whom—whom -my lord knew well, and who hath gone far -away?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Lenore! Mon Dieu! Who told thee of -her?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“It matters not. I know. Prithee, Alixe, -talk to me of her, an thou wouldst still the -torture of my soul!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“What shall I tell thee, madame?” Alixe -stared at the young woman with slow, questioning -<span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>surprise. “Knowest thou of her life -here among us?—or wouldst hear of her -death?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Of all—of her life and death—tell me -all!” Lenore drew her mantle close around -her, for she was shivering with something that -was not cold. She kept her head slightly bent, -so that Alixe could not see the working of her -face, as the two of them went together to the -settle by the pillar.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Lenore sat very still, listening absently to -the muffled sound of wind and rain and beating -waves, while her mind drank in the narrative -that Alixe poured into her ears; and so did -the one thing interweave itself with the other -in her consciousness, that, in after time, the -spirit of the lost Lenore walked forever in her -mind amid the terrible grandeur of a mighty -storm, lightning crowning her head, her hair -and garments dripping with rain and blown -about by the increasing wind. An eerie thing -it was for these two young and tender women, -lightly clad, to sit at this midnight hour in the -gray fastnesses of the Twilight Castle, and, -while the whirlwind howled without, to turn -over in their thoughts the story of a young -<span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>life so tragically cut off in the midst of its -happiness and beauty. Alixe’s changeable -eyes shone in the semi-darkness with a phosphorescent -gleam, and her voice rose and fell -and trembled with emotion as she poured into -Lenore’s burning heart the tale of Gerault’s -sorrow.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Five years agone, when I was but a maid -of twelve, Seigneur Gerault was of the age of -twenty-three. At that time this Castle, I mind -me, was a merry place enow. Madame -Eleanore had a great train of squires and -demoiselles in those days, and thy lord kept -a young following of his own—though he -held Courtoise ever the favorite. At that time -Gerault rode not to tournaments in Rennes, -but bided at home with madame, his mother, -and Laure, and the young demoiselle Lenore -de Laval, niece to madame, a maid as young -as thou art now. This maiden had come to -Crépuscule when she was but a little girl, her -own mother being dead, and madame loving -her as a daughter. Gerault’s love for her was -not that of a brother; yet because of their -blood-relationship, there was little talk of their -wedding. For all that, they two were ever -<span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>together in company, and alone as much -as madame permitted. They hawked, they -hunted, and, above all, they sailed out on -the sea. The Seigneur had a sailing-boat, -and Madame Eleanore never knew, methinks, -how many hours they spent on the waters of -the bay. Child as I was, I envied them their -happiness; and, though I went with them but -seldom, I knew always how long they were -together each day; and methinks I understood -how precious each moment seemed.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“On this day I am to tell thee of—oh, -Mother of God, that it would leave my memory!—I -sat alone by the little gate in the wall -behind the falconry, weeping because Laure -had deserted our game and run to her mother -in the Castle. So, while I sat there, wailing -like the little fool I was, came the Seigneur -and the demoiselle Lenore out by the gate on -their way over the moat and to the beach by -the steps that still lead thither down the cliff. -The demoiselle paused in her going to comfort -me, and presently, more, methinks, to tease -the Seigneur than for mine own sake, insisted -that I go sailing with them in their boat. I -can remember how I screamed out with delight -<span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>at the thought; for I loved to sail better -than I loved to eat; and though Gerault -somewhat protested, Lenore had her way, -and presently we had come down the cliff -and were on the beach by the inlet where the -boat was kept.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“’Twas the early afternoon of an April -day: warm, the sun covered over with a gray -mist that was like smoke, and but little wind for -our pleasure. Howbeit, as we put off into the -full tide, a breath caught our sail and we -started out toward an island near the coast, -round the north point of the bay, which from -here thou canst not see. I lay down in the -bottom of the boat, near to the mast, and -listened to the gurgling sound of the water as -it passed underneath the planks, and later -grew drowsy with the rocking. I ween I slept; -for I remember naught of that sail till we -were suddenly in the midst of a fog so thick -that where I lay I could scarce see the figure -of my lord sitting in the stern. There was no -wind at all, for the sail flapped against the -mast; and I was a little frightened with the -silence of everything; so I rose and went to -the demoiselle Lenore, who laid her hand on -<span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>my shoulder, and patted me. She and Sieur -Gerault were not talking together, for I think -both were a little nervous of the fog. All at -once, in the midst of the calm, a streak of wind -caught us, and the little boat heeled over under -it. Gerault caught at the tiller, swearing an -oath that was born more from uneasiness than -from anger. Reading his mind, Lenore moved -a little out of his way, and began to sing. Ah, -that voice and its sweetness! I mind it very -well—and also her chansonette. Since that -day I have not heard it sung, yet the words -are fresh in my mind. Dost know it, madame? -It beginneth,—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c017'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">‘Assez i a reson porqoi</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">L’eu doit fame chière tenir—</span>’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>“Ah, I remember it all so terribly! While -Lenore sang, there came yet another gust of -wind, and in it one of the ropes of the sail -went loose, and the Seigneur must go to fix -it. I sat between him and his lady, and as -he jumped up, he put the tiller against my -shoulder, and bade me not move till he came -back. Lenore sat no more than four feet from -me, on that side of the boat that was low in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>the wind. While she sang she had been playing -with a ring that she had drawn from her -finger. Just as monsieur sprang forward to -the rope, Lenore dropped this ring, which methinks -rolled into the water. I know that she -gave a cry and threw herself far over the side -and stretched out her hand for something. -As she leaned, I followed her movement, and -the tiller slipped its place. Ah, madame—madame—I -remember not all the horror of -the next moment! The boat went far over -before a wave. Lenore lost her hold, and was -in the water without a sound. The Seigneur, -in a rage at me for letting the rudder slip, -leaped back, and in an instant righted the boat, -I screaming and crying, the while, in my woe. -I know not how it was, but it seemed that, -till we were started on our way again, Gerault -never knew that—that his lady was gone.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Then what a scene! We turned the boat -into the wind, the Seigneur saying not one -word, but sitting stiff and still and white as -death in the stern. The path of the wind had -made a long rift in the fog, and through this -we sailed, I calling till my voice was gone, the -Seigneur leaning over, straining his eyes into -<span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span>that fathomless mist that walled us in on both -sides. After that he drew off his doublet and -boots, and would have leaped into the waves, -but that I—<em>I</em>, madame—held him from it. -I caught him round the arms till we were both -forced to the tiller again, and I cried and commanded -and shrieked at him till I made him -see that his madness would bring no help. I -could not guide the boat alone in the storm, -nor could he have saved Lenore from the -power of the water.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“For hours and hours we sailed the bay. -The wind drove the fog before it until the air -was clear, and I think that the sight of that -waste of tumbling seas was more cruel than -the veiling mist from which we ever looked for -Lenore to come back to us. Ah, I cannot -picture that time to thee—or to myself. At -last, madame, we went back to the Castle. We -left her there, the glory of our Seigneur’s life, -alone with the pitiless sea. It was I that had -done it; that I knew in my heart. That I -have always known, and shall never forget. -Yet Gerault never spoke a word of blame to -me. Mayhap he never knew how it came -about. For many months thereafter he was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>as a man crazed; and since that time he hath -not been the same. All that long summer he -stayed alone in his room, shut away from us -all, seeing only Courtoise, who served him, and -his mother, who gave him what comfort she -could. Twice, too, he asked for me, and -treated me with such kindness that it went -near to breaking my heart. Ah, then it was -that the Castle began to bear out its name! -It seems as if none had ever really lived here -since that time.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“But Lenore, thou wouldst say. We never -saw her again; though ’tis said that many -weeks afterwards a woman’s body was cast up -on the shore near St. Nazaire, and was burned -there by the fisher-folk, as is their custom -with those dead at sea. And they say that -now, by night, her voice is heard to cry out -along the shore near the inlet where Gerault’s -boat once lay.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Many years are passed since these things -happened; yet they have not faded from my -memory, nor have they from that of my lord. -Up to the time of thy coming, madame, he -mourned for her always; nor did he abstain -from asking forgiveness of Heaven for her end.”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>“Ah, Alixe, he hath not yet ceased to -mourn for her. Alas! I cannot fill her place -for him. He is uncomforted. How sad, -how terrible her end, within the very sight of -him she loved! Tell me, Alixe, was she very -fair?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Not, methinks, so fair as thou, madame. -Yet she was beautiful to look on, with her -dark hair and her pale, clear skin, and her -mouth redder than a rose in June. Her eyes -were dark—like shadowy stars. And her -ways were gentle—gay—tender—anything -to fit her mood. Ah! I am wounding thee!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Poor Lenore’s head was bent a little farther -down, and by her shoulders her companion -knew that she wept. Alixe would have given -much to bring some comfort for the pain -she had unintentionally roused. But in the -presence of the unhappy wife, she sat uneasy -and abashed, powerless to bring solace to that -tortured heart.</p> - -<p class='c014'>While the two sat there, in this silence, the -storm, which had lulled a little, broke out -afresh with such a flash and roar as caused -even Alixe to cower back where she was. -There was a fierce tumult of new rain and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>howling wind, and in the midst of it a sudden -great clamoring at the Castle door, and the -faint sound of a horse neighing outside. Alixe -sprang up, and, thinking only of giving shelter -to some storm-driven stranger, unbarred the -door. As it flew open before the storm, a -man was hurled into the room, in a furious -gush of water; and when the lantern-light fell -upon his haggard face, Lenore gave a cry that -was half a sob, and rushed upon him, clasping -his arms,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Courtoise! Courtoise! How fares my -lord?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Courtoise gazed down upon her, and did -not speak. In his face was such a look of -suffering as none had ever seen before upon it.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Courtoise!” she cried again, this time -with a new note in her voice. “Courtoise!—my -lord!—speak to me! speak—how fares -my lord?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>But still, though she clung to him, Courtoise -made no reply.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'><em>CHAPTER TEN</em><br /> <span class='large'>FROM RENNES</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='c013'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_276.jpg' width='100' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> -Lenore’s two hands went -up in an agony of entreaty. -Courtoise maintained his -silence. There was in the -great hall a stillness that the -rushing of the storm could -not affect. Alixe moved back to the door, -and barred it once more against the attacks of -the wind. At the same time another figure -appeared on the stairs. Madame Eleanore, -fully dressed, her hair bound round with a -metal filet, came rapidly down and joined the -little group. Lenore was as one groping -through a mist. She knew, vaguely, when -madame came; but it meant nothing to her. -Now she repeated, in the pleading tone of a -child that begs for some sweet withheld from -it by its elder,—</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>“Thou bringest a packet from my lord, -Courtoise? Sweet Courtoise, deliver it to my -hand. My lord sendeth me a letter, is it -not so?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>A low cry, inarticulate, heart-broken, came -from the lips of the esquire; and therewith -he fell upon his knees before the young -Lenore and held up his two hands as if to -ward off from her the blow that he should -deal. “Madame!” he said; and, for some -reason, Lenore cowered before him.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Then Eleanore came up to them, her face -milk-white, her eyes burning; and, laying her -hand upon the young man’s shoulder, she said -softly: “Speak, Courtoise! Tell us what is -come to thy lord. In pity for us, delay no -more.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Courtoise looked up to her, and saw how -deeply haggard her face seemed. Then the -world grew great and black; and out of -the surrounding darkness came his voice, -“The Seigneur is dead. Lord Gerault is -killed of a spear-thrust that he got in the -lists at Rennes. They bear him homeward -now.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>A deep groan, born of this, her final world-wound, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>came from Eleanore’s gray lips. Alixe -gave a long scream, and then fell forward upon -her knees and began to mutter senseless words -of prayer. Courtoise huddled himself up on -the floor, and let fatigue and grief strive for -the mastery over him. Only Lenore uttered no -sound. She, the youngest of them there, and -the most bereaved, stood perfectly still. One -of her hands was pressed hard against her forehead; -and she looked as if she were trying -to recall some forgotten thing. Presently she -whispered to herself a few indistinguishable -words, and a faint smile hovered round her -lips. Finally, seeing the piteous plight of -Courtoise, she laid one hand upon his lowered -head and said gently,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Courtoise, thou art weary, and wet, and -spent with riding. Rise, dear squire, and seek -thy bed, and rest. ’Tis very late—and -thou’rt so weary. Go to thy rest.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore looked at her, the frail girl, in -amazement. Then she came round and took -Lenore’s hand, and said: “Thou sayest well; -’tis very late, Lenore, and thou art also -lightly clad. Come thou to thy bed, and let -Alixe to hers. Come, my girl.”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>Lenore made no resistance, and went with -madame toward the stairs; Alixe stared after -them as if they had both been mad, for she -had never known a blow that stuns the brain. -Lenore suffered herself to be led quietly up -the stairs, and, reaching her own room, which -was dark save for the light that came through -from madame’s open door, she dropped off her -wide bliault, and lay down, shivering slightly, -in the cold bed. She was numb and drowsy. -Madame, bending over her, watched and saw -the eyelids slowly close over her great blue -eyes, till they were fast shut; and the young -Lenore slept—slept as sweetly as a babe.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Of the night, however, that madame spent, -who dares to speak in unexpressive words? -What the slow-passing, dark-robed hours -brought her, who shall say? Her last loss -broke her spirit; and she felt that underneath -the heavy, all-powerful hand of the -Creator-Destroyer, none might stand upright -and hope to live. Gerault had suffered, -as now he gave, great sorrow. Eleanore had -never felt herself close to his heart, as she had -once been close to the heart of that daughter -whom she had sacrificed to an unwilling God. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>But now, in the knowledge of his death, the -memory of Gerault’s coldness and of his -elected solitude went from her, and she recalled -only the justice, the strength, the self-reliance -of him. Gradually her memory drew -her back through his manhood, through his -youth and his boyhood, to the time of his -infancy, when the little, helpless, dark-eyed -babe had come to bless the loneliness of her -own young life. And with this memory, at -last, came tears,—those divine tears that can -wash the direst grief free of its bitterness.</p> - -<p class='c014'>As the dawn showed in the east, and rose -triumphant over the dying storm, madame -crept to her bed, and laid her weary body -on the kindly resting-place, and slept.</p> - -<p class='c014'>At half-past six the sun lifted above the -eastern hills, and looked forth from a clear, -green sky, over a land freshly washed, glittering -with dew, and new-colored with brighter -green and gold and red for the glorification -of the September day. The sea, bringing -great breakers in from the pathless west, -was spread with a carpet of high-rolling gold, -designed to cover all the new-stolen treasures -gathered by night and stored within its -<span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>treacherous, malignant depths. But the world -poured fragrant incense to the sun, and the -sun showered gold on the sea, and in this -sacrificial worship Nature expiated her dire -passion of the night.</p> - -<p class='c014'>It was fair daylight when Lenore opened her -eyes and sat up in her bed to greet the morning. -She was glad indeed to escape from the -fetters of sleep, for her dreams had been feverish -things. In them she had wandered abroad -over the gray battlements, and through the -grim chambers of dimly lighted Crépuscule, -and had seen and heard terrible things. Lenore -smiled to herself at the thought that all were -past. And then, creeping over her, came the -black shadow of reality, of memory. There -was the storm—her sleeplessness—Alixe—the -story of the lost Lenore—were these -dreams? And then—finally—God!—the -coming of Courtoise—and—</p> - -<p class='c014'>With a sharp cry Lenore sprang from the -bed, flung her purple mantle upon her, and -ran wildly through the adjoining room into -that of madame. Eleanore, roused from her -light sleep by that cry, had risen and met -her daughter near the door. Lenore needed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>but one glance into madame’s colorless face. -Then she knew that she had not dreamed in -the past night. Her horrible visions were -true.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Physical refreshment brought her a terrible -power: the power of suffering. There could -not now be any numb acceptance of facts. -Eleanore herself was shocked at the change -that a few seconds wrought in the young face. -Yet still Lenore shed no tears, made no exhibition -of her grief. Quietly, with the stillness -of death about her movements, she returned -to her room and began to dress herself. Before -she had finished her toilet, Alixe crept in, -white-faced and red-eyed, to ask if there were -any service she might do. Lenore tremulously -bade her wait till her hair was bound; -and then she said: “Let Courtoise be brought -in to me, here.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Wilt thou not first eat—but a morsel -of bread—nay, a sup of wine?” pleaded -Alixe.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Lenore looked at her. “How should I eat -or drink? Let Courtoise be brought to me.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Obediently Alixe went and found Courtoise -loitering about the foot of the stairs in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>hall below. He ascended eagerly when Alixe -gave him her message, and entered alone into -the room where sat Lenore.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Through two long hours Alixe and the -demoiselles and young esquires, a stricken, -silent company, huddled together at the table -in the long room, sat and waited the coming -of Courtoise. There was nothing to be done -in the Castle save to wait; and it seemed -to them all that they would rather work like -slaves than sit thus, inert and silent, and -with naught to do but think of what had -come upon Le Crépuscule. They knew that -the body of Gerault was on its way home. -A henchman had long since started off for -St. Nazaire to acquaint the Bishop with the -news and bring him back to the Castle. Also, -Anselm and the captain of the keep had lifted -the great stone in the floor of the chapel, -that led into the vault below. This was all -there was to be done now, until the last home-coming -of their lord.</p> - -<p class='c014'>At ten o’clock Courtoise appeared on the -threshold of the long room, and his face bore -a light as of transfiguration. As he went in -and halted near the doorway, the little company -<span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>rose reverently, and waited for him to -speak. He turned to Alixe, but it was a -moment or two before he could get his voice -and control it to speak.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Alixe—Alixe—Madame Lenore hath -asked for you—asks that you come to her.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe rose at once, and the two went out -together into the hall. There, however, Courtoise -halted, saying, in a low, almost reverent -tone: “She is in her chamber. I am to -remain here below.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe turned her white face and her bright -green eyes upon him questioningly. “How -doth she bear herself? Doth she yet weep?” -she asked in a half-whisper.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“She doth not weep. Ah, God! the -Seigneur married an angel out of heaven, -Alixe, and never knew it; and now can never -know!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“He was our lord, Courtoise. Reproach -not the dead.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Courtoise bent his head without speaking, -and Alixe went on, up to Lenore’s chamber, -the door of which stood half open. Alixe -went softly in, and found Lenore sitting alone -by the window, where madame had just left -<span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>her. Silently the widowed girl put out both -hands to Alixe, and, as Alixe went over to her, -the tears began to run from her eyes. It -was this sight of tears that first broke through -Lenore’s wonderful self-control. Springing to -her feet, with a choking, hysterical cry she -flung both arms around Alixe’s neck, and wailed -out, in that breathless monotone that children -sometimes use: “Alixe! Alixe! Why is it -that I cannot die? O Alixe! Alixe! Pray -God to let me die!”</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c014'>At four o’clock in the afternoon Monseigneur -de St. Nazaire arrived at the Castle. -The body of the fallen knight had not yet -come. Watchers had been placed in every -tower to catch the first sight of the funeral -train; but all day long they had strained their -eyes in vain. At last, when the sun was near -the horizon, and the golden shadows were long -over the land, and the sky was haloed with a -saintly glow, up, out of the cool depths of the -forest, on the winding, barren road that rose -toward the Castle on the cliff, came a wearily -moving company of men and horses. There -were six riders, who, with lances reversed, rode -<span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>three on a side of a broad, heavy cart, of which -the burden was covered with a great, black -cloth, embroidered in one corner with the -ducal arms of Brittany.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The drawbridge was already lowered. In -the courtyard an orderly company of henchmen -and servants stood waiting to see the -funeral car drive in. The Castle doors were -open, and in their space stood the Bishop, -with a priest at his right hand and, on his -left, Courtoise, black-clothed, and white and -calm. In front of the doorway the cart halted, -and immediately the six gentlemen of Rennes, -who had drawn Gerault from the fatal lists -and had of their own desire brought him -home, dismounted, and, after reverently saluting -the Bishop, went to the cart and lifted -out the stretcher. This, its burden still covered -with the black cloth, they carried into -the Castle and deposited in the chapel on -the high, black bier made ready for it.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Madame Eleanore, Alixe, and the demoiselles, -but not Lenore, were in the chapel -waiting. When the burden of the litter had -been placed, and the black cloth drawn close -over the dead body, Eleanore, who till this -<span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span>time had been upon her knees before the altar, -came forward to greet the six knightly gentlemen, -and all of them, as they returned her -sad salute, were struck with her impenetrable -dignity. Her salutation at once thanked them, -greeted them, and dismissed them from the -chapel; and indeed they had no thought of -staying to watch this first meeting of the living -with the dead; but, returning obeisance to the -mother of their comrade, they left the holy -room and found Courtoise outside, waiting to -conduct them to the refreshment that had been -prepared.</p> - -<p class='c014'>So was Eleanore left alone before her dead. -Behind her, near the altar, knelt the maidens, -weeping while they prayed. The tall candles -around the bier were yet unlighted; but -through one of the high windows came a last -ray of sunlight, to bar the mourning-cloth -with royal gold.</p> - -<p class='c014'>For a moment, clasping both hands before -her, in her silent strain, Eleanore stood still -before the bier. Then, moving forward, she -lifted the edge of the covering, and drew it away -from the head and shoulders of her son.</p> - -<p class='c014'>There was he,—Gerault. There was he, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_272'>272</span>scarcely whiter or more still than she had seen -him many times in life; yet he was dead: -transparent and pinched and ineffably still, and -dead! The head was bare of any cap or helmet, -and the black locks and beard were -smoothly combed. The broad, fair brow was -calm and unwrinkled. The mouth, scarce -concealed by the mustache, was curved into -an expression of great peace.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Madame took the cover again, and drew it -slowly down till the whole form lay before her. -His armor had been removed, and he was -clothed in silken vestments that hid all trace -of his wound. The hands were folded fair -across his breast; his feet were cased in long -velvet shoes, fur-bordered. From the peacefulness -of his attitude it was difficult to imagine -the scene by which he had met his end: the -great flashing and clashing of arms, the blare -of trumpets, the shouting applause of thousands -of fair onlookers, gayly clothed ladies, -who, after their shouting, saw him fall.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Long Eleanore stood there, looking upon -him as he lay, untroubled now by any human -thing. And as she looked, many world-thoughts -rose up within her as to his life, his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span>griefs, and the manner of his going. She had -had him always: had borne, and reared, and -watched, and loved him; and he had loved her, -she knew, though he had seldom shown it, -and had lived much within himself. She -yearned—ah, <em>how</em> she yearned!—to take him -now into her arms again, and croon over him, -and soothe him, as a mother soothes her -children. Alas, that he did not need it of -her! Her breast heaved twice or thrice, with -deep, suppressed sobs. Then she fell upon -her knees, and leaned her forehead over upon -an edge of his robe while she prayed. And as -she knelt there, twilight gathered over the sunset -glow, and the chapel grew dim and gray -with coming darkness.</p> - -<p class='c014'>After a long while madame rose and turned -to Alixe, who stood near, looking at her and -weeping. And madame said gently: “Alixe, -let her be summoned—little Lenore—his -wife. She should be here.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe bowed silently, and went away out of -the room. Eleanore remained in her place, -and the demoiselles still knelt under the crucifix. -Then came footboys, with tapers, to -light the candles. Presently the bier was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>haloed with yellow flames, and the marble -altar blazed with lights. The hour for the -mass was near, and the people of the Castle, -and a few country folk, clothed in their best, -began to come softly into the chapel, by twos -and threes. All, after bowing to the cross and -pausing for a few seconds to look upon -Gerault, passed over to the far side of the -room, and knelt there, absorbed in prayer. -The little room was more than half filled, -when Courtoise, pale and wide-eyed, appeared -upon the threshold, and, holding up his hand, -whispered to the throng,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Madame Lenore is here! Peace, and be -still! Madame Lenore comes in!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Immediately Lenore walked into the room, -and men held their breath at sight of her. She -was dressed as for a bridal, in robes of stiff, -white damask, her mantle fastened at her throat -with a silver pin, and her silver-woven wedding-veil -falling over her from the filet that confined -it. White as death itself she was, and -staring straight before her, seeing nothing of the -throng of onlookers. For a moment her eyes -were blinded by the blaze of light. Then she -started forward, to the body of her lord.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>When she entered, her two hands had been -tightly clenched, and she had thought to restrain -herself from any outbreak of grief before -the people. But the living were forgotten -now. Here before her was the face that she -had loved so wofully, that she had hungered -for so unspeakably. Here was he, the giver -of her one brief hour of unutterable happiness; -the cause of so many days and nights of tremulous -woe. Here he lay, waiting not for her -nor for anything, with no power to give her -greeting when she came. Yet it was he; it -was his face.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Gerault—Gerault—my lord!” she whispered -softly, as if he slept: “Gerault!” She -was beside him, and had taken one of the rigid -hands in both her warm, living ones. “My -lord, my beloved, wilt not turn thy face to me? -I have waited long for thy kiss. Prithee, give -but a little of thy love; <em>seem</em> but to notice me, -and I will be well content. Nay, but thou -surely wilt! Surely, surely, beloved, thou wilt -not pass me by!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>She had been covering the hand she held -with kisses, but now she put it from her, and -looked down upon the passive body, her eyes -<span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>wide and hurt, and her mouth tremulous with -his repulse. The spectators watched this pitiable -scene with fascinated awe; and it seemed -not to occur to one of them to prevent what -followed. None there realized that Lenore -was unbalanced: that to her, Gerault was still -alive. She bent over, and put her lips to his. -Then, burned and tortured by the unresponsiveness -of the clay, she laid herself down upon -the bier and put her head in the hollow of -Gerault’s neck, where it had been wont to rest.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Now, at last, two of that watching company -started forward to prevent a continuance of the -scene. Courtoise and the Bishop went to her -with one impulse; took her—monseigneur -by the hands, Courtoise about the body; -loosened her clasp upon the form of her dead -husband, and drew her gently away from the -bier. She, spent and shaken with her grief, -made no resistance, but lay quietly back in -their arms, trembling and weak. Thereupon -both men looked helplessly toward Madame -Eleanore, to know what should be done. She, -strained almost to the point of breaking, came -and stood over the form of Lenore and said to -Courtoise,—</p> - -<div id='i_293' class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i_293.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic006'> -<p><em><span class='c016'>“G</span>erault—Gerault—my<br />lord!” she whispered.—Page <a href='#Page_275'>275</a></em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>“She cannot remain here. ’Tis too terrible -for her. Carry her up to her room, whither -Alixe shall follow her. But I must remain -here till the mass is said.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Both of the men would gladly have acted -upon this suggestion; but madame had not -finished speaking when Lenore began to struggle -in their arms, crying piteously the while:</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nay! Let me stay! In the name of -mercy, let me not be sent from him. I will -not seek again to disturb his rest. I will be -very quiet—very still. I will not even weep. -I will but kneel here upon the stones, and will -not speak through all the mass, so that you take -me not out of his sight. Methinks he might -care to have me here; it might be his wish -that I should remain unto the end. Have -pity, gentle Courtoise! Pity, monseigneur!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>At once they granted her request, and released -her; for indeed her plea was more -than any of the three could well endure. The -Bishop was beyond speech, and the tears were -streaming from Courtoise’s eyes as he left -her side. Lenore kept her word. She knelt -down upon the stones, two or three feet from -the bier; and, with head bent low and hands -<span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>clasped upon her breast, strove to force her -thoughts to God and high heaven. St. Nazaire -at once began the mass for the dead, and never -had any man more reverence done him or more -tears shed for him than the stern and silent -Lord of Crépuscule, who, it seemed, had formed -a light of life for Lenore the golden-haired. -After the beginning of the service, she was left -unnoticed where she had placed herself; and, -as the minutes passed, her strained figure settled -nearer and nearer to the floor; the candle-light -played more joyously with her glorious hair; -and finally, as the mass neared its end, she -sank quietly down upon the stones, unconscious -and released from tears at last.</p> - -<p class='c014'>A few moments later, Courtoise and Alixe -bore her gently up the great stairs, and laid -her, in her white bridal robes, upon her lonely -bed. It was thus that she left Gerault; thus -that her youth and her love met their end, and -her long twilight of widowhood began.</p> - -<hr class='c011' /> - -<p class='c014'>Another morning dawned, in tender primrose -tints, and saluted the sea through a low-clinging -September haze. The Castle rose at the usual -hour, and dressed, and descended to the morning -<span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>meal, scarce able to understand that there -was any change in the usual quiet existence. -It was impossible, indeed, to realize that, in -two little days of sun and storm, the life of -the Castle had died, its mainstay had broken, -and that henceforth it must exist only in memories. -On this day two of the squires made -their adieux to madame, and hied them forth -to seek a lord by whom to be trained yet -more thoroughly for knighthood; and mayhap -to get themselves a little more familiar with its -third article.<a id='r3' /><a href='#f3' class='c015'><sup>[3]</sup></a> But Courtoise, all heart-broken -as he was, and Roland de St. Bertaux, and Guy -le Trouvé, being all of gentle blood, but without -other home to seek, came to their lady and -kissed her hand, and swore her eternal allegiance -and service. And the demoiselles, who had, -indeed, no need of a lord in the Castle, renewed -their duty to their mistress, and also tried to -give her what little comfort they knew, in the -shape of certain of Anselm’s Latin texts, and a -few less pithy but warmer phrases of their own -making. The six knights that had brought -Gerault home, rode off again, sadly bearing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>with them Eleanore’s brave messages of loyalty -and thanks to Duke Jean in Rennes. The -Bishop of St. Nazaire sent his assistant priest -home; but he himself elected to remain for -a day or two, knowing that, should Lenore -become seriously ill, he would be a stay for -Madame Eleanore. Of Eleanore herself there -were no fears. She was too strong to cause -any one anxiety for her health. Indeed, it was -generally thought that she had put Gerault too -much away. How that may be is not certain; -but there was nothing now in the Castle to -speak of him. The chapel was empty; the -mouth of the great vault had closed once -more, this time to hide under its grim weight -the last of the line of Crépuscule.</p> - -<div class='footnote' id='f3'> -<p class='c014'><a href='#r3'>3</a>. “He shall uphold the rights of the weaker, such as orphans, -damsels, and widows.”</p> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>On the second day after the funeral, Eleanore, -knowing by bitter experience how excellent a -cure for melancholy is hard work, betook herself -and the demoiselles up to the spinning-room -as usual. Lenore only, of the company, -was missing. She, by madame’s own bidding, -still kept her bed,—lying there silent, patient, -asking no attendance from any one; listening -hour by hour to the soft sound of the sea as it -broke upon the cliffs far below her window. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>Of what was in her heart, what things she saw -in her day dreams, neither Alixe nor madame -sought to learn. But there was something in -her face, thin, wan, transparent as it had grown, -that sent a great fear to Eleanore’s heart, and -caused her to watch over Lenore with deep -anxiety; and it seemed as if the effort of walking -would break the last vestige of strength in -that frail body.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Through the first day of return to the old -routine, madame was fully occupied in making -a pretence at cheerfulness and in inducing those -around her to hide their sadness. But afterwards, -when chatter and smiles began to come -naturally back to the young lips, and the gayety -of youth to shine from their eyes again, she -suddenly relaxed her strain, and let her mind -sink into what depths it would. How dim -with misery was the September air! Hope -had gone out of her life; and the thought of -joy was a mockery. Throughout her whole -world there was not a single spot of brightness -on which to feast her tired eyes. Even -imagination had fled, and there remained to -her only a vista of unending, monotonous -days, the one so like the other that she should -<span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span>soon forget the passage of time. And this -future was inevitable. Le Crépuscule was -here, and she must keep to it. She had no -other refuge save a nunnery; and that merest -suggestion was terrible to her. Gerault’s -widow, the young Lenore, was left; yet she -would be infinitely happier to go back to the -home of her youth. There was a cry of despair -in Eleanore’s heart at this realization, -and she fought with herself for a long time -before finally she was wrought to the point of -going to Lenore and counselling her return to -her father’s roof. Yet Eleanore brought herself -to this; for she felt that this last sacrifice -was one of duty: that she had no right -forever to shut the youth and beauty of -the young life into the grim shadows of Le -Crépuscule.</p> - -<p class='c014'>On the evening of the third day of her new -struggle Eleanore went, with woe in her heart, -to the door of Lenore’s room. The apartment -was flooded with the light of sunset, so that -Lenore, lying in the very midst of it, seemed -to be resting in a sea of glowing gold. When -Eleanore entered, the young girl turned, with -a little smile of pleasure, and said,—</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>“Thou’rt very kind to come to me here -while I lie thus in idlesse. Indeed, I see not -how thou shouldst bear with me that I do -nothing when all the Castle is at work.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Bear with thee! My child, thou hast -given us nothing to bear. Thou hast rather -brought into the Castle a light that will burn -always in our hearts. And, in thy great grief, -thou shalt get what comfort may be for thee -from whatever thou canst find. Now, indeed, -dear child, I am come to make a pleading -that breaketh my heart; yet we have done so -much wrong to thy fair young life, that it is -not in me further to blight it.” She went over -to the bedside, and Lenore, sitting up, took -one of the strong white hands in her own delicate -fingers and pressed it to her lips. Then, -while Eleanore bent close over her, she said -softly,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“What is this thing that pains thee? Surely -thou’lt not think that I could do aught to -hurt thee?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Yes, for this will bring happiness back into -thy heart.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Happiness!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Yes, Lenore, happiness. That word -<span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>sounds strange in thine ears from me; yet -listen while I speak. Gerault, my dead son, -brought thee out of a life of sunshine and -gayety and fair youth into this grim Twilight -Castle; and now thou hast entered, with all -of us, from twilight into blackest night. But -thou hast in thee what is lacking in me, and -in those that dwell here as part of our race; -thou’rt young, and thou hast had a joyous -youth. Thou knowest what I long since forgot: -that, in this world, there is a country of -happiness. Now it is I, Gerault’s mother, that -bids thee leave these shades of ours and return -to thy real home. I bid thee go back again -into thy youth, to thy father’s house, whither, -if thou wilt, I will myself in all love convey -thee; and I will tell thy father how thou -hast been unto me all that—more than—a -daughter should be; that I love thee as one -of my own blood; that I am sore to give thee -up—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Madame! Madame Eleanore! Thou must -not give me up! Surely thou wilt not!” -Lenore turned a quivering face up to the -other; and madame read her expression with -deep amazement.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span>“Give thee up! Do I not tell thee that at -the thought my heart is like to break? Nay, -thou’rt my daughter always; and when thou -wilt, this is thy home. Yet for the sake of -thy youth—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Madame—” Lenore sat up straighter, and -looked suddenly off to the windows of her -room, her face by turns gone deathly white and -rosy red: “madame, this Twilight Castle is -my double home. Here dwelt Gerault, my -beloved lord, and—and here shall dwell his -child—the child that is to be born to me—the -new Lord of Le Crépuscule.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Lenore!—Lenore!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“My mother!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Then, as the sunset died from the distant -west, these two women, united as never before, -sat together upon Gerault’s bed, clasping each -other close and mingling their tears and their -laughter in a joy that neither had thought to -know again.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'><em>CHAPTER ELEVEN</em><br /> <span class='large'>THE WANDERER</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='c013'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_304.jpg' width='100' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> -The utterly unexpected revelation -that Lenore had -made to madame drew the -two women into a tender intimacy -that brought a holy joy to both of them. That -most beautiful, most priceless flowering of -Lenore’s life gave to her nature an added -sweetness, and to her soul a new depth that -rendered her incomparably beautiful in the -eyes of every one around her. The secret -remained a secret between her and her new-made -mother, and for this reason the happiness -of the two was as inexplicable as it was joyous -for the rest of the Castle. Alixe, standing -jealously without the gate of this golden citadel, -into which she had frequent glimpses, -wondered at its brightness as much as she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span>wondered at its existence at all. Day by day -Lenore grew beautiful, and day by day the -look of content upon her face became more -marked, until it was marvelled at how she had -forgotten her bereavement. And Eleanore—Madame -Eleanore—found herself growing -young again in the youth of Gerault’s bride; -and in her love for the beautiful, tranquil girl -she learned a lesson in patience that fifty years -of trial and sorrow had never brought her.</p> - -<p class='c014'>When Lenore finally rose from her bed she -did not return to the mornings in the spinning-room; -and, since madame must perforce be -there to oversee the work, Alixe took her -frame or her wheel to Lenore’s chamber, and -sat there through the morning hours. Save -for the fact that Alixe could not be addressed -on the subject nearest her heart, Lenore probably -enjoyed these periods of the younger -woman’s company quite as much as those -graver times with madame. Both of them -were young, and Alixe, having a nature the -individuality of which nothing could suppress, -knew more of the gayeties of youth than -one could have thought possible, considering -her opportunities. This jumped well with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>Lenore’s disposition, for her own sunny nature -would have shone through any cloud-thickness, -provided there was some one to catch -the beam and reflect it back to her. The two -talked on every conceivable subject, but generally -reverted to one common interest before -many hours had gone. This was Nature: of -which Lenore had been vaguely, but none the -less passionately fond; and of which Alixe, -in her lonely life, had made a beautiful and -minute study. The two of them together -watched the death of the summer, and saw -autumn weave its full woof, from the rich -colors of golden harvest and purple vine -to the melancholy brown and gray of dead -moorland and leafless branch. And when the -dreariness of November came upon the land, -there remained, to their keen eyes, the sea—the -sea that is never twice the same—the sea -whose beauties cannot die.</p> - -<p class='c014'>This sea, which Lenore had never looked -on till she came a bride to Crépuscule, held -for her a deep fascination. She watched it -as an astronomer watches his stars. And its -vasty, changing surface came to exercise a -peculiar influence over her quiet life. The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span>night of the great storm brought it into -double conjunction with the bitterest grief in -her life; and, with the knowledge of its cruel -power, awe was added to her interest and -her admiration. She and Alixe were accustomed -to talk daily of the lost Lenore, Lenore -herself always introducing the topic with irresistible -eagerness, and Alixe answering her -innumerable questions with an interest born -of curiosity regarding the young widow’s -motive. In the presence of Alixe, Lenore -never betrayed the tiniest tremor of sensitiveness; -and it would have been impossible for -Alixe to surmise how keen was the secret -bitterness that lay hidden in her heart. What -suffering it brought she endured alone, by -night, and indeed she kept herself for the -most part well shielded from it.</p> - -<p class='c014'>From the first night after Gerault’s burial, -Lenore had insisted upon sleeping alone. To -every suggestion of company she replied that -solitude was precious to her, and that she could -not sleep with another in the room. Eleanore -understood her feeling, and, while she left -an easy access from her room to Lenore’s, -never once ventured to enter Lenore’s chamber -<span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>after nightfall. For this, indeed, the young -woman was grateful, not because of any joy -she found in being alone in the darkness, but -because, after she had gone to bed, she felt -that her veil of appearances had fallen, and -that she might let her mind take what temper -it would. It was by night that she knew the -terrible yearning for the dead that all women -have in time, and from which they suffer keenest -agony. It was by night that she pictured -Gerault not as he had been, but as she had -wished him to be toward her; and gradually -Gerault dead came to be vested with every -perfect quality, till her loss became endurable -to her through the hours of her dreaming. -By night, also, her childhood returned to -her; and she recalled and gently regretted all -the simple pleasures she had known, the rides -and games and caroles that she had been wont -to indulge in, in her father’s house. Sometimes, -too, in hours of distorted vision, she -came to feel that her great blessing was rather -a burden; and she would weep at the thought -of the little thing that must be born to the -interminable shadows of this grim Castle, -and felt that she alone would be responsible -<span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>for the sadness of the young life. Yet there -might be fair things devised for him. It -could not be but a boy,—her child; and -in his early youth she planned that he should -ride to some distant, gay chateau, to be esquired -to a gallant knight; and in time he -should come riding home to her, himself -golden-spurred; and then, later, he should -bring a lady to the Castle whom he should -love as a man loves once; and the two of -them would bring the light of the sun to -Crépuscule, and banish its shadows forever -away. So dreamed Lenore for this unborn -babe of hers.</p> - -<p class='c014'>And then again, sometimes, by night, she -would leave her bed and sit for hours together -at that window where, long ago, Gerault had -knelt in the hour of his passion. And Lenore -would watch the quiet moon sail serenely -through the sky, till it sank, at early dawn, -under the other sea. And this vision of the -setting moon never failed to bring peace to -her heart. Sometimes, after Gerault’s example, -but not in his tone, she would call down -from her height upon the spirit of the lost -Lenore that was supposed to walk the rocky -<span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>shore at the base of the Castle cliff. But no -answering cry ever reached her ears, and this -was well; for what such a thing would have -brought to her already morbid mind, it were -sad to surmise. Nevertheless, in the nights -thus spent, this gentle ghost came to have a -personality for her, in which she rather rejoiced, -for she felt that here must be some -one in whom she could expect understanding -of her secret grief. Lenore at night, living -with the creatures of her fancy, was a strange -little being, no more resembling the Lenore of -daylight than a gnome resembles some bright -fairy. And so well did she hide her midnight -moods that no one in the Castle ever so much -as suspected them.</p> - -<p class='c014'>It was not till the middle of November that -Alixe learned of the hope of Crépuscule; but -when she did know, her tenderness for Lenore -became something beautiful to see, and she -partook both of Eleanore’s deep joy and of -Lenore’s quiet content. Three or four days -after the knowledge had come to her, Alixe -was pacing up and down the terrace in front -of the Castle, side by side with Lenore. It -was a blustering, chilly day, and both young -<span class='pageno' id='Page_293'>293</span>women drew their heavy mantles close around -them as they watched the great flocks of -gulls wheel and dip to the sea, looking like -flurries of snowflakes against the sombre background -of the sky. Far out in the bay one or -two of the crude fishing-boats from St. Nazaire -were beating their way southward toward their -harbor, and then Lenore watched with eyes -that dilated more and more with interest and -desire.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Alixe,” she said suddenly, “canst thou -sail a boat?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Why dost thou ask?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Certes, for that I would know.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe laughed. “’Tis a reason,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Tell me, Alixe! Make me answer!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Knowest thou not that, after the drowning -of the demoiselle Lenore, it was forbidden -any one in Crépuscule to put out upon the sea -in any boat, though he might be able to walk -the water like Our Lord?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Hush, Alixe! But yet—thou’st not -replied to me.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Well, then, if thou wouldst know, I can -sail a boat, and withal skilfully. In the olden -days, Laure—’twas Gerault’s sister—and I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_294'>294</span>have gone out in secret an hundred times in a -fisherman’s boat anchored a mile down the shore, -in front of some of the peasants’ huts. Laure -and I paid the fisherman money to let us take -the boat; for she loved it as well as I. Indeed, -I have been lonely for it since her going.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Ah! Since her going thou’st not known -the sea?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Not often. Alone, with a heavy boat, -there is danger.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Alixe, take me with thee sometime! -Soon! To-day! My soul is athirst to feel -the tremor of the boiling waves!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Madame!” murmured Alixe, not relishing -what she considered an ill-advised jest.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nay! Look not like that upon me! I -would truly go. Can we not set forth? -There is yet time ere dark.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>From sheer nervousness Alixe laughed. -Then she said solemnly: “Madame Lenore, -right willingly, hadst thou need of it, I would -yield up my life to you; but venture forth -with you upon those waters will I not; nor -thou nor any other that were not mad, would -ask it.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Lenore frowned at these words, but she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_295'>295</span>said nothing more, either on that subject or -another; and presently the two went back -into the Castle. But a strange desire had -been born in Lenore, and she brooded upon -it continually. Day by day she hungered for -the sea; and, though she did not again suggest -her wish, there were times when the roar of -the waves on the cliffs, and the cold puffs of -air strong with the odor of the salt tide, came -near unbalancing her mind, and drove uncanny -thoughts of watery deaths through her heart. -But through that long winter she betrayed -only occasional evidences of the effect that illness, -loneliness, and long brooding were having -upon her mind; and perhaps it was only the -dread of betrayal that in the end saved her -from actual insanity.</p> - -<p class='c014'>December came in and advanced in the midst -of arctic gales and continually swirling snow, till -Brittany was wrapped deep under a pure, fleecy -blanket. It was the season of warmth and idleness -indoors, when the poorest peasant got out -his chestnut-bag, and merrily roasted this staple -article of his diet before the fire by night. The -Christmas spirit was on all men; and this in -Brittany was tempered and tinctured with the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_296'>296</span>quaintest fairy-lore relating to the season, and -as real to every Breton as the story of their -Christ. The Christmas mass was no more devoutly -enjoyed than was the great feast, held a -week later, on the night known throughout -Brittany not as the New Year, but as St. -Sylvester’s Eve, when all elfdom was abroad -to guard the treasures left uncovered by the -thirsty dolmens. And this, and an infinite -number of other tales, of witch and gnome, -sprite and fay, sleeping princess and hero-king, -of Viviane and her wondrous forest of -Broecilande, were told anew, each year, behind -locked doors, before the crackling fires -that burned from dusk to enchanted midnight.</p> - -<p class='c014'>To Lenore, the holy week from Christmas -to New Year’s was replete with interest; for -in her own home, near Rennes, she had known -nothing like it. Christmas morning saw all -the peasantry of the estates of Crépuscule come -to the Castle for mass; after which there was a -great distribution of alms.</p> - -<p class='c014'>From Christmas Day, throughout that week, -according to ecclesiastic law, the Castle drawbridge -was never raised; no watchers were -<span class='pageno' id='Page_297'>297</span>posted on the battlements, and monk and -knight, outlaw and criminal, high lord and -lady, found welcome and food and shelter -within the great gray walls. This open hospitality -was made safe by the fact that, during -this time, no matter what war might be -in progress, or what family feud in height, -no man was allowed to lift a hand against -his neighbor, and the knight that dared to use -his sword during those seven days was branded -caitiff throughout his life. This law prevailed -throughout the length and breadth of -France; but its observance belonged more -peculiarly to the far coast regions, where -towns were scarce, and feudal fortresses offered -the only hope of shelter to the traveller. -And during this week there was scarcely -an hour in the day that did not see its wanderer, -of whatever degree, appealing for safe -housing from the bitter cold.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The week was the merriest and the busiest -that Lenore had known since coming to the -Castle; and the arrival of the Bishop of St. -Nazaire, on the day before New Year’s, brought -all Le Crépuscule to the highest state of satisfaction. -For many years it had been monseigneur’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_298'>298</span>custom to spend St. Sylvester’s Day -in the Castle,—formerly as the guest of the old -Seigneur, latterly as that of Madame Eleanore; -and though the Twilight Castle always delighted -to honor his coming, on such occasions -it was a double pleasure; for upon this one day -he carried with him a spirit of bonhomie, of general, -rollicking gayety, that roused every one -to the same pitch of happiness, and made the -Saint’s feast what it was.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Since the last home-coming of Gerault, St. -Nazaire had spent a good deal of time at the -Castle, had played many a well-fought game -of chess with Madame Eleanore, and had -exerted himself to lift little Lenore, for whom -he entertained almost a veneration, out of her -quiet melancholy. None in the Castle, from -Alixe to the scullions, but would have done -him any service; and his arrival assured the -feast of something of its one-time merriment.</p> - -<p class='c014'>On this great day the time for midday meat -was set forward two hours, it being just one -o’clock when the company sat down at the immense -horseshoe table, that nearly encircled -the great hall; for the ordinary Castle retinue -was increased by a rabble of peasants, and a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_299'>299</span>dozen or more of travellers that had claimed -their privilege of hospitality.</p> - -<p class='c014'>As Madame Eleanore, handed by the Bishop, -took her place at the head of the table, the -band of musicians in the stone gallery overhead -sent out a noisy blast of trumpets, and -everybody sought a place. Beside madame, -supported by Courtoise, came Lenore; and -again by her were Alixe, with Anselm the -steward. When these were all standing behind -their tabourets, monseigneur repeated the -grace, in Latin. Immediately upon the amen, -the trumpets rang out again, and there was a -great rustling as everybody sat down and, in -the same breath, began to talk. After a wait of -not less than ten seconds, there appeared four -pages, bearing high in their hands four huge -platters, on each of which reposed a stuffed -boar’s head, steaming fragrantly. Two more -boys followed these first, carrying immense -baskets of bread,—white to go above the salt, -black for those below. Then came Grichot, -the cellarer, rolling into the room a cask of -beer, which was set up in the space between -the two ends of the curved table, and tapped. -Instantly this was surrounded by a throng of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_300'>300</span>struggling henchmen, friars, and peasants, each -with his horn in his hand, eager to be among -the first to drink allegiance to their lady. -Madame and her little party in the centre of -the table were served with wine of every -description known to the north; besides mead -or punches for whosoever should call for -them.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Lenore was seated between Courtoise and -monseigneur; and for her alone of all the -company, apparently, the feast held less of -merriment than of sadness. When every one -was seated, and the clatter of tongues had begun, -she looked about her, vaguely wondering -how many times she should, by this feast, -measure a year passed in the grim Castle. -Looking along the table either way, at the -double rows of men and women, Lenore saw -every mouth working greedily upon food -already served, and every hand outstretched -for more, as rapidly as the various dishes -could be brought in. She saw burly men, -roaring with the laughter of animal satisfaction, -drinking down flagon after flagon of bitter -beer. She caught echoes and fragments of -coarse jokes and coarser suggestions; and her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_301'>301</span>delicate nature revolted at the scene. She -turned to look toward the mistress of the -Castle, wondering how madame, who was of -a fibre as fine as her own, could endure such -sights and sounds. Eleanore sat calmly listening -to monseigneur, her eyes lifted a little -above the level of the scene, her lips smiling, -her air pleasantly animated, though she was -scarcely eating, and only a cup of milk stood -before her place. As for the Bishop, he was -unfeignedly enjoying himself. A generous -portion of roast peacock was on his plate, and -a bottle of red wine stood close at his elbow. -His wit was at its best, and he was entertaining -all his immediate neighborhood with such -stories and reminiscences as he alone could relate. -Lenore found relief in the sight of him -and madame, and, pulling herself together, -turned to the young squire on her right hand, -and began to talk to him gently. Roland -listened to her with the reverent adoration -entertained for her by every man about the -Castle; but his replies were a little inadequate, -and presently Lenore was again sitting silent, -her burning eyes staring straight in front of -her, her white face, framed in its shining hair, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_302'>302</span>looking very set, her white robes gleaming -frostily in the candle-light, her whole bearing -stiffly unapproachable. She was nervous and -uneasy, and she longed intensely to escape to -her own quiet room. But there was madame -talking serenely on, apparently unconscious of -the gluttony around her; there was Alixe the -Scornful, merrily jesting with Anselm, who -had forgotten his frowns and his Latin together. -Here was a great company of varied -people, variously making merry, among whom -there was not one that could have understood -or excused her displeasure with the scene. -Therefore she was fain to sit on, disconsolate, -enduring as best she might her weariness and -her contempt.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“En passant!” cried the Bishop, presently, -“where is David le petit? Is the dwarf lying -sick?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Why, indeed, I do not know,” answered -Eleanore, looking around her. “David! Is -David not among us?” she cried.</p> - -<p class='c014'>At this moment there was a commotion at -one end of the room, and presently the table -began to shake. Dishes and flagons clattered -together, and a little ripple of laughter rose and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_303'>303</span>flowed along from mouth to mouth, following -the progress of David himself, who was darting -rapidly down the table, picking his way -easily between clumps of holly and tall candles, -and dishes and plates and flagons, as he moved -around toward Madame Eleanore and her -little party. His costume added materially to -the effect of his appearance, for he was dressed -like an elf, in scarlet hose, pointed brown shoes, -tight jerkin of brown slashed with red, and -peaked, parti-colored cap. In this garb his tiny -figure showed off straight and slender, and his -ruddy face and glittering eyes gave him proper -animation for the role he had chosen to play.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Flying down the table till he came to a halt in -front of madame and the Bishop, he jerked the -cap from his head, whirled lightly round on his -toes, twice or thrice, and then, with a quaint -gesture of introduction, he sang, in a sing-song -tone, these verses:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c017'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“From elf-land I—</div> - <div class='line'>Gnome or troll—</div> - <div class='line'>Leaped from the cave</div> - <div class='line'>Whence dolmens roll</div> - <div class='line'>Down from on high</div> - <div class='line'>To the tumbling wave!</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_304'>304</span>“In darkness I live;</div> - <div class='line'>In darkness I love.</div> - <div class='line'>Yet there’s one thing</div> - <div class='line'>To mortals I give.</div> - <div class='line'>From treasure-trove</div> - <div class='line'>Jewels I bring!”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>With the last words he drew, from a fat -pouch at his side, a handful of bright bits -of quartz-crystal, and, tossing them high in -the air, let them fall over him and down upon -the table in a glittering shower. There was -a quick scramble for them; and then, with an -uncanny laugh, David pirouetted down the -table, backward, guiding himself miraculously -among the articles that loaded the board, flinging -about him, at every other step, more of his -“jewels,” and now and then singing more extemporaneous -verses concerning his mysterious -country. All the table paused in its eating -and drinking to watch him, for, when he -chose, he was a remarkably clever and magnetic -actor. To-day he was making an unusual effort, -and presently even Lenore leaned forward a -little to catch his words; and, in a swift glance, -he perceived that some color had come into -her cheeks, and a faint light into her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_305'>305</span>It made a pleasant interlude in the feasting; -and when at length the little man, with a hop -and a spring, left the table, and came round -to the place where he was accustomed to sit, -he was followed by a burst of enthusiastic -applause.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The gayety that he had excited by his -rhymes and his pebble shower did not die -away for some time. By now, however, the -eating was at an end, and a lighter tone of -conversation spread through the room, as the -footboys brought in two extra casks of beer -and some dozens of bottles of red wine. This -was the wished-for stage of the day’s entertainment, -and if there was any one present that -should be unminded for what was to come, -this was the signal for departure. Madame -Lenore was the only one in the room to go; -but she rose the moment that the table had -been cleared of food, and, with a slight bow -to madame and monseigneur, slipped quietly -to the stairs and passed up to her room -with a relief in her heart that the day was -over.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The last white fold of Lenore’s drapery had -scarcely disappeared round the bend in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_306'>306</span>stairway, when there came a knocking upon -the outer door of the great hall, which was -presently thrust open, before one of the henchmen -could reach it, to let in a beggar from the -bitter cold outside. It was the last day of -the week of hospitality, and perhaps this wanderer -was the more readily admitted for that -fact. It was a woman, ragged, unkempt, and -purple with cold. Madame Eleanore just -glanced at her, and then signed to those at -the lower end of the table to give her place -with them, and bring her food. But the new-comer -seemed not to notice the invitations of -those near by. She stood still, gazing intently -toward Madame Eleanore, till presently one -of the henchmen, somewhat affected with -liquor, sprang from his place with the intention -of pulling her to a seat. In this act he -got a view of her face with the light from a -torch falling full across it. Instantly he started -back with a loud exclamation,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Mademoiselle!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Then all at once the woman, holding out -both her arms toward madame’s chair, swayed -forward to her knees with a low wailing cry -that brought the whole company to their feet. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_307'>307</span>There was one moment of terrible silence, and -then a woman’s scream rang through the -room, as Madame Eleanore staggered to her -feet and started forward to the side of the -wanderer.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Laure! Laure! O God! my Laure!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>As the two women—madame now on her -knees beside her daughter—intertwined their -arms, and the older woman felt again the living -flesh of her flesh, the throng at the table -moved slowly together and drew closer and -closer to these central figures. Nearest of all -stood Alixe and Courtoise, white-faced, tremulous, -but with great joy written in their eyes. -They had recognized Laure simultaneously -an instant before madame, but they had restrained -themselves from rushing upon her, -leaving the first place to the mother.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore was fondling Laure in her arms, -murmuring over her inarticulate things, while -tears streamed from her eyes, and her strained -throat palpitated with sobs. What Laure did -or felt, none knew. She lay back, half-fainting, -in the warm clasp; but presently she struggled -a little away, and sat straight. Pushing the -tangled hair out of her eyes,—those black, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_308'>308</span>brilliant eyes that were still undimmed,—and -seeing the universal gaze upon her, she shrank -within herself, and whispered to her mother: -“In the name of God, madame, I prithee let -me be alone with thee!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Then Eleanore bethought herself, and rose, -lifting Laure also to her feet. For a moment -she looked about her, and then with a mere -lifting of her hand dispersed the crowd. They -melted away like snow in rain, till only three -were left there in the great hall: Courtoise, -Alixe, and lastly monseigneur, who during -the whole scene had stood apart from the -throng, the law of excommunication heavy -upon him. Forbid a mother, starved by -nearly a year of denial of her child, to satisfy -herself now that that child was at last returned -to her? Not he, the man of flesh and blood -and human passions!</p> - -<p class='c014'>Madame stood still for an instant in the -centre of the disordered room, supporting -Laure with one arm. Then she turned to -Alixe.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Go thou, Alixe, and get food,—milk, and -meat, and bread,—and bring it in the space -of a few moments to my room. But let -<span class='pageno' id='Page_309'>309</span>no other seek to disturb us in our solitude. -Now, my girl!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Madame led her daughter across the hall -and up the stairs, and to the door of her -bedroom, into which Laure passed first. Madame -followed her in, and closed and fastened -the door after her. Then she turned to -her child.</p> - -<p class='c014'>At last they were alone, where no human -eyes could perceive them, no human ear hear -what words they spoke. And now Eleanore’s -arms dropped to her sides, and she stood -a little off, face to face with Laure. With -Laure? Yes, it was she,—there could be -but one woman like her,—with her tall, lithe, -straight form, terribly wasted now by hardship -and suffering: with those firm features, -and the unrivalled hair that hung, brown and -unkempt, to her knees. And again, it was -not the Laure that the mother had known. -In her eyes—the great, doubting, haunted, -shifting eyes—lay plainly written the story -of the iron that had entered into her soul. -And there was that in her manner, in her -bearing, that something of defiant recklessness, -that pierced her mother like a knife. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_310'>310</span>It was not the rags and the dirt of her body; -it was the rags and dirt of her defiled soul.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The girl looked straight before her into -space; but she saw her mother’s head suddenly -lowered, and she saw her mother’s hands -go up before her face.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Then came Alixe’s knock at the door; and -Laure went and opened it, took in the food, -set it down on the bed, shut and fastened the -door again, and returned to her mother, who -was sitting now beside the shuttered window, -her head lying on her arms, which rested on a -table in front of her.</p> - -<p class='c014'>There was a silence. Laure’s hand crept -up to her throat and held it tight, to keep the -strain of repressed sobs from bursting her very -flesh. Her eyes roved round the old, familiar, -twilight room; but just now she did not see. -Her brain was reeling under its weight of -agonized weariness. What was she to say -or do? What was there for her here? Her -mother sat yonder, bent under the weight of -her sin. Was there any excuse for her to -make? Should she try to give reasons? -Worst of all, should she ask forgiveness? -Never! Laure had the pride of despair left -<span class='pageno' id='Page_311'>311</span>in her still. She had come home dreaming -that the gates of heaven might still be open -to her. She found them barred; and the -password she could not speak. Hell alone, -it seemed, remained.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Madame,” she said in a hard, quiet voice, -“I have come wrongfully home, thinking thou -couldst give me succor here. But I perceive -that I do but pain thee. I will go forth -again. ’Tis all I ask.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>At the mere suggestion that Laure should -go again, madame’s heart melted and ran in -tears within her. “Ah, Laure! my baby—my -girl—thou couldst not leave me again?” -she cried in a kind of wail.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Mother! First of all, I came to thee!” -said the girl, in a whisper that was very near -a sob.</p> - -<p class='c014'>But, unexpectedly, Eleanore rose again, with -a gleam of anger coming anew into her eyes. -“Nay; thou didst <em>not</em> first of all come to -me! If thou hadst—if thou hadst—ere -thou wast stolen away by the cowardly dastard -that hath ruined thee—!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure trembled violently, and her voice was -faint with pleading: “Speak no ill of him, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_312'>312</span>madame! I was not stolen away. Freely, -willingly, I went with him. Freely—” she -drew herself up and held her head high—“freely -and willingly, though with the curse -of Heaven on my head, would I go with him -still, were it in the same way!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“God of God! why hast thou left him, -then?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>A black shadow spread itself out before -Laure’s eyes, and in her unpitying wilderness -her woman’s soul reeled, blindly. Her voice -shook and her body grew rigid, as she answered: -“I—did not—leave him.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“He is dead?” Eleanore’s tone was softer.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“No; he is not dead!” Laure’s face contorted -terribly, as there suddenly rushed over -her the memory of the last three months; and -as it swept upon her, she sank to her knees, -and held out her hands again in supplication: -“Ah, pity me! pity me! As thou’rt a -woman, pity me, and ask me not what’s gone! -I loved him. God in Heaven! How did -I love him! And he hath gone from me. -Mine no more, he left me to wander over -the face of the earth. He left me to weep -and mourn through all the years of mine -<span class='pageno' id='Page_313'>313</span>empty life. Flammecœur! Flammecœur! -How wast thou dearer than God! more merciless -than Him.” Here her words became so -rapid and so incoherent that all meaning was -lost, and the deserted woman, exhausted, overcome -with her torn emotions, presently fell -heavily forward to the floor, in a faint.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In this scene Eleanore had forgotten every -scruple, every resentment, everything save her -own motherhood and Laure’s need. Putting -aside all thought of the girl’s shame, her abandonment, -her rejection, she went to her and -lifted her up in her strong and tender arms, -and, with the art known only to the big-souled -women of her type, poured comfort upon the -bruised and broken body of the wanderer, and -words of cheer and encouragement into her -more cruelly bruised and broken mind. In -a few moments Laure had recovered consciousness, -had grown calm, and was weeping -quietly in her mother’s arms.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Then madame began to make her fit for -the Castle again. She took off the soiled and -ragged garments, that hung upon the skin and -bone of her wasted body. She bathed the -poor flesh with hot water, and with her own -<span class='pageno' id='Page_314'>314</span>tears. She combed and coiled the wonderful, -tangled hair. And lastly, wrapping her, for -warmth, in a huge woollen mantle, she led -Laure over to her bed, drew back the heavy -curtains, and laid the weary woman-child in it, -to rest.</p> - -<p class='c014'>When Laure felt this soft comfort; when -she realized where, indeed, she was and who -was bending over her; when she knew what -land of love and of tenderness she had finally -reached after her months of anguished wandering,—it -seemed that she could bear no more -of mingled joy and pain. She let her tears flow -as freely as they would. She clung to her -mother’s hand, smoothing it, kissing it, pressing -it to her cheek; and finally, lulled by the -sound of her mother’s voice crooning an old -familiar lullaby, her mind slipped gradually out -of reality, and she went to sleep.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Long and long and long she slept, with the -sleep of one that is leaving an old life behind, -and entering slowly into the new. And for -many hours her mother watched her, in the -gathering darkness, till after Alixe had come -softly in, and lit a torch near by the bed. And -later the mother, unwilling to leave her child -<span class='pageno' id='Page_315'>315</span>for a single moment, laid herself down, dressed -as she was, and, drawing Laure’s passive form -close to her, finally closed her eyes, and, worn -out with emotion and with joy, lost herself in -the mists of sleep.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_316'>316</span> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'><em>CHAPTER TWELVE</em><br /> <span class='large'>LAURE</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='c013'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_334.jpg' width='100' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> -Through the long, chilly -night, mother and daughter -slept together, each with peace -in her heart. At dawn, however, -madame slipped quietly -out of Laure’s unconscious embrace, -and rose and prepared herself for the day. -And presently she left the room, while Laure -still slept. It was some time afterwards before -there crept upon the blank of the girl’s mind -a dim, fluttering shadow telling her that light -had come again over the world. How long -it was before this first sense became a double -consciousness, no one knows. Laure’s stupor -had been so heavy, she had been so utterly -dead in her weariness, that it required a powerful -subconscious effort to throw off the bonds -of sleep. But when the two heavy eyes at -<span class='pageno' id='Page_317'>317</span>last fell open, she gasped, and sat suddenly up -in her bed.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Holy Mother! it is an angel!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>The face that she looked on smiled sunnily.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“No. I am Lenore.” And she would have -come round to the side of the bed, but that -Laure held up a hand to stay her.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Prithee, prithee, do not move, thou spirit -of Lenore! Am I, then, come into thy land? -Is’t heaven—for me?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>For an instant, at the easily explainable illusion -about that other, the new Lenore’s head -drooped, and she sighed. How full of the -dead maiden was every member of this Twilight -Castle! But again, shaking off the momentary -melancholy, she lifted her eyes, and -answered Laure’s fixed look. So these two -young women, whose histories had been so -utterly different, and yet in their way so pitiably -alike, learned, in this one long glance, to -know each other. Into Laure’s deeply burning -eyes, Lenore gazed till she was as one -under a hypnotic spell. Her senses were all -but swimming before the other turned her -look, and then she asked dreamily: “Thou -art Lenore. Tell me, who is Lenore?”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_318'>318</span>The other hesitated for a moment. She had -learned from Alixe, on the previous evening, -the history of the strange home-coming, and -all that any one knew of what had gone before -it; and she realized that any question that -Laure might ask must be fully answered. Yet -it cost her a strong mental effort before she -could say: “I was the wife of thy brother.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Ah! Gerault! Where is he?” Laure -paused for an instant. “Thou—<em>wast</em>—his -wife, thou sayest?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Lenore gazed at her sadly, wondering if the -wanderer must so soon be confronted with new -sorrow. Laure sat there, bewildered, but questioning -with her eyes, a suggestion of fear beginning -to show in her face. Lenore realized -how madame must shrink from telling the -story of Gerault’s death; so, presently, lifting -her eyes to Laure’s again, she said in a low -voice,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Gerault’s wife was I, because—since September, -thy brother—sleeps—in the chapel—by his father.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure listened with wide eyes to these words; -and, having heard, she neither moved nor spoke. -A few tears gathered slowly, and fell down her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_319'>319</span>face to her woollen robe, and then she bowed -her head till it rested on the hands clasped on -her knee. Lenore stood where she was, looking -on, knowing not whether to go or stay; -realizing instinctively that there are natures that -desire to find their own comfort.</p> - -<p class='c014'>While Lenore was still debating the point, -Madame Eleanore and Alixe came together -into the room; and as soon as madame beheld -Lenore, she knew that her daughter had -learned all that she was to know of sorrow: -that what she herself most dreaded, had mercifully -come to pass. And going to the bed, -she took Laure into her arms.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Their embrace was as close as the first of -yesterday had been. Laure clung to her -mother, getting comfort from the mere contact; -and, in her child’s grief for the dead, -Eleanore felt the touch of that sympathy for -which she had hungered in silence through -the first shock of her loss. For Laure was -of her own blood and of Gerault’s; had known -the Seigneur as brother, companion, and equal, -and had looked up to him even as he had -looked up to his mother. Thus, bitterly poignant -as were these moments of fresh grief, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_320'>320</span>there was in them also a great consolation,—the -consolation of companionship. And when -finally madame raised her head, there was written -in her face what none had seen there since -the time of Laure’s departure for her novitiate -at La Madeleine. Then she reminded Laure of -Alixe’s presence, and Laure, looking up, smiled -through her tears, and held out both hands.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Alixe! Alixe! my sister! Art thou glad -I am come home?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“So glad, Laure! There have been many -hours empty for want of thee since thy going. -And art thou—” she hesitated a little—“art -thou to stay with us now?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Accidentally, inadvertently, had come the -question that had lain hidden both in Laure’s -heart and in her mother’s since almost the first -moment of the return. Laure herself dared -not answer Alixe; but she looked fearfully at -her mother, her eyes filled with mute pleading. -And Eleanore, seeing the look, made a sudden -decision in her heart,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Yea! Laure shall stay with us now! -There shall be no doubting of it. Laure is -my child; and I shall keep her with me, an -all Christendom forbid!”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_321'>321</span>The last sentence flew out in answer to -madame’s secret fears; and she did not realize -how much meaning it might hold for other -ears. Her speech was followed by an intense -silence. Laure did not dare ask aloud the -questions that reason answered for her; and -Lenore and Alixe both felt that it was not -their place to speak. In the end, then, Eleanore -herself had to break the strain, which she -did by saying, with a brisk air,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Come, come, Laure! Rise, and go into -thine own room here. I have laid out one -of the old-time gowns, with shoes, chemise, -bliault, and under-tunic complete, and also a -wimple and head-veil. Make thyself ready -for the day, while we go down to break our -fast. When thou’rt dressed I will have food -brought thee here; and after thou’st eaten, -monseigneur will come up to thee. Hasten, -for ’tis rarely cold!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure jumped from the bed eager to see her -childhood’s room again; eager for her meal; -most of all eager, in spite of her apprehensiveness, -to know what St. Nazaire had to say -to her. As she paused to gather her mantle -close about her, and to push the hair out of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_322'>322</span>her eyes, her gaze chanced to meet that of -Lenore. There was between them no spoken -word; but in that instant was born a sudden -affection which, while they lived together, saw -not the end of its growth.</p> - -<p class='c014'>As Eleanore and the two young women left -madame’s room on their way downstairs, Laure -entered alone into the room of her youth and -her innocence. It was exactly as it had been on -the day she last saw it. The small, curtained -bed was ready for occupancy. The chairs, -the table, the round steel mirror, the carved -wooden chest for clothes, lastly, the small priedieu, -were just where they had always stood. -The wooden shutters were open, and the half-transparent -glass was all aflame with the reflection -of sunlight on the sea; for the cold, clear -morning was advancing. Across a narrow settle, -beside one of the windows, lay the clothes -that the mother had selected,—the girlhood -clothes that she had worn in those years of -her other life. Like one that dimly dreams, -Laure took these garments up, one by one, -and examined them, handling them with the -same ruminative tenderness of touch that she -might have used for some one that had been -<span class='pageno' id='Page_323'>323</span>very dear to her, but had died long since,—so -long that the bitterness of death had gone from -memory.</p> - -<p class='c014'>When she had looked at them for a long -time, Laure began slowly to don her clothes. -She performed her toilet with all the precision -of her maidenhood, coiling her hair with a -care that suggested vanity, and adjusting her -filet and veil with the same touch that they -had known so many times before. Her outer -tunic was of green <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">saie</span></i>; and even though -her whole form had grown deplorably thin, -she found it a little snug in bust and hip. -Finally, when she was quite dressed, she sat -down at one of the windows to wait for some -one to bring food to her. To her surprise, it -was Lenore who carried up the tray of bread -and milk; and she found herself a little relieved -that no former member of the Castle -was to see her yet in the familiar dress of -long ago. When she took the tray from the -frail white hands of her sister-in-law, she murmured -gratefully: “I thank thee that thou -hast deigned to wait on me, madame.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Lenore’s big blue eyes opened wide, as she -smiled and answered: “Prithee, say not ‘madame.’ -<span class='pageno' id='Page_324'>324</span>Rather, if thou canst, I would have -thee call me ‘sister,’ for such I should wish -to be to thee.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“My sister!” Laure’s voice was choked as -she raised both arms and threw them about -the slender body of the other girl with such -abandon that Lenore was obliged to put her -off a little. Finally, however, Laure sat down -to the table on which she had placed her -simple breakfast, and as she carried the first -bite to her lips, Lenore moved softly toward -the door. Before going out, however, she -turned and said quietly: “Thou’lt not be -long alone. The Bishop is coming to thee -at once.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure’s spoon fell suddenly into her bowl, -and she looked quickly round; but, to her -chagrin, Lenore had already slipped away.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Left to herself, Laure could not eat. Hungry -as she was, her anxiety and her suspense -were greater than her appetite. Why was it -that Lenore had so suddenly escaped from -her? Why was it that she had seen no members -of the Castle company save three women -since her home-coming? Why was she forced -thus to eat alone? Above all, why should the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_325'>325</span>Bishop come to her here, instead of receiving -her, as had been his custom, in the chapel? -Laure remembered the last serious talk she -had had with St. Nazaire, and shuddered. -In her own mind she realized perfectly the -spiritual enormity of her sin; and, however -persistently she might refuse to confess it -to herself, she knew also what the penalty -of that sin must be. It was many minutes -before she could force herself to recommence -her meal; and she had taken little when there -was a tap on the door. She had not time -to do more than rise when the door opened, -and her mother, followed by St. Nazaire, -entered the room.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Madame dropped behind as the Bishop -advanced, and Laure bowed before him.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“My child, I trust thou art found well -in body?” said St. Nazaire, more solemnly -than she had ever heard him speak.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Yes, monseigneur,” was the subdued -reply.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Now madame came up, and indicated a chair -to the Bishop, who, after seeing her seated, sat -down himself, while Laure remained on her -feet in front of them. Then followed a pause, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_326'>326</span>uncomfortable to all, terrifying to Laure, who -was becoming hysterically nervous with dread. -She dared not, however, break the silence; and -with a convulsive sigh she folded her arms -across her breast, and stood waiting for whatever -was to come. Monseigneur regarded her -closely and steadily, as if he were reading -something that he wished to know of her, -but at the same time he did not make her -shrink from him. On the contrary, his expression -brought the assurance that he had -lost nothing of his old-time sympathy with -human nature. His first question was unhesitatingly -direct.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Laure,” he said very quietly, “art thou -bound by the marriage tie to this Bertrand -Flammecœur?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>At the sound of the name Laure trembled, -and her white face grew whiter still. “No,” -she answered in a half-whisper, at the same -time clenching her two hands till the nails -pierced her flesh.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“And thou hast lived with him, under his -name, since thy departure from the priory of -the Holy Madeleine?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure paused for a moment to steady her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_327'>327</span>voice, and then answered huskily: “Until -two months past.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“And in that two months?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I have begged my way from where we -were—hither.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Thou hast in this time known none but -the man Flammecœur?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure crimsoned and put up her hand in -protest. Then she said quietly, “None.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Monseigneur bowed his head and remained -silent for a moment. When he looked at -her again it was with a gentler expression. -“Laure,” said he, in a very kindly voice, “but -a little time after thy flight from the priory, -I placed upon thee, and upon the man that -abducted thee, the ban of excommunication, -for violating the holiest laws of the Holy -Church. That ban is not yet raised, and by -it, as well thou knowest, all that come in voluntary -contact with thee are defiled.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>For a moment Laure dropped her head to -her breast. When she lifted it again, her face -had not changed; and she asked, “Can that -ban ever be lifted?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Yes. By me.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure fell upon her knees before him. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_328'>328</span>“What must I do? Tell me the penance! -I would give anything—even to my life—yet—nay! -There is one thing I will not do.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>St. Nazaire frowned. “What is that?” -he asked.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Father, I will not go back into the priory. -I will never return alive into that living death. -Rather would I cast myself from the top -of the Castle cliff into the sea below, and -trust—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Laure! Laure! Be silent!” cried Eleanore, -sharply.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure stopped and stood motionless, her -eyes aflame, her face deathly white, her fingers -twining and intertwining among themselves, -as she waited for St. Nazaire to speak again. -His hands were folded upon his knee, and he -appeared lost in thought. Only after an unendurable -suspense did he look again into the -girl’s eyes, saying slowly, in a tone lower than -was habitual to him,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Thou tookest once the vows of the nun. -These, it is true, thou hast broken continually, -and hast abused and violated till their chain -of virtue binds thee no more. Yet the words -of those vows passed thy lips scarce more than -<span class='pageno' id='Page_329'>329</span>a year agone; and for that reason thou art not -free. Ere thou canst be absolved of duty to -the priory, thou must go to the Mother-prioress -and ask her humbly if she will again -receive thee into the convent. An she refuse, -thou wilt be freed from the bond.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Monseigneur—will she set me free?” -asked Laure, in a low tone.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Yea, Laure; for methinks I shall counsel -her so to do. Thou hast not the vocation of -a nun. Thy spirit is too much thine own, too -freedom-loving, to accept the suppression of -that secluded life. If I will, I can see to it that -thou’rt freed from the priory. But that being -accomplished—what then, Demoiselle Laure?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Ah—after that—may not the ban be -removed? Can I obtain no absolution? Can -I not be made free to dwell here in my home -in my beloved Castle,—my fitting Crépuscule?—Mother! -Shall I not be received here? -Have I no home?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“This is thy home, and I thy mother -always. Though my soul be condemned to -eternal fire, Laure, thou art my child, the flesh -of my flesh and the blood of my blood; and -I will not give thee up.”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_330'>330</span>“Eleanore!” The Bishop spoke sharply, -and his face grew severe. “Eleanore, deceive -not thyself. Nor yet thou, thou child of wilfulness! -Laure hath sinned not only against -the rules of her Church and her God, but -against the laws of mankind. Her sin has -been great and very ugly. Think not that, -by brave words of motherhood, or many tears -and pleadings of sudden repentance, she can -regain her old position. The stain of this -bygone year will remain upon her forever. -She is under a heavy ban, and she must go -through a rigorous penance ere she can be -received again among the undefiled. Art -ready, Laure, to place thy sick soul in my -hands?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure bent her head.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Then I prescribe for thee this penance: -Thou shalt go alone, on foot, to Holy Madeleine, -and there seek of the Reverend Mother -thy freedom from the priory. If it be granted, -thou mayest return hither to this same room -and remain shut up in utter solitude, to pray -and fast as rigorously as thy body will admit, -for the space of fourteen days. If, by that -time, thou art come to see truly the magnitude -<span class='pageno' id='Page_331'>331</span>of thy offence, and if thy mind be -purified of evil thoughts and thy heart opened -to the abounding mercy of God, I will absolve -thee of thy sin, and lift away the ban of -Heaven. For meseemeth, my daughter, that -thy sin found thee out or ever thou hadst -reached this house of safety. There is the -mark of suffering upon thy brow, and, seeing -it, I bow before the power of God, that holdeth -over us whithersoever we may go. But see -that in thy lonely hours thou find true repentance -for thy evil deed. For if that come not, -then truly shalt thou be an outcast on the face -of the earth. I will go to-day to the priory to -talk with the Mère Piteuse, if thy heart accepteth -my word.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure fell upon her knees before the Bishop -and kissed his hand in token of submission. -St. Nazaire suffered her for a few moments -to humble herself, and then, lifting her -up, he rose himself and quickly left the -room.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore remained a few moments longer -with her daughter, and then went away, leaving -Laure alone again, to dread the ordeal that -was before her, the facing of the assemblage -<span class='pageno' id='Page_332'>332</span>of nuns in that place that she remembered as -her heart’s prison.</p> - -<p class='c014'>By order of the Bishop, Laure was left alone -all day, and this twenty-four hours was the -most wretched that she had to spend after -her return to Le Crépuscule. On the following -day she went alone to the priory,—not -on foot, as the Bishop had at first commanded; -for the snow was too deep, and Laure too -much exhausted by her privations of the last -two months, for her safely to endure the -fatigue of such a walk. She rode thither on -horseback; and possibly extracted more soul’s -good out of the ride than she would have got -afoot, for the whole way was laden with bitter -memories and grief and shame. The Bishop -himself met her at the priory gate, and he -remained at her side throughout the time that -she was there. The ordeal was not terrible. -Mère Piteuse bore out her name, and Laure -thought that the spirit of the Saviour had -surely descended upon the reverend woman. -As an unheard-of concession, the penitent was -permitted to recant her vows before only the -eight officers of the priory assembled in the -chapter-house, instead of before the whole -<span class='pageno' id='Page_333'>333</span>company of nuns in the great church; and -thus Laure did not see at all her former companion -and abettor, Sœur Eloise, a meeting -with whom she had dreaded more than anything -else. And when, in the afternoon, -Laure finally rode away from the priory gate, -it was with a heart throbbing with devotion -for St. Nazaire and his goodness to her. -Swiftly and eagerly, in the falling twilight, she -traversed the road leading back to the Castle, -and, when she reached home, night had fallen. -Her mother, who had spent the day in the -deepest anxiety, was waiting for her in the -great hall, and, the moment that Laure entered, -weary with the now unusual exercise, she cried -out, “It is well? Thou art dismissed?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>And as Laure began to answer the question -with a full description of the day, her mother -drew her slowly up the stairs, across the hall, -and finally into her own narrow room, which -was to be the chamber of penance. When they -entered there, Laure became suddenly silent; -for the little place was dark and chill, and the -thought of what was before her struck an -added tremor to her heart. Madame read her -thoughts and said gently,—</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_334'>334</span>“Be not so sad, dear child. When thou thinkest -of the fair, pure, loving life that lies before -us, in this Castle of thy youth, surely fourteen little -days of peaceful solitude cannot fright thee? -Think always that God is on high, and that -around thee are those that love thee well; and -thus thou canst not be very miserable. Lights -and food shall be brought; and then—I bid -thee make much of thy solitude, my child; -for there is no more healing balm for wounded -souls. Now, commending thee to the mercy -of the All-merciful, I leave thee.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>In the darkness, Laure clung to her mother -as if it were their last embrace, and madame -had to put the girl’s hands away before she -would bear to be left alone. But at last the -door was closed and bolted on the outside; -and Laure, within, knew that her imprisonment -was begun. Feeling her way to a chair, -she seated herself thereon, and laid her head in -her hands. Burning and incoherent thoughts -hurried through her brain, and she was still -lost in these when there was a soft tap at her -door, and the outer bolt was drawn. She rose -and stumbled hurriedly to open it, but there -was no one outside. On the floor was a burning -<span class='pageno' id='Page_335'>335</span>candle, and a tray on which stood a jug of -water and a loaf of bread. As she took them -in, Laure experienced a wave of desolation. -However, she set the food and drink down -on her table, lighted the torch on the wall at -the candle-flame, and finally sat herself down -to eat. No grace to God passed her lips as -she took her first bite from the loaf; for her -heart was bitter in its weariness. But after she -had eaten and drunk she lost the inclination to -brood; and, overcome with weariness and the -emotions of the day, she hurriedly disrobed, extinguished -both her lights, and crept, with her -first sense of comfort, into the warmly covered -bed. For a long time she lay there, chilly and a -little nervous, but thinking of nothing. Then -gradually her spirit grew calmer; some of the -weariness was done away, and she fell asleep.</p> - -<p class='c014'>When next she woke it was daylight,—a -gray, January morning,—and Laure realized, -rather disconsolately, that she could sleep no -more for the time. Therefore she left her bed, -threw a mantle around her, and went to the -door, to see if there might be food without. -Somewhat to her dismay, she found the door -locked fast, and, having no means of knowing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_336'>336</span>what the hour might be, she thought that possibly -she had overslept, and that she should -have nothing to eat throughout the morning. -The heaviness of her head told her that she -had slept too long; and, not daring to get -back to bed again, she began resignedly to -dress. She was in the midst of her toilet -when there came a tap at the door, and she -flew to open it. Outside stood a kitchen-boy, -who handed her a tray containing fresh bread -and water, and asked her with formal respect -for the stale food of the night before. This -she gave him; and immediately the door was -shut and rebolted.</p> - -<div id='i_355' class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i_355.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic006'> -<p><em><span class='c016'>M</span>other and child were happy to sit all<br />day in the flower-strewn meadow.—Page <a href='#Page_402'>402</a></em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_337'>337</span>With grim precision Laure finished dressing -and broke her fast, meantime keeping her -thoughts fixed on the most trivial subjects. -But when her meal was over, and she knew -how long the day must be, and realized that -there was no escape from herself, she sat down -in the largest chair in the room, let her eyes -wander over the familiar objects, and allowed -her thoughts to take what form they would. -The terrible fatigue of her lonely journey was -quite gone now. Nor was there in her own -person anything to remind her of her recent -suffering. Her body was clean, well-clothed, -and warm, and, in her youth, the memory -of the past terrible two months grew dim, -and instead there rose up before her mental -vision a very different picture,—an image,—the -image of the idol and the ruin of her life: -her joy, her shame, her ecstasy, and her despair; -Bertrand Flammecœur, the troubadour, -in his matchless, irresponsible untrustworthiness, -his incomparable beauty, his fiery enthusiasm. -For, strange as it may be, all the -bitterness, all the suffering that this man had -brought her, had not killed her love for him -nor blackened his image in her heart. There -being nothing to check her fancy, Laure went -mentally back to the hour of her flight with -the troubadour, and passed slowly over the -whole period of their life together,—from -the first days of physical agony and mental -shame through the period of increasing delight, -to the culmination of her happiness in -him and the beginning of its end. Once more -she reviewed their journey out of Brittany up -the north coast to Calais, whence, in the fair -spring weather, they had taken passage to -Dover, in England, thence making their way -<span class='pageno' id='Page_338'>338</span>by slow stages to London. Here, in the train -of the Duke of Gloucester, uncle of the young -Richard, the most powerful man in the kingdom, -the two had passed their summer. To -Laure it was a summer of fairyland. Flammecœur -had become her god, and she saw him -ascend height after height of popularity and -favor. His nationality and his profession won -for him instant recognition, for trouvères from -Provence were Persian nightingales to the -England of that day. And after his first introduction -into high places, his breeding, his -dress, and his graceful personality brought -him an enviable position, especially among -the women of the court. Laure passed always -as his wife, and was adroitly exploited among -the court gallants. She was still too single-minded -to receive the slightest taint from this -life. She was found to be as incorruptible as -she was pretty, and by this unusual fact her -own reputation went up, and her popularity -rivalled that of the troubadour. If this manner -of life sometimes weighed on her and -brought her something of remorse, she found -her consolation in the fact that Flammecœur -never wavered in his fidelity. For the time -<span class='pageno' id='Page_339'>339</span>being he was thoroughly infatuated with her; -and in their stolen hours of golden solitude -both of them found their reward for the ofttimes -wearisome round of pleasures that, with -them, constituted work.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Now, alone, in her solitary prison-room, -Laure of Le Crépuscule reviewed her high and -holy noon of love, forgetting its subsequence, -brooding only over its supreme forgetfulness, -till the madness of it was tingling in her every -vein, and there rushed over her again, in a -tumultuous wave, all that fierce longing, all -that hopeless desire, that she thought herself -to have endured for the last time. In their -early days Flammecœur had been so much -her companion, so devoted to her in little, -pretty, telling ways, so constant to her and to -her alone, that the thought of any life other than -the one with him would have been to her like a -promise of eternal death. It was not more their -hours of delirium than those of silent communion -that they had held together, which -brought her now the tears of hopeless yearning. -All that she desired without him, was death. -All that she had loved or cared for was with -him.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_340'>340</span>At this time came to her the thought of -Lenore; and she had an instinctive feeling -that, had God seen fit to give her that most -precious of all gifts, motherhood, this penitential -cell had not been the end for her.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Three days and three nights did Laure -spend in this state of bitter rebellion against -her lot; and then, from over-wishing, came -a change. Up to this time, in her new flood -of grief for the separation from Flammecœur, -she had driven from her mind every creeping -memory of the day of his change toward her. -Another woman had come upon the horizon -of his life: a young and noble Englishwoman, -of high station. And soon he was pursuing -her with the ardor that he no longer spent -on Laure. This lady was one of the first that -they had met in England, and Laure had liked -her before Flammecœur’s new passion began -to develop. But with her first real fears, -the poor girl’s jealousy was born, and soon it -became the moving spirit of her life. Many -times in the ensuing weeks—those bitter -weeks of early autumn—did angry words -pass between her and her protector, her only -shield from the world in this strange land. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_341'>341</span>Once, in a fit of uncontrollable grief and -passion, she had left him, and for two days -wandered about the streets of London till -starvation drove her back to the lodgings of -the Flaming-heart. Her reception—of quiet -indifference—on her return showed her that -her world was in a state of dissolution. For -a week she dwelt among its ruins, and then, -when she demanded it, he told her that she -was no longer dear to him, and he begged -her to take what money he had and to set -out whither she would, assuring her that she -would find no difficulty in securing some -excellent abiding-place in this adopted land. -Laure took her dismissal heroically. She -knew him too well to be horrified at his -suggestions as to her procedure; and, refusing -his gifts of money, she sold the clothes -and ornaments that he had given her in a -happier day, and with the proceeds started on -her return to Crépuscule. Her little store -gave out when she had scarce more than -reached France; and the last half of the -journey had been accomplished by literally -begging her way from hut to hut, never -giving up the idea of at last reaching the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_342'>342</span>only refuge she could trust,—the place where -now she sat dreaming out her woe.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Through the bitter hours when her old -jealousy took possession of her again and -seared her with its hot flames, Laure found -herself, more than once, gazing fixedly at the -little priedieu in the corner of the room, -where, as a child, she had been wont to kneel -each night and morning. Since the hour she -had left the priory, a prayer had scarcely -passed her lips; and now, in the time of -reactive sorrow, she felt a pride about kneeling -in supplication to Him whose laws she -had so freely broken. In the course of time, -for so doth solitude work changes in the -hearts of the most stubborn, the spirit of real -repentance of her sin came over her; and then, -for the first time in her young life, she wept -unselfish tears. It was only inch by inch that -she crept back toward the place of heart’s -peace. But at length, on the tenth day of -her penance, she went to her God; and, -throwing herself at the feet of the crucifix, -claimed her own from the All-merciful.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Never in her life of prayers had Laure -prayed as she prayed now. Now at last -<span class='pageno' id='Page_343'>343</span>God was a living Being, and she was come -home to Him for forgiveness and for comfort. -Her words sprang from her deepest heart. -Tears of joy, not pain, welled up within -her; and it seemed as if she felt her purity -coming back to her again. She believed that -she was received before the throne, and listened -to; and no absolution of a consecrated -bishop had brought her such confidence as -this, her first unlettered prayer.</p> - -<p class='c014'>When she rose from her knees it was as if -she had been bathed in spirit. Her old joy -of youth was again alive within her and shone -forth from her eyes with a radiant softness. A -strange quiet took possession of her; a new -peace was hidden in her heart; tranquillity -reigned about her, and the four days of solitude -that remained were all too short. She -was learning herself anew; but she dreaded -that time when others should look into her -face and think to find there what she knew -was gone from her forever. After her first -prayer she did not often resume the accepted -attitude of communication with the Most -High; yet she prayed almost continually, -with a dreamy fervor peculiar to her state. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_344'>344</span>She still thought of Flammecœur, but no -longer with desire; only with a gentle regret -for the fever of his soul and that he could -never know such peace as hers. She also felt -remorse for the part she had played in his -life; and this remorse was now her only pain. -She suffered under it; but it was easier to -endure than the terrible, restless longing that -had once consumed her. Indeed, at this time, -Laure’s spirituality was exaggerated; for solitude -is apt to breed exaggeration in whatever -mood the recluse happens to be. But this -state was also bound to know its reaction; -and, upon the whole, it was as well that the -penitential fortnight was near its end.</p> - -<p class='c014'>On the afternoon of the fourteenth day, -Laure dressed herself in the somberest robe to -be found in her chest,—a loose tunic of rusty -black, with mantle of the same, and a rosary -around her waist by way of belt. She braided -her hair into two long plaits, and bound these -round and round her head like a heavy filet. -This was all of her coiffure. When she was -dressed, she stood in front of her mirror and -looked at herself by the smoky light of a torch. -Her vanity was not flattered by the reflection; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_345'>345</span>but steel is deceitful sometimes, and Laure did -not know how much younger she had grown in -the two weeks of her penance. As the hour of -liberty approached, she became not a little -excited. The thought of being surrounded with -such a throng of familiar faces set her aflame -with eagerness; and she waited, literally counting -the seconds, till she should be set free.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Punctually at the hour in which, two weeks -before, Laure had been left alone, her door -was opened, and Eleanore and Lenore came -together into the room, to lead the prisoner -down to the chapel. Madame clasped her -warmly by the hand, and looked searchingly -into her face: but that was all the salutation -that was given, for the ban of excommunication -was still upon her. And so, without a word, -the three moved quickly to the stairs, and, descending, -passed at once into the lighted chapel.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Of all the ceremonies that had been performed -in that little room since it was built, -more than two centuries before, the one that -now took place was perhaps the most impressive, -certainly the most unique. Laure, in her -penitential garb, presented a curious contrast -to the gayly robed Castle company, and to St. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_346'>346</span>Nazaire, in his most gorgeous of canonicals. -Yet Laure’s face was more interesting to study -than anything else in the crowded room. St. -Nazaire, while he confessed and absolved her, -watched her with an interest that he had never -felt for her before; and he realized that probably -never again would he hear such a confession -as hers. She told him the whole story of -her life after her flight from the priory, with -neither break, hesitation, tremor, nor tear. She -took her absolution in uplifted silence. And -when the ban of excommunication was raised -from her, neither the Bishop nor her mother -could guess, from her face, what her feeling was.</p> - -<p class='c014'>When she had been blessed, and the general -benediction pronounced, all the company -came crowding to her to give her welcome. -After that followed a great feast, at which Laure -ate not a mouthful, and drank nothing but -a cup of milk. And finally, when all the -merrymaking was through, the young woman -returned alone to her room, and, this time with -her door bolted from within, lay down upon -her bed and wept as if her heart had finally -dissolved in tears.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_347'>347</span> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'><em>CHAPTER THIRTEEN</em><br /> <span class='large'>LENORE</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='c013'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_367.jpg' width='100' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> -On the morning of the sixteenth -of January, Laure went into -the spinning-room with the -other women, to begin the old, -familiar work. The sight of -that room brought back to her -a peculiar sensation. Long-forgotten memories -of her girlhood’s yearnings and restless -discontents, half-formed plans and desires, -picture after picture of what she had once -imagined convent life to be, crowded thick -upon her, and caused her to shudder, knowing -what these vague dreams had led her to. Here -was the room, with its row of wheels and tambour-frames, -and, at the end, the big, wooden -loom, filled with red warp. Everywhere were -little disorderly heaps of flax and uncarded -wool, bits of thread and silk, and long woollen -<span class='pageno' id='Page_348'>348</span>remnants clipped from uneven tapestry borders. -In a moment this place would be alive with -the droning buzz of wheels, the clack-clack of -the loom, and the bright chatter of feminine -voices. Laure heard it all in the first glance -down the room, and in the same instant she -lived a lifetime here. Before her eyes was an -endless vista of mornings spent in this place upon -work that could never keep her thoughts from -paths where they should not stray. Alas! with -Flammecœur she had neither toiled nor spun.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In neither face nor manner did Laure betray -any suggestion of her feeling; and she found -herself presently seated at a wheel, between -Alixe, who was at the tapestry frame, and -Lenore, who had come to the room for the -first time in many weeks, and was engaged in -fashioning a delicate little garment of white <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">saie</span></i>. -Madame, at the head of the room, was embroidering -a square of linen and overseeing the -work of every one else; and she glanced, every -now and then, rather searchingly into her -daughter’s face, finding in it, however, nothing -that could cause her anxiety; for Laure was -ashamed of her own sensations, and strove -bravely to conceal them.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_349'>349</span>Possibly this scene might have held out -promise of reward to the thinker, the psychologist, -or the humanitarian. Of all these quiet, -busy women, was there one whose dull, passionless -exterior did not cover an intricate -and tumultuous heart-history? The rebellious -thought-life of Alixe was no less interesting, -despite her inactivity, than the deadening sorrow -through which Lenore had passed. Nor -had the early life of Eleanore, with its doubtful -joys and its bitter periods of loneliness, left -any stronger traces in her face than had the -long after-years of rigid self-suppression. She -had nearly overcome her once devastating habit -of self-analysis, by forcing herself to take an -unselfish interest in those around her. But -the marks of her later and nobler struggles with -grief lay as plainly in her face as those of her -younger life. Only, the influence of her youth, -with its rebellions and its solitudes, was to be -found bodily transferred into the character of -Laure, who had, in her infancy, absorbed her -mother into herself. These four women, by -reason either of years or station, had experienced -much in the ways of joy and sorrow. But to -what depths of unhappiness all the other -<span class='pageno' id='Page_350'>350</span>pathetically colorless lives of the uninstructed -and unloved women of that day had sunk, -cannot be surmised by any one who has seen -what strange courses loneliness and solitude -will take. Who knows how great a self-struggle -may result only in a pallid, vacant -face and a negative personality? And what -had they, all these neglected women of the -chivalric age, to give them life, color, or -force? Men did battle and feats of arms, -expecting their ladies to sit at home, to toil -and spin and bear them heirs, and, when their -time came, haply die. So much we all know. -But how much these same women, having -something of both soul and brain, may have -tried to use them in their small way, who has -cared to surmise?</p> - -<p class='c014'>The January morning wore along, and by -and by the fitful chatter became more fitful: -the pauses grew longer; for every one was -weary with work, and with the incessant noise -of loom and wheel. Laure, who through the -morning had been covertly watching Lenore -at her task, saw that the young woman had -grown paler than was her wont, and that the -shadows under her eyes had deepened till their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_351'>351</span>effect against her pallor was startling. Gradually -Lenore’s hands moved more slowly. She -would pause for a moment, and then, with a -slight start, return to her work with so conscious -an effort that Laure was more than once -on the point of crying to her to stop. Presently, -however, Lenore herself looked toward -madame’s chair with an appeal in her eyes -and a faintly murmured word on her lips.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore glanced at her, and then rose at -once and went over to her side. “Why didst -thou not speak sooner? Go quickly to thy -room and lie down. Shall I send Alixe with -thee?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nay! Let me rather be alone!” And -Lenore, hastily gathering her work into her -arms, slipped from her place and was gone -from the room.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The little scene caused no comment. Only -Laure, who was not accustomed to the sight -of Lenore’s transparent skin and almost startling -frailty, sat thinking about her after she -was gone. How forlorn must be her poor -existence! If she had greatly loved Gerault,—and -surely any maiden would have loved him,—how -gray her world must have become! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_352'>352</span>how without hope her life! Laure lost herself -completely in a revery of Lenore’s sorrows, -and forgot, for the time, how weary she herself -was: how her foot ached with treading the -wheel, and how irritated were her finger-tips -with the long unaccustomed manipulation of -thread. But it came as an intense relief when -she heard her mother say softly,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Go thou, Laure, to thy sister’s room. -Make her comfortable, if thou canst. Take -the wheel also with thee and finish thy skein -there.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nay, madame. The whirl of the wheel is -distressing to Lenore; I saw it while she sat -here. I will finish after noon if thou wilt, -but Lenore must not be disturbed.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Madame nodded to her, and Laure slipped -away, not noticing how Alixe’s eyes followed -her, or what disappointment was written in her -face. For hitherto this ministering to Lenore -had fallen to Alixe’s share, and it had been the -proudest pleasure of her life.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Lenore was lying upon her bed, which, -some weeks previously, had been moved over -close beside the windows of her room, that she -might always have a view of the sea. When -<span class='pageno' id='Page_353'>353</span>Laure entered, she scarcely moved, and her -great eyes continued to rove round the room. -The new-comer paused in the doorway and -gazed at her a moment or two before she -asked: “May I enter? May I come and -sit beside you?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Lenore smiled slightly; but there was no -actual welcome in her face as she said, in her -usual, gentle tone: “Certes. As ever, I was -idle and unthinking. Come thou in, Laure, -and sit where thou canst gaze out upon the -sea. Look, there is a glint of sun on it, even -through the folds of the clouds.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure looked to where she pointed, and -then came silently over and seated herself in -a large chair that stood between the bed and -the window, in a little jut in the wall. Her -eyes were turned not to the many-paned glass, -however, but rather upon the figure of Lenore, -who was now looking off through a half-opened -pane, through which blew fitful gusts -of icy wind. The two young women remained -here in silence for some moments, -each in her own position, thinking silently. -Suddenly, however, Laure shivered, and then -sprang to her feet, saying: “Thou’lt surely -<span class='pageno' id='Page_354'>354</span>freeze here! Let me cover thee.” She took -up a thick coverlet that lay over the foot of -the bed and placed it, folded double, upon -Lenore’s form. Then, glancing down into -the milk-white face, she said again: “Let me -bring thee something—a little food—some -wine. Thou’rt so pale—so ill!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Peace, Laure! I am comfortable. I lie -thus for hours every day. Ah! for how many -hours in the past months—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>She looked up into Laure’s face, and the -eyes of the two women met, in an unfathomable -gaze. Then Laure went slowly back to -her place, wishing that she might close the -window, but not daring to interfere with her -sister’s desired sight of the sea. After she -had sat down, Lenore once more lost herself -in a reverie, which, however, her companion -did not respect.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Lenore,” she said in a low, rather melancholy -voice, “how is it that thou canst endure -this life of thine,—thou, young and -bright and gay and all unused to this dim -dwelling; how hath such existence not already -killed thee? Tell me, how hast thou -fared since Gerault went?”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_355'>355</span>Lenore turned her eyes from the sea and -fixed them on Laure’s face. She wondered a -little why she did not resent the question, not -realizing that it was the first throb of natural -understanding that had come to her out of -Le Crépuscule. Lenore’s first impulse of -affection toward her new sister had altered a -little in the past two weeks. Since she had -heard and understood the story of Laure’s last -months, the white-souled girl had shrunk from -contact with her whose career lay shrouded in -so black a depth. Yet now Laure’s tone, as -she spoke, and, more than that, the expression -in her eyes, touched a key in Lenore’s -nature that had long been unsounded, and -which brought a tremor of unwonted feeling -to her heart. Quickly repressing the impulse -toward tears, she gave a moment’s pause, and -then answered in a dreamy, reflective way, as -if she were for the first time examining the -array of her own emotions,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Meseemeth that, since the day of Gerault’s -death, a part of me hath been asleep. Save -when, on the night of his home-coming, I lay -beside his body and touched again his hair -and his eyes—”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_356'>356</span>“Holy God! Thou couldst lie beside the -dead!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Ah, was it not Gerault come home to me—seeming -as if he slept? Since that time, -and the night that followed it, I say, I have not -wept for him. Mine eyes are dry. There is -sometimes a fire in them; but the tears never -come. And my heart ofttimes burns, and yet -I do not very bitterly grieve. I know not -why, but my sorrow hath not been all that I -should have made it. I have been soothed -with shadows. I have found great comfort -in yon rolling sea. And then there is also -the child,—Gerault’s son,—the Lord of -Crépuscule.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Yes, the child! Oh, I know how thou -lovest him—I know!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Thou knowest? How?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Methinks, Lenore, I understand the -mother-love. How should I have praised -God had he deemed me also worthy of it! -But I was not. I know well ’twas a vain -desire. But, oh, to hold in mine arms a little -one, a babe, and to know it for mine own! -Wouldst not deliver up thy soul for that, -Lenore?”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_357'>357</span>Lenore looked at her with a vague little -smile. “Perhaps; I do not know. My -babe must carry on his father’s name, and so -I love him. Yea, I will bear any suffering so -that he come into the world; for Gerault said -to me long since that such must be my duty -and my great joy. He spake somewhat as -you do. Yet I know not that eagerness thou -speakest of.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure examined the ethereal figure lying -before her with new curiosity; and under the -gaze of the calm, deep-hued eyes her own were -kindled with a brighter gleam. “Hast thou -not loved, Lenore?” she asked. “Knowest -thou nothing of the joy of living, the two in -one, united by divine fire? Dost thou not -worship God for the reason that there is now -in thee a double soul? Wake! Wake from -thy dream-life! Suffer! For out of suffering, -great joy will come upon thee!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>As she met Laure’s look, a new light burned -in Lenore’s eyes, and the other saw her quiver -under those words. Finally, freeing her gaze, -she said very softly: “I would not wake. -How, indeed, should I live, if I roused myself? -Life and love and the world are hidden -<span class='pageno' id='Page_358'>358</span>away behind the far hills of Rennes. Here I -must dwell forever in the twilight. So let me -dream! Ah, Laure, thou too, thou too wilt -come to it. The fever may burn within thee -still, but time will cool it. Tell me, Laure,” -she added, smitten with a sudden curiosity -that was foreign to her usual self, “tell me, -Laure, how didst thou find courage to run out -from thy dreams in the priory into life with -Flammecœur, the trouvère?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>At sound of the name, Laure flushed scarlet, -and then turned pale again. “Flammecœur! -Flammecœur!” she murmured to herself. -Then, suddenly, she shook the spell away. -“Ah, how did I fall from heaven to hell -and find heaven in hell? I cannot tell thee -more than thou thyself hast said. I was -buried while I was yet alive; and so I arose -from mine own tomb and escaped back to the -world of living things. I was among sleepers, -yet could not myself sleep. After a time fire, -not blood, began to run in my veins. And so, -in the end, I rode away with the Flaming-heart. -And I loved him! <em>how</em> I loved him! -God be merciful to me! Ah, Lenore, how do -they put us poor, long-haired things into the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_359'>359</span>fair world, giving us hearts and brains and -souls, and thereon bid us all only to spin—to -spin, and weave, and so, perchance, kiss, -once, and then go back to spin again?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure was half hysterical, but wholly in -earnest,—so much in earnest that she had forgotten -her companion; and when she looked -at her again, she found Lenore lying back on -her pillows, her breath coming more rapidly -than usual, but her face rigidly calm, her blue -eyes wandering through space, and Laure perceived -that she had rejected the passionate -words and kept herself still in the dream state.</p> - -<p class='c014'>It was well that at this moment there came -a tap at the door. Laure cried entrance, and -as Alixe came in from the hall, Madame -Eleanore appeared from the other door that -led to Laure’s room, and thence through to -madame’s own chamber. Evidently the work -hours were over, and it was time for the noon -meal.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Lenore did not care to descend to meat, -and she asked Alixe to bring a glass of wine -and water and a manchet of bread to her -room. This request Alixe joyfully promised -to fulfil, and then Laure and her mother -<span class='pageno' id='Page_360'>360</span>together left the room, Laure in the throes -of a painful reaction from strong feeling, and -with a sense, moreover, that Lenore was relieved -to have her go.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In this last conjecture, or rather, sense, -Laure was right. But it was not through -dislike of her sister that Lenore was glad -to be alone again. It was rather because the -young widow had been powerfully moved -by Laure’s words, and she wanted time and -solitude to readjust herself from the new and -disquieting ideas that had been put into her -mind. Alixe believed her to be fatigued, and -perhaps suffering; and, understanding her nature -much better than Laure did, she brought -the invalid everything that she wanted in the -way of food, and then left her, believing that -she could sleep.</p> - -<p class='c014'>It was afternoon in the Castle. Dinner was -at an end. Madame had betaken herself to her -own room, for prayer and meditation. The -damsels were all scattered, some to their own -small rooms, some to the courtyard and the -snow. Laure was in the chapel, before the -altar, struggling with her newly roused demon -of unrest. In the long room, off the great -<span class='pageno' id='Page_361'>361</span>hall, was Courtoise, seated in Gerault’s old -place, before a reading-desk, with an illuminated -parchment before him. It was part of -“The Romant de la Rose,” and he was reading -the passage descriptive of the garden of <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Déduit</span></i>. -Although nothing, perhaps, could be found -in the literature of that day better fitted to -appeal to a dweller of Le Crépuscule, the -mind of the dark-browed Courtoise was not -very securely fixed upon his book. His eyes -rested steadily on one word; his forehead was -puckered, and there was an expression on his -face which, had he been a maid, would likely -have portended tears. Courtoise was not a -man to weep; but he had lately fallen recklessly -into the habit of his former lord, of -coming here to sit with a parchment before -him, as an excuse for brooding hopelessly -on the trouble in his soul. His head was -now so far bent that he did not see a woman’s -figure glide into the room. Not till she -stood over his very desk did he look up with -a little start: “Thou, Alixe!” he said half -impatiently.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Yea, Alixe, Master Courtoise. Thine -eyes, it seems, can make out great shapes very -<span class='pageno' id='Page_362'>362</span>well, but halt an untold time over one curly -letter.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“What sayest thou? Thy words, Alixe, -are like the quips of the dwarf; but thou -hast not his license to say them.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ahimé, Courtoise</span>,” she came lazily round -the table till she stood beside his chair, “seek -to quarrel with me if thou wilt. A quarrel would -be a merry thing in this Castle. For I am -dull—dull—piteously dull, good master!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Courtoise looked at her rather grimly. -“Art thou dull indeed, Mistress Alixe? -What thinkest thou, then, of all of us?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Thou also, quiet one? Well, I had -guessed it. Yet methought—” she paused, -with mischief in her eyes; and Courtoise, -who knew some of her moods, was wise -enough not to let her finish the sentence. -Rising from his place, he went and got a -tabouret from a corner of the room, and, -placing it beside the chair at the desk, sat -down on it, motioning Alixe to the seat -beside him.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe refused the offer. “Nay, nay, Master -Courtoise. Thou shalt sit in the brawny chair, -for thou’rt to be my adviser. Sit, I prithee, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_363'>363</span>and let me take the little place, and then list -to me carefully while I do talk on a matter of -grave importance.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Name of Heaven! Is there something -of importance in this house of shadows?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“There is Madame Lenore,” she said -soberly.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Lenore! Ah, ’tis of her thou wouldst -speak,” he cried, his whole face lighting.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Suddenly Alixe broke into a rippling -mockery of laughter. “There, Courtoise, -thou art betrayed! Nay, I will be still about -it, for I also love her. Now, to be cruel, my -talk is not to be of her, but of myself, even -me,—Alixe No-name. Thou, Courtoise, art -in something the same position in Le Crépuscule -as I, save that thou hast a binding -tie of interest here. Then canst thou not -offer me a moment’s thought, a moment’s -sympathy? For, in very truth, I need them -both.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>With Alixe’s first words, Courtoise had -flushed an angry scarlet; but with her last, his -ordinary color came back to him, and he -looked at her in friendly fashion as he answered: -“What time and thought I have are -<span class='pageno' id='Page_364'>364</span>thine, Alixe. But thou must show me thy -need of sympathy.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Why, let it be just for dwelling in Le Crépuscule. -And—if thou wouldst have more—for -holding no certain place here. There was -a time, after Laure had gone away, and when -the Seigneur was in Rennes, that I was really -wanted. I brought comfort to madame, and I -know she loved me well. And also, since -Madame Lenore was widowed, I have been -sometimes a companion to her. But now there -are two daughters here. Madame’s life is full -with them; and my place in Le Crépuscule is -only one of tolerance. Therefore—lend thine -ear closely, Courtoise—I would go away, I, -Alixe No-name, out into the world, to see if -there be not a fortune hidden for me beyond -the eastern hills. I would go to Rennes, or -even farther, to try what city life might be; -yet I would not have the trouble of explanation -and protests and insistence, and finally of -farewell, with the dwellers here. Rather, I -would just steal away, some night, nor return -again hither evermore. What say you, -Courtoise? Think you that that wish is all -ingratitude?”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_365'>365</span>It was some moments before Courtoise replied. -His face was a little turned from Alixe, -but she could see that his brow was knit in -thought. At length he answered her: “Nay, -Alixe, thy wish is not ingratitude. Rather, indeed, -I have sometimes thought that Madame -Eleanore showed something of ingratitude toward -thee; for thou wast a daughter to her in -her sorrow; and since the return of mademoiselle, -I have seen thee many a time set aside.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“If thou wouldst fare forth into the world—well, -Alixe, the world is a wide place, and many -dangers lurk therein. Yet thou art stout of -heart, and strong enow in body, and methinks -there are few like thee that would of choice -dwell in such a place as this. I myself, were -it only not for— Ah, well, if thou wouldst go -forth and make thy way at once to Rennes, depart -not now in the winter season. Thou’dst -freeze on thy way. Wait till the spring is upon -us, and the woods are light at night. And -then—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Then thou’lt help me? Wilt thou, Courtoise? -Wilt thou tell madame when I am -gone wherefore it was I went? Wilt thou -give her messages of faithful love? Wilt—”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_366'>366</span>“Wait, wait! Ask no more than that,” he -said, smiling thoughtfully. “When the days -are warmer and the spring is in the leaf, when -the blood flows fast through the veins, and the -head burns with new life—” he drew a sudden, -quick breath, and Alixe, looking upon him -with new interest, said quickly and softly:</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Then come thou, also, Courtoise, out into -the wide world! Let us together go forth to -seek our fortunes. Thou’lt find me not too -weak a comrade, I promise.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Courtoise’s smile vanished, and he shook his -head, a look of sadness stealing into his eyes: -“Think you, Alixe, that after the death of -my well-loved lord I should have stayed in -this Castle to grow gray and mouldy ere my -time, had it not held for me a trust so sacred -that I could not give it up?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Lenore,” murmured Alixe, gently.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Thou knowest it. Since the first day that -she came home with the Seigneur, I knew that -here she would sadly need a friend; and indeed -she hath been my very saint. I have worshipped -her more as an angel than as a woman, -in her purity; and my heart hath all but broken -for the great sadness of her life here. And if by -<span class='pageno' id='Page_367'>367</span>remaining I can serve her in any way, in thought -or in deed; if it giveth her comfort to have -me in the Castle, I would sooner cut off my -hand than leave her here alone. I feel also -that my lord knoweth that I am faithful to the -trust he left with me; and I would not forfeit -his dead thanks. Therefore, Alixe, ask me -not to return into the world with thee or with -another.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>While he spoke, Alixe had watched him -fixedly, and had seen no suspicion either in -tone or in face of a deeper feeling for Lenore -than he had confessed. Now she sighed -quietly, and said in a gentle voice: “Courtoise, -I think thou shouldst not mourn that thou’rt -to dwell here; for thou hast thy trust, and -thou hast some one to serve, always. Therefore -fear nothing, and give thanks to God; -for with Lenore in thy world—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Alas, alas, Alixe, there is that fear in me! -Should Lenore be lost—should Lenore die—ah!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Low as was his voice, the agony in it was -unmistakable; and now Alixe was sure of all -his secret: that he also loved Lenore as man -sometimes loves woman,—purely. And she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_368'>368</span>could find no words to say to him when the -usually self-contained and tranquil man laid his -head down on the table before him and did not -try to hide his grief.</p> - -<p class='c014'>It was at this inopportune moment that -Laure, tired of prayers, and still consumed by -her restless fever, rushed in upon the two in -the long room. Her old-time wild gayety was -upon her, and she did not pause before the -position of Courtoise, who, however, quickly -straightened up. Laure scarcely saw it. She -knew only that here were the companions of -her youth, and as she entered she cried out to -them,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Alixe! Courtoise! Up and out with me! -Burn ye not? Stifle ye not in this dim hole? -Courtoise, is our old sailing-boat still in its -mooring? Let us fare forth, all three, and set -out upon the wintry sea! Let us feel this -January wind pull and strain at the ropes! -Let us watch the foamy waves pile up before -and behind us—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Mon Dieu!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Mademoiselle, it is impossible. The boat -lies on the beach; two days’ work would not -fit her for the water.”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_369'>369</span>Laure stamped angrily on the floor. “Something, -then, something! I will get out into -the cold, into the snow; I will move, I will -feel, I will breathe again!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>It was so much the wild, free Laure, it -had in it so much her old-time magnetism of -comradeship, so much the spirit of the dead -Gerault, desirous of action, that Alixe and -Courtoise were drawn irresistibly into her mood. -Both of them moved forward, while Alixe cried -gayly: “The hawks! Come, we will ride!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“The hawks!” echoed Laure. “Run, -Courtoise, and get the horses, while Alixe and -I go don our riding-garb and jess the birds!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Without a moment’s hesitation, rather with -a throb of pleasure, Courtoise ran obediently -away toward the stables, while the young women -hurried to their rooms. In twenty minutes -the wild trio were dashing across the lowered -drawbridge, all well mounted, hawk on wrist, -spur at heel, with Laure in the lead. Down -the road for the space of a mile they went, and -then struck off to the snowy moor. They -rode long and they rode hard, finding scarce -a single quarry, but letting their pent-up spirits -out in this free and healthful exercise. When -<span class='pageno' id='Page_370'>370</span>they came in again to the Castle courtyard, it -was in starry darkness; and not one of the -three but felt a new strength to resist the -dead life of the Castle.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Perhaps, had Courtoise known how Lenore -had quietly wept away the afternoon in her -solitude and loneliness, he had not appeared -at evening meat with air so vigorous, eye so -bright, and appetite so ready. Lenore, however, -was never known to make a plaint; -and she came to table with her cheeks hardly -paler than usual, though her downcast eyes -were shrunken with tears, and their lids were -tinged with feverish red.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Men say that it is one of the irrevocable -blessings that Time should move as surely -as he does. But when the hours, nay, the -minutes, lag away as drearily as they did in -Le Crépuscule that winter, one feels no gratitude -to Time; but rather a resentment that his -immortality should be so dead-alive. Yet winter -did pass, however slowly. In March the -frozen chains of the prisoned earth were riven. -Streams began to flow fast and full. The snow -melted and soaked into the rich, black soil, -making it ready for the seed. The doors of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_371'>371</span>the peasants’ huts were opened to the sun and -rain. Flocks of storks began to fly northward -on their return from the Nile to their unsettled -fatherland. Spring caught the earth in a tender -embrace; and wherever her warm breath -touched the soil, a flower appeared, to mark -the kiss.</p> - -<p class='c014'>To Lenore the spring warmth was as heaven -to a soul newly freed from earth-sorrow and -suffering. Now the windows of her room -could all be thrown wide open to the outer -air. The whole sea lay before her, strewn with -sunlight, and frosted with white foam. She -saw the fishing-fleet from St. Nazaire go up -past the bay, on its way to the herring fisheries; -and then she was suddenly inspired -again with an uncontrollable desire for the -sea. That afternoon she sent one of her -damsels to find Courtoise. He came to her -room breathless, and eager to learn her will; -and to him, without delay, she made known -her imperative wish to be upon the sea.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Courtoise found himself in a dilemma. He -knew that there was a boat at her disposal, for -he and Laure and Alixe had now been sailing -every day for a fortnight. He believed Lenore -<span class='pageno' id='Page_372'>372</span>to be aware of this, though as a matter of fact -she was not; nevertheless he at first refused -her request point-blank. After that, because -she wept, he temporized. Finally, in despair, -he went and consulted madame, who was horrified -at the idea. Lenore still insisted, appealed -to every one in the Castle, from Alixe and Laure -to the very scullions. Finding herself repulsed -on every hand and powerless to act of her own -accord, she became, all at once, utterly irresponsible, -and made a scene that threatened -to end everything with her. Half unbalanced -by months of illness and lonely brooding, and -tortured by this morbid and unreasonable -fancy, she wept and screamed and raved, and -threw herself about her bed, till she was in -a state of complete exhaustion, and every one -in the Castle awaited the result of her paroxysm -with unconcealed distress.</p> - -<p class='c014'>After this time she did not leave her bed. -She was very weak, and she seemed to have -lost all ambition and all desire to move or even -to speak. Her days she spent in silent moodiness, -her nights in tossing feverishly about the -bed. She seemed to take no notice of the -little attentions so tenderly showered upon her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_373'>373</span>by every one; except that she was pleased to -see the little spring flowers, tender pink bells -and anemones, that David and Courtoise spent -hours in gathering at the edge of the forest on -the St. Nazaire road. Upon these she smiled, -and for many days kept a bouquet of them at -her side, carrying them often to her lips. But -after a little while she grew impatient of these -simple flowers, and began to plead for violets, -which no one in the world could find in Brittany -before May. Courtoise brooded for two -days over his inability to supply her want, and -every one condoled her. Indeed, her own condition -was not more pathetic than that of the -Castle household in their eagerness for her -welfare and her happiness, and for the welfare -of that other precious soul that was in her -keeping. Madame prayed night and morning -for the heir of Le Crépuscule. Laure sewed -for him, talked of him, dreamed of him, and -bitterly envied Lenore. And now there was -no whisper in the Castle that was not understood -to pertain to “the little lord.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>At last there came an April twilight when -the glow of the sunset was growing dim beneath -the lowering veil of night. Lenore had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_374'>374</span>passed an unusually quiet day, and was now -lying in her bed, quite still and tranquil. -That afternoon David had been admitted to -her presence, and had amused her with tales -from the fairy-lore of Brittany, which she -dearly loved. Now he was gone, and Madame -Eleanore sat in her room beside the bed. -The two had been silent for some time when -Lenore’s eyes opened, and she said softly,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Madame, hast ever thought that there -might be a daughter of Le Crépuscule? That -is what I believe.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“God forbid!” exclaimed Eleanore, involuntarily. -Then, as Lenore turned a white, -half-resentful face toward her, madame went -on hurriedly: “There must be no more -daughters of this house, Lenore. ’Tis what -I could scarcely bear,—to see another maiden -grow up in this endless twilight—” Her -voice trailed off into silence, and then, for a -long time, the women were still together, -thinking.</p> - -<p class='c014'>A tear or two stole from Lenore’s eyes and -meandered down her cheek to the folds of her -white gown; but her weeping was noiseless. -The evening darkened. A sweet, rich breath -<span class='pageno' id='Page_375'>375</span>of spring blew softly in from off the sea. -Finally, one by one, the jewels of night began -to gleam out from the sky. Each woman, -unknown to the other, was offering up a -prayer. And it was in the midst of this quiet -scene that Lenore started suddenly up, knowing -that her agony had begun.</p> - -<p class='c014'>No one in Le Crépuscule slept that night. -Laure was called to help her mother; and the -three women were alone in the bedroom of -dead Gerault. The demoiselles, all dressed, -had assembled in the spinning-room, and clustered -there in the torchlight, whispering nervously -together, and listening with strained ears -for any sounds coming from Madame Lenore’s -bedchamber. In the hall below were a company -of servants, women and men, and a half-dozen -henchmen, who quaffed occasional flagons -of beer, but spoke not a word through the -hours. David and Alixe sat in a corner playing -at chess together; and a wondrous game -it was, for neither knew when the other was -in check, nor paid attention to a queen in -jeopardy. Lastly, Courtoise was there, pacing -up and down the hall, his hands clenched -behind him, and the beads of sweat rolling off -<span class='pageno' id='Page_376'>376</span>his face. And how many miles he walked that -night, he never knew.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The hours passed solemnly away, and there -was no sign from the holy room above. Time -dragged by, slowly and yet more slowly, till -the hours became as years; and it seemed that -ages had gone when finally the dawn came -creeping from beyond the distant hills, and a -pale light glimmered across the moving waters. -By the time the torches were flaring high in -their mingling with the daybreak, there came, -from above, the sound of a door softly opening -and then closing again. In the hall below, no -one breathed. Courtoise paused beside a table, -and trembled and shook with cold. Alixe, -very pale and white, moved slowly toward -the stairs. There was a faint sound of rustling -garments across the stones of the upper -hall, and then, descending step by step in the -wavering light, came Laure, great-eyed and -deathly white, after the night’s terrible toil. -She came alone, carrying nothing in her arms; -and on the fifth step from the floor she stopped -still, and looked down upon the motionless -company. Once she tried to speak, and her -throat failed her.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_377'>377</span>“Mademoiselle—in the name of God!” -pleaded Courtoise, hoarsely.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure trembled a little. “Good friends,” she -said, “Madame Lenore is safely delivered; and -there is—a new daughter in Le Crépuscule.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_378'>378</span> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'><em>CHAPTER FOURTEEN</em><br /> <span class='large'>ELEANORE</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='c013'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_398.jpg' width='100' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> -When Laure, her message -given, started back upstairs -again, Alixe was at her side. -At Lenore’s door they both -stopped, till madame opened -it. Laure entered the room -at once, but Eleanore shook her head at the -maiden, and bade her seek her rest. Then -Alixe, disappointed, but too weary for speech, -followed the chattering demoiselles down the -corridor where were all their rooms, and, saying -not a word to one of them, shut herself -into her own chamber. Once there, she disrobed -with speed, but when she had crept -into her bed and pulled the coverings up -above her, she found that sleep was an impossibility. -There was a dull weight at her -heart, which for the moment she could not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_379'>379</span>analyze. It was as if some great misfortune -had befallen her. Yet Lenore lived—was -remarkably well. And the child—ah, the -child! It was the first, almost, that Alixe -had thought of the child. A girl, another -girl, in Le Crépuscule! a thing of inaction, -of resignation, of quiescence; the sport of -Fate; the jest of the age! Alas, alas! A -girl! To grow up alone, here in this wilderness, -companionless, without hope of escape! -Thus, dully, inarticulately, every one in Le -Crépuscule was meditating with Alixe, till at -last, one by one, they fell asleep, each in his -late bed.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The morning was far spent, and an April -sun streamed brightly across her coverlet, -when Alixe finally awoke. Her sleep had -done her good, and there was no trace of -melancholy in her air as she rose and made -herself ready for the day. She was healthfully -hungry, but there was another interest, -greater than hunger, that had caused her so -speedily to dress. Hurrying out and down -the hall, she stopped at the door to Lenore’s -room, and tapped there softly.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure opened it at once, and smiled a good-morning -<span class='pageno' id='Page_380'>380</span>to her. “Come thou in,” she whispered. -“Lenore would have thee see the -child.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe entered softly, and halted near the -bed, transfixed by the sight of Lenore. Never, -even in the early days of her bridal, had -Gerault’s lady been so beautiful. The mysterious -spell of her holy estate was on her, -was clearly visible in her brilliant eyes, in the -rosy flush of her cheeks, in the coiling, burning -gold of her wondrous hair, in the smiling, -gentle languor of her manner. There was -something newly born in her, some still ecstasy, -that had come to her together with the tiny -bundle at her side.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Come thou, Alixe, and look at her,” she -said, in a weak voice, smiling happily, and -casting tender love-looks at the little thing.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe went over, and, with Laure’s aid, -unwrapped enough of the small creature for -her to see its tiny, red face and feeble, fluttering -hands. As she gently touched one of the -cheeks, the wide, blue, baby eyes stared up -at her, unwinking in their new wonder at the -world; while Lenore watched them, eagerly, -hungrily. Neither she nor Alixe noticed that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_381'>381</span>Laure had moved off to a distance, and was -staring dully out of a window. When Alixe -had stood for some moments over the baby, -wondering in her heart what to say to Lenore, -the mother looked up at her with those newly -unfathomable eyes, and said softly,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Put her into my arms, Alixe.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe did so, laying the infant carefully across -the mother’s breast. Lenore’s arms closed -around it, and her eyes fell shut while a smile -of unutterable peace lighted up her gentle face.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe knew that it was time for her to go, -and, moved as she had never been moved before -in her young life, she started toward the -door, glancing as she went at Laure, who followed -her.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“How beautiful she is!” whispered Alixe, -as they stood together on the threshold.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure nodded, but there was no sign of joy -in her face. “Alas for them both!” she said -quietly. “There have been enough daughters -in Le Crépuscule.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>To this Alixe could find no reply, and so, -with a slight nod, she left the room and went -down to the morning meal. Madame Eleanore -was not there. After the strain of the past -<span class='pageno' id='Page_382'>382</span>night, she had gone to her room a little after -sunrise, leaving Laure to care for the young -mother. At breakfast, then, Courtoise and -Alixe sat nearest the head of the table, but -they did not talk together. In fact, no one -said very much during the course of the -meal. Instead of the joyful gayety that might -have been expected, now that their dead lord’s -lady was safely through her trial, a dull gloom -seemed to overhang everything, to weigh every -one down: Courtoise ate in silence, heavy-browed -and brooding, his head bent far over; -David, in no humor for wit, scarcely spoke; -even Alixe, whose heart had been somewhat -lightened by the sight of Lenore and her happiness, -presently succumbed to the atmosphere, -and began to reflect that the last hope of the -Castle was gone, that the line of Crépuscule -had died forever. And neither she nor any -one else paused to think that, if the little Twilight -baby asleep upstairs had understood the -true nature of her welcome into the world, -she might readily have been persuaded to escape -again, as rapidly as possible, into her blue -ether, where pain and unwelcome were things -unknown.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_383'>383</span>When Alixe had eaten, she returned to the -sick-room and, madame being still asleep, insisted -upon taking Laure’s place till the weary -girl had eaten and slept. Lenore had already -taken some nourishment, and the baby had -been fed; and, while the noon sunshine poured -a flood of gold over the world, the mother and -child drowsed happily together in their bed.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe, having set the room as much to rights -as was possible, seated herself by one of the -open windows, and straightway began to dream. -Her thoughts were of her own life, of the new -life that she should now soon enter upon, and -of what would befall her when she should really -reach the vast world that lay behind the barrier -of eastern hills,—that world that Laure had -found, but could not stay in; that world from -which Lenore had come, and whither Gerault -had betaken himself to die. Alixe mused for -a long time, and, in her untaught way, philosophized -over the sad stories of those in the Castle, -and the prospect of a real history that -there might be for her when she should leave -Le Crépuscule; and it was in the midst of -this reverie that the door from Laure’s room -opened softly, and madame came in.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_384'>384</span>Near the threshold she paused, looking intently -at the sleeping mother and child, so that -she did not at first perceive Alixe, who sat -motionless, transfixed by the change which, -since yesterday, had come upon madame. If -there were gloom throughout the Castle, because -of a disappointment in the sex of -Lenore’s child, that gloom was epitomized -in the face of Madame Eleanore. She was -paler and older than Alixe had ever seen -her before. The white in her hair was more -marked than the dark. Every line in her -face had deepened. Her eyes, tearless as they -were, seemed somehow faded, and her manner -bespoke an unutterable weariness. She looked -haggard and old and worn. And yet, as she -gazed at the unconscious picture of youth and -tender love, the joy of the world, and the life -of her race asleep there before her, her face -softened, and her mouth lost a little of its hardness.</p> - -<p class='c014'>After some moments of this gazing, seeing -that still she had not moved, Alixe went to her.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Laure was weary, madame, and so I took -her place while Lenore and the baby slept,” -she said.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_385'>385</span>Eleanore nodded, and Alixe wondered uneasily -if she should leave the room. After a -second or two, however, madame shook away -her preoccupation and turned to the girl.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Alixe,” she said, “none hath as yet been -despatched for Monseigneur de St. Nazaire; -and I will not have Anselm baptize the child. -Go thou and tell Courtoise to ride and fetch -the Bishop as soon as may be, to perform one -last ceremony for this house. Give him my -good greeting. Tell him Lenore is well—and -the babe—a girl. Mon Dieu! a girl!—Haste -thee, Alixe. And thou needst not -return. I will sit here while Lenore sleeps.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe bowed, but still stood hesitating, -near the door, till madame looked up at her -impatiently.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“When I have given Courtoise his message, -let me bring thee food and wine, madame. -Thou’lt be ill, an thou eat not.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nay. Begone, Alixe! Bring nothing to -me. Why should I eat? Why should I -eat, when after me there will be none of mine -to eat in Crépuscule?” And it was with a -kind of groan that madame moved slowly -across to the bedside. When Alixe left the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_386'>386</span>room she was still standing there, gazing -down upon Lenore, who, if awake, could -hardly have borne the look with which -madame regarded her.</p> - -<p class='c014'>An hour later, Courtoise was on his way -to St. Nazaire; but he did not return with -Monseigneur till evensong of the next day. -Arrived at the Castle, the Bishop was given -chance for food and rest after his ride, before -he was summoned to Lenore’s room, where -madame received him. From Courtoise, on -their way, St. Nazaire had learned of the disappointment -of the Castle; so that he was -prepared for what he found. He read Eleanore’s -mind from her face, and was not surprised -at it, but from his own manner no one -could have told that he felt anything but the -utmost delight with the whole affair. He was -full of congratulations and felicitations of every -kind; he was witty, he was gay, he was more -talkative than any one had ever seen him -before; and he took the baby and handled it, -cried to it, cooed to it, with the air of an -experienced old beldame. Lenore, still radiant -with her happiness of motherhood, brightened -yet more under the cheer of his presence; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_387'>387</span>and in her unexpected joy the Bishop found -some consolation for the cloud of misery that -shrouded madame. Indeed, he watched Lenore -with unaffected delight, seeing with amazement -the miracle that had been worked in her, -and knowing her now for the first time as -what she had been before her marriage, when -there was, in her nature, none of the melancholy, -the morbidness, the pain of loneliness, -that had for so long clouded her life.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Lenore was not strong enough to endure -even his cheerful presence very long; and -when Laure presently stole in, he seized the -opportunity that he had been waiting for, and, -on some light excuse, drew madame with him -out of the room.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The moment that they were alone together, -his gay manner dropped from him like a cloak, -and he looked upon the woman before him -with piercing eyes.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Eleanore,” he said severely, “it were well -an thou came with me for a little time before -God. There is written on thy face the tale -of that old-time inward rebellion that hath been -so long asleep that I had hoped it dead.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Madame looked at him with something of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_388'>388</span>defiance, displeasure very plainly to be read in -her brilliant eyes. “My lord,” she said coldly, -“thou’rt wearied with thy ride. It were well -an thou soughtest rest.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I have already rested. Where wouldst -thou rather be,—in thine own room, or in the -chapel?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Charles!” madame spoke with angry impetuosity. -“Think you I am to be treated -as a child?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“There are times when all of us are -children, Eleanore,—times when we need the -Father-hand, the Father-guidance. I would -not be harsh with thee were there another way; -nevertheless, thou must do my bidding.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>She led him in silence to her own room, -and they entered it together, St. Nazaire closing -the door behind him. Madame seated -herself at once in a broad chair near a window, -and the Bishop paced up and down before -her. The room was warm, for the night -air was soft, and a half-dead fire gleamed upon -the stone hearth. A torch upon the wall had -been lighted, and two candles burned on the -table near by. By this light St. Nazaire could -watch Eleanore’s face as he walked. It was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_389'>389</span>some moments before he spoke, and when -he began, his voice had changed again, and -was as gentle as a woman’s,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“This birth of a girl child hath been a grievous -disappointment to thee, dear friend?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Eleanore replied only by a look; but what -words could have expressed half so much?</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Art thou angry with me, Eleanore! Am -I to blame for it? Is there fault in any one -for what is come? Sex is no matter of choice -with the world. Were it so, methinks thou -hadst not now been grieving.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Thou sayest truly, it is no matter of choice -with the world. But hast not ever taught that -there is One who may choose always as He -will? There is a fault, and it is the fault of -God! God of God, Charles, have I not had -enough to bear? Could I not, now that the -end cannot be far away, have known a little -content in mine old age? What hath there -been for me, these thirty years, save sorrow? -With the death of Gerault, I believed that the -world held no further woe for me; but in the -following months hope, which I had thought -forever gone, came on me again, combat its -coming as I would. Yet the thought that an -<span class='pageno' id='Page_390'>390</span>heir might be born to Crépuscule, the thought -that the line might yet be carried on to something -better than this eternal sadness, came to -be so strong with me that I gave way, fool -that I was, to joy. And now, by the merciless -wrath of God, Fate makes sport of me again. -God alone would have been so pitiless. And -am I, a mortal, to forgive the Almighty for all -the woes that He recklessly putteth on me?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>In this speech Eleanore’s low voice had -risen above its usual pitch, and rang out in -tones of deep-seated, passionate anger. St. -Nazaire paused in his walk to look at her as -she spoke; and never had he felt himself in a -more difficult position. Sincere as was his belief, -there were, indeed, things in the divine -order that his creed could not explain away. -He dreaded to take the only orthodox stand,—resignation -and continued praise of the -Lord, for in Eleanore’s present state of mind -this would be worse than mockery; and yet -in this he was obliged at length to take his -refuge.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Eleanore, when Laure, the infant, was first -put into thy arms, wast thou grieved that she -was not a man child?”</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_391'>391</span>“I had Gerault—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Hast thou not loved Laure and cared for -her throughout thy life because she was thy -child, flesh of thy flesh, blood of thy blood, -conceived of great love, and born of suffering?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Yea, verily.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“And, despite her months of grievous wandering -from thy sight, still hath she not given -thee all the joy that Gerault gave?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“More, methinks; in that she hath ever -been more mine own.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Then, Eleanore,” and there was joy in the -man’s tone, “take this child of thy son to thy -heart and love her. Let her young innocence -bring thee peace. Hold her close to thy life, -and give and receive comfort through thy love. -Seek not woe because she is not what she cannot -be. Assume not a knowledge greater -than that of God. Trouble not thyself about -the future; but, rather, take what is given -thee, and know that it is good. Shall not a -young voice cause these walls to echo again -to the sound of laughter? Will not a child -bring light into thy life? Why shouldst thou -grieve because, in the years after thy death, Le -Crépuscule may fall into other hands than -<span class='pageno' id='Page_392'>392</span>those of thy race? Thinkest thou thou wilt -be here to see it? For shame, Eleanore! -Forget thy bitterness, and find the joy that -Gerault’s widow already knows!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Though she would not have acknowledged -it, Eleanore was influenced by the Bishop’s -words; and the change in her was already visible -in her face. Judging wisely, then, St. -Nazaire let his plea rest where it was, and -blessing her, said good-night and left her to -sleep or to pray—he could not tell which. -And in truth Eleanore slept; but in her sleep, -love and pity entered into her heart. She -woke in the early dawn, and, hardly thinking -what she did, stole into Lenore’s room, creeping -softly to the bed where the sleeping -mother and infant lay. At sight of them a -wave of feeling overswept her. She knew -again the crowning joy of woman’s life: she -felt again the glory of youth; and when she -returned to her solitude, it was to weep away -the greater part of her bitterness, and to take -into her inmost heart the helpless baby of -Gerault.</p> - -<p class='c014'>On the following morning, in the presence -of an imposing company, the Lord Bishop -<span class='pageno' id='Page_393'>393</span>officiating, the little girl was baptized. Laure -and Courtoise were the godparents; Laure -feeling that, in being trusted with this holy -office, she stood once more honorably in the -eyes of the world. According to her mother’s -wish, the babe was christened Lenore, -and Alixe guessed wrong when she thought -the little one called after another of that -name. When the ceremony was over, and -the baptismal feast lay ready spread, madame -took the child into her arms to carry it back -to the mother; and St. Nazaire, seeing the -kiss that she pressed upon the tiny cheek, -realized that the cause was won.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Madame Eleanore’s lead was quickly followed -by every one in the Castle; and the -disappointment at the baby’s sex wore away so -rapidly that in a month probably no one -would have admitted that there had ever been -any chagrin at all. Perhaps no royal heir had -ever known more abject homage than was paid -to that wee, bright-eyed, grave-faced, helpless -creature, who was perfectly contented only -when she lay in her mother’s arms.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Lenore regained her strength slowly. Her -long winter of idleness and grieving had ill-fitted -<span class='pageno' id='Page_394'>394</span>her to bear the strain of what she had -endured; and it was many weeks before she -tried to leave her room. Thus, bit by bit, the -whole life of the Castle came to gravitate -around her chamber. It was like a court of -which the young mother was queen, and -where at certain hours of the day, all the -women-folk of Crépuscule were wont to congregate. -It was on an afternoon in the middle -of May, when summer first hovered over the -land, that Lenore was dressed for the first -time. She sat in a semi-reclining position by -the window, whence she could look off upon -the sea, the baby at her side, and Alixe the -only other person in the room. For nearly an -hour Lenore had been silent, one hand gently -caressing the baby’s little cheek, her big eyes -wandering along the far horizon line. Alixe -was bent over a parchment manuscript, which -Anselm had taught her how to read, and she -scarcely raised her eyes from it to look at anything -in the room. Her passage had become -complicated, and, at the same time, interesting, -when Lenore’s voice suddenly broke in -upon her,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Alixe, ’tis long time now since I saw -<span class='pageno' id='Page_395'>395</span>Courtoise. Thinkest thou he is near and -would come and talk to me?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe let her poetry go, and jumped hastily -up. “I will seek him. An he be about the -Castle, he will surely come.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Lenore smiled with pleasure. “Thank thee, -maiden. Let him come now, at once.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe, hugging Courtoise’s secret to her -heart, hurriedly left the room, and ran downstairs, -straight upon Courtoise, who stood in -the hall below. He was booted and spurred, -and his horse waited for him in the doorway. -Making a hasty apology to Alixe, he was going -on, when she cried to him: “Courtoise, stay! -Madame Lenore seeks thy presence. She -would have thee go to her and talk with her -for an hour this afternoon. Shall I tell her -thou’rt ridden hawking?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Holy Mary! Say that—say that I come -instantly. She hath asked for me? Hurry, -Alixe! Say that I come at once!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Courtoise retreated to his room, trembling -like a girl. He had forgotten his horse, which -Alixe considerately caused to be taken back to -the stable, and while he removed his spurs and -fussily rearranged his dress and hair, he tried -<span class='pageno' id='Page_396'>396</span>in vain to recover his equanimity. Then, -when he could no longer torture himself with -delay, he hurried away to the door of her -room and there paused again, remembering -how many times since her illness he had stood -there, both by night and by day, listening, not -always vainly, for the sound of her voice, or -for the little wailing cry of the hungry babe. -And now—now he was to enter that sacred -room, holier to him than any consecrated -church of God. Now he was to look at her, -to touch her hand, to feast his eyes upon her -exquisite face. He drew a long breath and -was about to tap on the door, when it suddenly -opened, and Alixe, finding herself face -to face with him, gave a little exclamation,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Holy saints! I was just coming to seek -thee again. Hadst forgotten that madame -waits for thee? There—go in!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Courtoise never noticed the mischief of -Alixe’s tone, but went straight into the room, -and saw Lenore sitting by the window with the -baby on her lap. She turned toward him, -smiling, and holding out her hand. He went -over, looking at her thirstily, but not so that -she could read what was in his heart. Then -<span class='pageno' id='Page_397'>397</span>he realized vaguely that Alixe had left the -room, and that he was alone with Lenore.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“’Tis very long, Courtoise, very long, since -we have seen each other. Why hast thou -not come ere now?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Madame! Had I but thought thou’dst -have had me! Thrice every day during thy -illness came I to thy door to ask after thee -and the babe; and since then—often—I have -stood and listened, to hear if thou wast speaking -here within. But I did not know—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Enough, Courtoise! I thank thee. -Thou’rt very good. Thou knowest thou’rt -all that I have left of Gerault, and I would -fain have thee oftener near me. Wilt take the -babe? Little one! She feels the strength of -a man’s arms but seldom. Sit there yonder -with her. So!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>She put the tiny bundle into his strong -arms, and laughed to see the half-terrified air -with which the young fellow bore it over to -the settle which she indicated. But when he -had sat down, he laid the baby on his knees, -and then, retaining careful hold of it, turned -his whole look upon Lenore.</p> - -<p class='c014'>She smiled at him, supremely unconscious -<span class='pageno' id='Page_398'>398</span>of the electric thrills that were making the -man’s whole body quiver and tremble with -emotion. Indeed, it would have been difficult -enough to read his feeling in his matter-of-fact -manner. For a long time they sat there, -talking upon many subjects, but most of all -about Gerault, whose name had scarcely crossed -Lenore’s lips since the time of his death. To -Courtoise it was an acute pain to hear her refer -to the various incidents of her courtship in -Rennes; but back of her words there was no -suggestion of either grief or bitterness. She -recalled her first acquaintance with Gerault -fully, incident by incident, and caused Courtoise -to take an unwilling part in the reminiscences. -He hoped continually to get her away -from the subject, to matters now nearer both -of them; but time sped on, and, as the sun -began to near the sea, the baby woke from -sleep with a little cry that Courtoise recognized -with a pang. His hour was over; and he -had gained little hope from it. Yet, as he returned -the baby to its mother’s arms, there -was a smile for him in Lenore’s calm eyes, and -he retreated with a beating heart as Madame -Eleanore and Laure came together into the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_399'>399</span>room, to spend their usual evening hour with -the mother and child.</p> - -<p class='c014'>This hour of the day, the twilight time, the -time of yearning for things long gone, had of -late weeks been drawing these three women -of the Twilight Castle very close together. -Laure, Lenore, and Eleanore, these three, with -Alixe ofttimes a shadow in the background, -were accustomed to sit together, watching the -sunset die over the great waters, and waiting -for the appearance of the evening star upon -the fading glow. And in this time of silent -companionship each felt within her a new -growth, a new, half-sorrowful love for the life -in this lonely habitation. The spell of solitude -was weaving about them a slow, strong bond, -which in after years none of the three felt -any wish to break. Many dream-shadows, the -ghosts of forgotten lives, rose up for each out -of the darkening waste of the sea; and with -these spirits of memory or imagination, each -one was making a life as real and as strong -as the lives of those that dwelt out in the great -world, for which, at one time or another, all -of them had so deeply yearned. Each felt, -in her heart, that her active life was over; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_400'>400</span>and, as time passed, and thoughts began adequately -to take the place of realities, none of -them cared to keep alive the sharp stings of -bitterness or of unavailing regret. They knew -themselves dead to the great, outer life that -each, in her way, had known. Nor did they -mourn themselves. What fire of life remained -with them had been transformed into secret -dreams and ambitions for the future of that -little creature swathed so carefully from the -world, now lying peacefully asleep upon the -mother-breast of Gerault’s widow.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_401'>401</span> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'><em>CHAPTER FIFTEEN</em><br /> <span class='large'>THE RISING TIDE</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='c013'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_421.jpg' width='100' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> -Summer was on the world -again, and with its coming, -melancholy was banished for -a season from Le Crépuscule. -With the first northward flight -of storks, a new air, a breath -of hidden life and gayety, crept into the Castle -household, and, in the early days of June, -broke forth in a riot of pleasures,—caroles, -garland-weaving parties, and hunting. As in -former times, Laure was now the moving -spirit in every sport, and, to the general amazement, -madame, who in her younger days had -been celebrated at the chase, herself headed one -of the rabbit-hunts,—in that day a favorite -pastime with women.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The country around Le Crépuscule was as -beautiful in summer as it was desolate in winter; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_402'>402</span>for the moorlands were one gay tangle -of many-colored wild-flowers. The cultivated -land around the peasants’ homes was thick with -various crops, and the cool, green depths of -the forest hid beauties surpassing all those -of the open country. The stables of Le Crépuscule -were well supplied with horses, for the -family, both women and men, had always been -persistent riders. In these June days the -women-folk, Madame and Laure and the -demoiselles, rode early and late, deserting -wheel, loom, and tambour frame to revel in -a much-needed rest and change of occupation. -Only Lenore refused to take part in the -sports, finding pleasure enough at home with -the child, who was growing to be a fine lusty -infant, with a smile as ready as if she had been -born in Rennes. And the mother and child -were happy enough to sit all day in the flower-strewn -meadow, between the north wall and -the dry moat, playing together with bright -posies, watching the movements of the birds -in the open falconry, and sometimes taking -part in quieter revels with the others. Ere -June was gone, the demoiselles were scarcely to -be recognized for the pale, heavy-eyed, pallid -<span class='pageno' id='Page_403'>403</span>things that had been wont to assemble in the -great hall after supper on winter evenings to -listen to the stories told round the fire. Now -their laughter was ever ready, their feet light -for the dance, their cheeks brown, and their -eyes bright with the continual riot in sunlight -and sea-winds. Winter lay behind, like the -shadow of an ugly dream, and now, of a sudden, -God’s world, and with it Le Crépuscule, became -beautiful for man.</p> - -<p class='c014'>In the first week of July, however, the -period of gayety was checked by the loss of -four members of the household. Two of the -demoiselles of noble family, whom madame -had taken to train as gentlewomen of rank, -Berthe de Montfort and Isabelle de Joinville, -had now been in Le Crépuscule the customary -time for the acquirement of etiquette and the -arts of needlework, and escorts arrived from -their homes to convoy them away. After -their departure, the squires Louis of Florence -and Robert Meloc resigned their places and -rode out into the world, to seek a life of -action.</p> - -<p class='c014'>There were now left in Le Crépuscule the -demoiselles whom Lenore had brought with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_404'>404</span>her from Rennes a year ago, and two others -who had come to madame many years ago, -and who must perforce stay on, having no -other home than this, living as they did upon -madame’s bounty. And there were also two -young squires, who had sworn fealty to madame, -but hoped some day to ride to Rennes -and win their spurs in the lists of their Lord -Duke. For the present they were content to -remain out on the lonely coast, where Courtoise -taught them the articles of knighthood, -and where twenty stout henchmen could -look up to them as superiors. These, with -David le petit, Anselm the steward, Alixe, -Courtoise, and a young peasant woman, who -had come to foster the infant of Madame -Lenore, comprised the attendants of the three -ladies of Crépuscule. It was a well-knit little -company, and one so accustomed to the quiet -life, that none of them save only one desired -better things.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Of the mood of Alixe during these summer -months, much might be said. Throughout -the spring she had been in a state of hot -desire for what was not in Le Crépuscule. -She was filled with unrest; but her plans -<span class='pageno' id='Page_405'>405</span>were too vague, too indefinite, for immediate -action. Strong as was the will that would -have carried her through any difficulty that -lay not in the condition of her heart, she -was still, after nearly six months of dreaming -and debating, in Le Crépuscule. Still she labored -through the long, dull mornings; and -still, through the afternoons, she drifted about -through moving seas of doubt and yearning. -She longed for the world, but she could not -give up Le Crépuscule, and those whom it -held. Here was her problem,—which way to -turn. She felt that another such winter as -she had just passed would drive her senses -from her; but she knew that anywhere outside -Le Crépuscule the visions of three faces, -the fair, sad faces of her ladies, would haunt -her by day and by night till she should return -to them at last. She carried her struggle -always with her, and at length it drove her to -seek an old-time solitude. She began to spend -her afternoons in a cave in the great cliff north -of that on which the Castle stood. This cave -had been formed by the action of the water, -and it stretched in cavernous darkness far into -the wall of rock,—much farther than Alixe -<span class='pageno' id='Page_406'>406</span>had ever dared to go. Near the entrance, -four or five feet above the tide-washed floor, -was a little ledge where she was accustomed to -sit till the rising water drove her to the upper -shore. Tides, in Brittany, are proverbially -high; and at full tide the top of the cave’s -opening was scarcely visible above the water; -so it behooved Alixe to restrain herself from -sleep while she lay therein, meditating on her -other life.</p> - -<p class='c014'>On the 19th of July the tide was at low ebb -at half-past two in the afternoon; and at three -o’clock Alixe entered the cave, and climbed, -dry-shod, up to her ledge of rock. Here, as -she knew, she was safe for two hours, if she -chose to stay so long.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The interior of this cave was by no means -an uninteresting place, though Alixe had never -yet explored it beyond the space of twenty -feet, where it was bright with the daylight -that poured in through its jagged entrance. -After that it wound a darker way into the cliff, -and the far recesses were lost in utter blackness. -A spoken word directed toward the -inner passage-way would reverberate along -that mysterious interior till one could not but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_407'>407</span>be a little awed at the vast extent of the -lost passage. The visible floor of the cavern -was a thing of interest and beauty, for at low -tide it was like a little park, where pools of -clear sea-water alternated with groves of filmy -plants, small ridges of pebbles and rocks, and -patches of delicately ribbed sand, where every -species of shell-fish dwelt. At times Alixe -spent hours in studying sea-life in these places; -and certainly, on hot summer afternoons, no -pleasanter occupation could have been found. -Probably others than Alixe would have taken -to it, were it not for the fact that the cave was -the scene of one of the weirdest legends of the -coast, and was held in avoidance as much by -Castle folk as by the peasantry. Alixe, however, -had long been held to possess some -uncanny power over the people of the supernatural -world, for she would venture fearlessly -into the most unholy spots, emerging unharmed -and undisturbed; nor could any one ever learn -from her whether or not she had actually held -intercourse with the creatures whom they devoutly -believed in, and so devoutly dreaded.</p> - -<p class='c014'>To-day, certainly, there was no suggestion -of the uncanny about her as she lay upon her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_408'>408</span>ledge of rock, looking off upon the sparkling -waters that danced up to the very edge of her -retreat. With one hand she shaded her eyes -from the golden glare, and her head was pillowed -on her other arm. Her usually smooth -brow was puckered into a frown for which the -sun was not responsible; nor yet was Alixe’s -mind upon any subject that might be supposed -to anger or distress her. For the moment -she had dropped her inward debate, and -was lazily watching the sea. The warmth of -the afternoon had made her drowsy, and now -the shadowy coolness of the cave soothed her -till her vivid mental images had become a -little blurred, and the sparkle of the water and -its crispy rustle, as it advanced and retreated -over the sand outside, was luring her mind -into the faery wastes of dreamland. She -wondered a little whether she were awake or -asleep; but, in point of fact, her eyes were -not actually shut, when a slender figure came -round a corner of the entrance, and slipped -lightly into the cave.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe started, and sat up straight, while a -high tenor voice cried out: “Ho, Mistress -Alixe, ’tis thou, then? Is’t I that discover -<span class='pageno' id='Page_409'>409</span>thee in thy retreat, or thou that hast invaded -mine?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ohé</span>, David, thou’st startled me! Meseemeth -I all but slept.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“’Tis a day for sleep, but this is not the -place. Is there room there on the ledge? Wilt -let me up? ’Tis wet enough, below here.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Yea; thy feet slop i’ the sand, and thou’st -frightened two crabs. Canst climb hither?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>He laughed merrily, and scrambled up beside -her, his light body seeming but a feather -in weight. She made room beside her, and he -sat down there, cocking one parti-colored knee -upon the other, and beginning lightly: “Thus -bravely, then, thou comest into the cave of the -water goblin. Art thou, perchance, courted -here by some sly water sprite?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>The maiden, responding to his mood, laughed -also. “Not unless thou’lt play the sprite, -Master David. Say—wilt court me?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nay, sister. Thou and I, and all i’ the -Castle up above, know each other in a way that -admits no love-foolery. Heigho!” The -little man’s tone had changed to one of whimsical -earnestness. Alixe made no immediate -reply to his speech, and so, to entertain himself, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_410'>410</span>he took from his open bag two pebbles, -and began to toss them lightly into the air, -one after the other.</p> - -<p class='c014'>For a few seconds Alixe watched him absently. -Then she said: “Those pebbles, -David, are like thee and me. Watch now -which will be the first to fall from thy hand. -Thou’rt the mottled; I the gray.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“And I, damsel,” said he, as he began to -handle them a little less carelessly, “I, who -sit here forever, for my amusement tossing -into the air two light souls, catching them when -they come back to me, and flinging them again -away—who am I, I ask?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Thou, David?” Alixe’s face took on a -little, bitter smile. “Why, thou art that inexorable -thing that men call God. Wilt never -drop thy stones from their wearisome sphere, -Almighty One?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“They will not fall. They return to me -evermore,” he answered; and, after another -toss or two, he let them both remain in his -hand while he looked at them for a moment. -After that he put them back into his bag again, -with a curious smile. “That, then, is our -end,” he remarked, at last.</p> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_411'>411</span>“<em>Is</em> it our end? David, David! Shall I -not leave Le Crépuscule, to fare forth into the -world? I dream, and dream, and vow -unto myself that I shall surely go; and then—I -still remain.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Ay. There are things that keep thee here—and -me too. There is the baby, now, and -its angel-faced mother. And then madame—how -is one to leave her, when she is a little -more alive than formerly? I, too, Alixe, have -dreamed dreams. The fever of my boyhood, -with its wanderings, its life, its continual change, -comes upon me strong sometimes. Here, in -this place, my wit lies buried, my soul grows -gray within me, my eyes have forgot the look -of the world’s bright colors. And yet I stay -on—I stay on forever.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“How if we two went out together, David, -thou and I? Think you the world might hold -a place for us? I would be a good comrade, -I promise thee. I would march stoutly at thy -side, nor complain when weariness overcame -me. We should not have always to beg for -food, for I have a little bag—”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“See, Alixe, look! There below, on the -sand, by that sharp-pointed stone,—there is -<span class='pageno' id='Page_412'>412</span>a gray-white crab. He must be hurt. See -how he fumbles and struggles, without avail, to -reach the little pool ten inches from him. -Watch him; he makes no progress. Now that -were thou and I, thrown upon the world. Oh, -this place is full of omens! I have found them -here before. ’Tis the witchery of the cave.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe failed to smile. This last augury, -though it confirmed the one that she herself -had made, did not please her. She sat silent -on the ledge, her feet hanging, her elbows on -her knees, her head on her hand, watching -intently all the little dramas taking place below -her among the sea-creatures. Nor was David -in a mood to make conversation. So the two -of them sat silent for a long time—how long a -time neither of them knew. The water was -growing more brightly golden under the beams -of the fast-descending sun, and Alixe noted the -fact, but held her peace. It was David who, -after a little while, suddenly exclaimed,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Diable, Alixe! See how the tide hath risen! -We shall be wet enough getting out and back -to the upper cliff. Come quickly!” As he -spoke, he slid from the ledge, landing in water -that was up to his ankles. “Quickly, Alixe! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_413'>413</span>I will steady thee. Come, thou’lt but be the -wetter if thou stayest.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe sat motionless upon the ledge above, -and looked calmly down upon the dwarf.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Reflect, David, how easy it were not to wet -my ankles thus. How easy ’twould be just -to sit here—until the stone should drop for -the last time into the hand of God.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>David stood looking up at her, wide-eyed. -The idea was slow to pierce his brain. “Why, -yes,” said he, “’twere easy enow, easy enow. -Yet when I go, ’t must be from mine own room, -and by a clean dagger-stroke. I care not to -choke myself to death in a goblin’s cave. Come, -Alixe, the water riseth.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Go thou on, David. I can come down -when I will; for I have traversed the way -often.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Come down!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nay, David.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Come down.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nay.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>The water was deeper by four inches than it -had been when he first reached the bottom of -the cave. The dwarf looked up at the girl, -who sat smiling at him, and his face reddened -<span class='pageno' id='Page_414'>414</span>slightly. Then, without more ado, he climbed -back upon the ledge, and sat down beside -Alixe, hanging his dripping feet toward the -water, which now covered the tallest of the -stones on the floor of the cave.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“David, thou must go. Climb down, and -save thyself quickly. Thy slender body cannot -much longer breast the tide.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>David crossed his knees and clasped his -hands around them. “If thou stayest, I also -will remain.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“I beg of thee, go, ere it is too late!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Not without thee.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“In the name of God I ask it.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“We two were together in God’s hand.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Then so be it, David. Sit thou here beside -me. We will wait together.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>The little man did not reply to her this -time, and Alixe felt no more need for speech. -They sat there, occupied with their own -thoughts, both watching, under the spell of a -peculiar fascination, how the green water was -mounting, mounting toward them. The cave -was filled with blinding light from the setting -sun. The roar of the ocean, a voice mighty -and ineffable, filled all their consciousness. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_415'>415</span>White-crested breakers rolled in and broke -below them, and their faces were wet with chill -salt spray. The water in the cave was waist-deep.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe was growing cold. A deadly intoxication -stole upon her senses, and she bent -far over the ledge to look into the swirling, -foamy green below her.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“By the Almighty God, His creation is -wondrous! This is a scene worthy of the -end!” cried David, suddenly, in a hoarse, -emotional tone.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe started violently. The sound of a -human voice, breaking in upon the universal -murmur of the infinite waters, sent a sudden -stab to her heart. In a quick flash, she beheld -Lenore’s baby holding out its feeble hands -to her. Near it stood Laure, the penitent; -and, on the other hand, madame, with her -great, grave, sorrowful eyes fixed full upon -herself, Alixe.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“David!” cried the girl, suddenly, wildly, -above the roar of the tide: “David! We -must escape!—Quickly! Quickly! Quickly!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>As she spoke, she left the ledge, to find -herself swaying almost shoulder deep in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_416'>416</span>fierce, swelling water. “Come!” she cried, -her face livid with her new-born terror.</p> - -<p class='c014'>For an instant, David looked down upon -her with something resembling a smile. Then -he followed her, and would have been carried -off his feet in the water, had not Alixe steadied -him with one hand, while, with the other, she -clung to the rock above her head. The sudden -chill woke David’s senses, and he said sharply: -“We must hurry, Alixe! There is no time -to lose.”</p> - -<div id='i_437' class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_437.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic005'> -<p><em><span class='c016'>H</span>and in hand, by the murmurous<br />sea, they walked.—Page <a href='#Page_427'>427</a></em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c014'><span class='pageno' id='Page_417'>417</span>Then the two of them began their work -of getting out of the cave. David, with his -small, lithe body clad in tight-fitting hosen -and jerkin, started to swim lightly through -the water, diving headforemost into the beating -breakers, and rounding toward the shore -with rather a sense of pleasurable skill than -anything else. But with Alixe, the case was -different. Her long skirts were soaked with -water, and clung disastrously about her feet. -The idea of her swimming was vain; and she -grimly gave thanks for her height. But she -found that the matter of walking had its -dangers too. The bottom of the cave and the -outer stretch that lay between her and safety -was very uneven. She stumbled over rocks -and sank into sudden hollows, continually -hampered by her clinging skirts. Presently -she fell, and a great breaker came tumbling -over her. In it she lost her self-control, and -was presently rolling helpless in the tide, gasping -in sea-water with every terrified breath, and -unable to get her limbs free from their binding, -clinging robe. Alixe was very near death -in earnest, now, and she knew it. Presently, -where a sweeping wave left her head for a -moment above water, she sent one hoarse, -guttural shriek toward David, who had regained -the land; and he turned, horrified, to -look at her. She heard his cry of amazement -and distress, and then she was rolled upon her -face, and knew nothing more till she found -herself lying on the sand, with David bending -over her, whiter than death, and trembling like -a woman.</p> - -<p class='c014'>She was dizzy and weak and sick, and her -lungs ached furiously; yet with it all, she -saw David’s distress, and managed to keep -herself conscious by staring at him fixedly.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Up, Alixe! Up!” he muttered. “Thou -<em>must</em> get up to the Castle. I cannot carry thee -<span class='pageno' id='Page_418'>418</span>there, and here thou’lt perish. Up, I say! -Here, hold to my belt. See, the water is upon -us again.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>With an effort that seemed to her to be -superhuman, Alixe struggled to her feet. -He held her dripping skirts away from her, -so that she could walk as little hampered as -possible; and though she staggered and reeled -at every step, they still made progress, and -were halfway up the cliff before she collapsed -again, utterly exhausted. Happily, at that -moment, David spied the figure of Laure at -the top of the cliff, and he cried to her with -all the strength that was left him to come -down. In a moment she was beside them, -staring in silent astonishment at their plight.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“The demoiselle Alixe had a fancy for -bathing. She hath bathed,” observed David.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe did not speak. But suddenly her eyes -met Laure’s, and she burst into hysterical laughter. -Laure, being a woman, realized that she -was strained to the point of collapse. So she -bade David go on before them and take all -precautions to recover from his bath; and then, -as soon as Alixe signified her ability to go on -again, Laure put one of her strong, young arms -<span class='pageno' id='Page_419'>419</span>about the dripping body, and, sustaining more -than half her weight, succeeded in getting her -to the Castle. Alixe demurred faintly about -going in, for she dreaded questions. But it -was that hour of the day when the open rooms -of the Castle were deserted, when all the world -was asleep or at play, and, as the two crossed -the courtyard and went through the lower hall, -they met no one but a pair of henchmen who -were too respectful of Laure to voice their curiosity. -As the young women went through the -upper hall, on their way to Alixe’s room, there -came, from behind Lenore’s closed door, the -gurgling crow of the baby. At this sound -Alixe shuddered, and through her heart shot -a pang of horrified remorse at the crime she -had so nearly committed.</p> - -<p class='c014'>A few moments later the exhausted girl lay -in her bed, wrapped round with blankets, -her dripping garments stripped away, and her -body glowing again with the warmth of vigorous -friction, while her wet hair was fastened -high on her head, away from her face. When -Laure had removed, as far as possible, every -evidence of the escapade, she bent for a moment -over the pillow of her foster-sister, and then -<span class='pageno' id='Page_420'>420</span>stole quietly away. Alixe made no sign at her -departure. She lay back in the bed, her eyes -closed, her face set like marble, her mind wandering -vaguely over the events of the afternoon. -Gradually her world grew full of misty, creeping -shadows, and she was on the borderland of -sleep, when some one again bent over her, and -the fragrant breath of hot wine came to her -nostrils. With an effort she shook her eyes -open, to find Laure’s kindly face above her, -and Laure’s hand holding out to her a silver -cup.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Drink, Alixe. ’Twill give thee strength.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Obediently, Alixe drank; and the posset -sent a new glow of warmth through her body.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Now, if thou canst, thou must sleep.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe sent a thoughtful glance into her -companion’s eyes, and there was something in -her look that caused Laure to take both of the -trembling hands in her own, and to wait for -Alixe to speak.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Nay, Laure, nay; I cannot sleep till I have -told thee. Some one I must tell,—some one -that will understand. Let me confess to thee.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Laure seated herself on the edge of the bed, -Alixe still retaining her hands. And Laure’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_421'>421</span>sad eyes looked down upon the drawn face of -her foster-sister, while she spoke. “Alixe,” -she said softly, “methinks I know thy confession. -Thou hast tried to leave Le Crépuscule. -Is it not so?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Alixe’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “It -is so. I tried—to leave Le Crépuscule.” -The last she only whispered, faintly.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“But it drew thee back again? The Castle -would not loose its hold on thee? Even so -was it with me. Methought I hated it, Alixe, -with its loneliness and its shadows and its vast -silences. Yet however far away I was, I found -it always before my eyes, or hidden in my -thoughts. Through my hours of highest happiness -I yearned for it; and it drew me back -to it at last.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“It is true! It is true! I know thou -speakest truth.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“And thou wilt not try again to go away, -my sister?”</p> - -<p class='c014'>“Not again; oh, not again! I could see -you all, you and madame and Madame Lenore, -and your eyes called me back. It is my -home, is’t not? I have a place here, have I -not? Ah, Laure, thou’st been so good to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_422'>422</span>me! Shall we not, thou and I, go back again -into our childhood, and dream of naught better -than dwelling here forever in this place? Both -of us have sinned. And now we are come -home into the shadow of the Castle of Twilight, -for forgiveness’ sake.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_423'>423</span> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'><em>CHAPTER SIXTEEN</em><br /> <span class='large'>THE MIDDLE OF THE VALLEY</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_break-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='c013'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_445.jpg' width='100' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> -Alixe had faith enough in -David to believe that he would -keep silent about the affair of -that afternoon, and her confidence -was not misplaced. No -one save Laure knew of the -caprice and the projected sin that had led -them into their dangerous plight. And to -the dwarf’s credit be it said that he never -attached any blame to Alixe for their adventure. -Indeed, thereafter, his manner toward -her was marked by unusual consideration, a -little veiled interest and sympathy, sprung -from a knowledge that their habits of mind -had led them both in the same ways of thought -and desire. During the remainder of the summer, -however, neither of them ventured again -into the Goblin’s Cave; and, from Alixe’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_424'>424</span>mind at least, every thought, every desire, to -leave the Castle, had been washed away. Her -dreams of another life were dead. And, as -the golden days slipped by, the thought that -Le Crépuscule must be her home forever, came -to have no bitterness in it; for she had learned -in a strange way how Le Crépuscule was rooted -into her heart, and how impossible it would be -that she should leave it till the great Inevitable -should bid her say farewell.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Indeed, the Castle had set its seal upon every -one of its inmates. The little household had -acquired the peculiar characteristics that generally -grow up in a secluded community. Every -dweller in the Twilight Land was unconsciously -possessed of the same quiet manner, the same -air of tranquil repose, the same habit of abstracted -thought. And these things had stolen -upon them so unawares that none was conscious -of it in any other, and least of all in -herself. It was a singularly beautiful atmosphere -in which to bring up a little being fresh -to the world. In this place a new soul might -have dwelt forever untainted by any mark of -worldliness, of passion, or of sin; for these -things were foreign to the whole place. No -<span class='pageno' id='Page_425'>425</span>one in the Castle but had, at some time, been -through the depths of human experience, been -swayed by the most powerful emotions, and -known the passion that is inherent in every -mortal. But from these things the Twilight -folk had been purified by long stretches of vain -longing, vain struggles in the midst of solitude, -and that continued repression that alone can -eradicate mortal tendencies toward sin. And -now the women of this Castle had reached, in -their progress, the neutral vale of tranquillity -that lies between the gorgeous meadows of -delight and the grim crags of grief and -disappointment.</p> - -<p class='c014'>There was no one in the Castle that did not -at times reflect upon these things; but of them -all, Eleanore saw most clearly whence they had -all come, and where they now were. Whither -they might be going—ah, that! that, who -should say? But she could see and understand -the quiet happiness that Lenore had reached -through her child; and the increasing contentment, -that was more than resignation, in Laure. -And if she was ignorant of the route by which -Courtoise, Alixe, and David had come into the -kingdom of tranquillity, at least she knew that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_426'>426</span>all had reached it, and was glad that it was so. -To St. Nazaire, who was now her only connection -with the outer world, she talked of all -these things, and found in him not quite the -spirit of her Castle, but yet a great understanding -of human and spiritual matters.</p> - -<p class='c014'>Summer wove out its web over the Castle by -the sea, and at length its golden heat began to -give way before the attacks of chilly nights and -shortening days. The earth grew rich and red -with autumn. Chestnut fires began to blaze -upon peasants’ hearths, and the early morning -air had in it that little sting that brings the -blood to the cheek and fire to the eye. It -was still too early for flights of storks toward -the Nile, and the year, hovering on the edge of -dissolution, was at the zenith of its glory. It -was the time when the smoke from the forest -fires lingers pungently over the land for days -on end, like incense proffered to the beauty -of Mother Earth. It was the time when the -sun rises and sets in a veil of mist that transcends -the splendor of its golden gleams, till, -before the incomparable richness and purity of -its glory, the human spectator can only stand -back, aghast and trembling with awe. In fine, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_427'>427</span>it was that time when, Nature having reached -the full measure of her maturity, she was turning -to look back upon her youth, in retrospect -of all the loveliness that had been hers, before -she should start toward the darker, colder, -grayer regions that lay about her coming -grave.</p> - -<p class='c014'>It was late in the afternoon of such an -autumn day that the three women of Le Crépuscule, -Laure, Lenore, and Eleanore, each -lightly wrapped about to protect her from the -slight chill in the air, went out of the Castle to -the terrace bordering the cliff, for their evening -walk. In the hearts of all three lay that little -wistful sadness that was part of the time of year, -and in their surrounding solitude they involuntarily -drew close each to the other. Yet their -faces were not wholly sad. None of them -wept at the thought of the long winter that -was again upon them. Hand in hand, by the -murmurous sea, they walked, looking off upon -the broad plain of moving waters, each unconsciously -seeking to read there the destiny -of her remaining years.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The hour was a holy one, and there came -no sound from the living world to pierce its -<span class='pageno' id='Page_428'>428</span>stillness. Nature knelt before the great marriage -of the sun and sea. The altar of the -west was hung with golden and purple tapestries; -and the ministers of the sky poured out -a libation of crimson-flowing wine before the -Lord of Heaven. And when the sacrifice -was made, all could behold how the great sun -slipped gently from his car into the embrace -of the sea, and the two of them were presently -hidden underneath the golden locks and shimmering -veil of the beautiful bride; and thereafter -Twilight, the swift-footed handmaid, aided -by all the ocean nymphs, quickly pulled the -broad curtains of gray and crimson across the -portals of the bridal room.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The sweet dusk deepened, but it was not -yet time for the rising of the moon. There -was still a flush of red in the west, and still the -breasts of the gulls that veered over the waters -flashed white and luminous in the gathering -gray. The silence was absolute, save for the -silken swish of the tide rising gently along the -shore. The spell of twilight, the great soul-twilight -of the middle ages, hung heavy on the -battlements of the Castle on the cliff. On -the terrace the three women paused in their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_429'>429</span>slow walk. Lenore, her white face uplifted, -and a look in her face as if the gates of -Heaven had opened a little before her eyes, -said dreamily,—</p> - -<p class='c014'>“How sweet it is,—and how beautiful,—our -home!”</p> - -<p class='c014'>The silence of the others throbbed assent to -her whispered words.</p> - -<p class='c014'>The gulls were sinking slowly toward their -nests. The drawbridge over the moat was -just lifting for the night. A lapwing or two -floated round the high turrets of the Castle; -and from the doorway there, Alixe was coming -forth, bearing Lenore’s baby in her arms. The -stillness grew more intense, and over the edge -of the eastern trees slipped the round, pink -harvest moon. Then, one by one, a few great -stars came sparkling out into the sky.</p> - -<p class='c014'>“See,” murmured Eleanore, very softly, -“the east is clear around the rising moon.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>And Laure replied to her: “Yes, very clear. -How beautiful will be the morrow’s dawn!”</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c003'> - <div><span class='small'>THE END</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c004' /> -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_detail-for-ads.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='ph2 section'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><span class='small'>MISS POTTER’S FIRST SUCCESS</span></div> - <div class='c004'><cite>Uncanonized</cite></div> - <div class='c004'><span class='large'><span class='sc'>By</span> MARGARET HORTON POTTER</span></div> - <div class='c004'><span class='small'><em>Author of “The Castle of Twilight”</em></span></div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_detail-for-ads.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>A story of English monastic life in the thirteenth -century during the momentous reign -of King John. The leading character, -Anthony Fitz-Hubert, is a brilliant young courtier, -son of the Archbishop of Canterbury, who turns monk -to insure the safety of his father’s soul. The interpretation -of King John’s character and acts differs -widely from the traditional view, but it is one which -investigation is now beginning to present with confidence.</p> - -<p class='c018'>One of the most powerful historical romances that has ever -appeared over the name of an American writer.—<span class='sc'>Philadelphia -Inquirer.</span></p> - -<p class='c018'>In such romances we shall always delight, turning to them -from much that is dull and inane in what passes for the realistic -reflex of our present-day life.—<span class='sc'>Harper’s Magazine.</span></p> - -<p class='c018'>It is a noteworthy book of its very attractive kind.—<span class='sc'>The -Independent.</span></p> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_detail-for-ads.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>SIXTH EDITION</div> - <div class='c004'>WITH FRONTISPIECE. 12mo. $1.50</div> - <div class='c004'>A. C. McCLURG & CO., <em>Publishers</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_detail-for-ads.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='ph2 section'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><span class='small'>UNIFORM WITH “THE THRALL OF LEIF THE LUCKY”</span></div> - <div class='c004'><cite>The Ward of King Canute</cite></div> - <div class='c004'><span class='small'>A ROMANCE OF THE DANISH CONQUEST</span></div> - <div class='c004'><span class='large'><span class='sc'>By</span> OTTILIE A. LILJENCRANTZ</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_detail-for-ads.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>This book is for those who are weary of conventional -romances and are searching for a story that -does not give them the dusty and worn-out historic -trappings with which they are over familiar. The -story of Randalin, the beautiful Danish maiden who served -King Canute disguised as a page, is spontaneous and unhackneyed, -and has a mediæval atmosphere of the most inspiring -kind. The reader forgets his practical twentieth-century -point of view, and loses himself in the glamour of these brave -old days of the Danish conquest.</p> - -<p class='c018'>It is a romance of enthralling interest.... Written in plain, unadorned -Anglo-Saxon, it is as pure and wholesome as the lovely maiden -whose face smiles between the lines. It is one of the few novels that can -be read a second time with increased enjoyment. Than this, what more -can be said?—<span class='sc'>Chicago Tribune.</span></p> - -<p class='c018'>Readers of “The Thrall of Leif the Lucky” can understand without -description the pleasure in store for them in Miss Liljencrantz’s latest tale. -The volume is a remarkable example of bookmaking, the colored illustrations -showing to what heights the art of book illustration may attain.—<span class='sc'>Boston -Transcript.</span></p> - -<p class='c018'>A stalwart and beautiful tale—a fine, big thing, full of men’s strength -and courage and a girl’s devotion, the atmosphere of great days and primitive -human passions.—<span class='sc'>Philadelphia Ledger.</span></p> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_detail-for-ads.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>THIRD EDITION</div> - <div class='c004'>WITH SIX FULL-PAGE PICTURES IN COLOR AND OTHER DECORATIONS BY THE KINNEYS. $1.50</div> - <div class='c004'>A. C. McCLURG & CO., <span class='sc'>Publishers</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_detail-for-ads.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='ph2 section'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><span class='small'>A BOOK OF GREAT BEAUTY</span></div> - <div class='c004'><cite>The Thrall of Leif the Lucky</cite></div> - <div class='c004'><span class='small'>A STORY OF VIKING DAYS</span></div> - <div class='c004'><span class='large'><span class='sc'>By</span> OTTILIE A. LILJENCRANTZ</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_detail-for-ads.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>A remarkable book because it not only tells -an unusual and fascinating story, with a novel and -seldom used—and therefore interesting—historical -background, but it was everywhere declared “the -most beautiful book of fiction of 1902.” The striking appearance -of the volume is due to the appropriate character of -the type, initials, end-papers, etc., and to the wonderful -pictures in color. It is the story of Alwin, the son of an -English earl, and how he served the great Leif Ericsson on his -famous voyage to the New World, and how he finally won -his freedom and the beautiful Helga by his own high courage.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Nearer to absolute novelty than any book published this spring.—<span class='sc'>New -York World.</span></p> - -<p class='c018'>The most beautifully illustrated and artistically ornamented romance published -this year.—<span class='sc'>New York Journal.</span></p> - -<p class='c018'>A tale which moves among stalwart men, and in the palaces of leaders.—<span class='sc'>New -York Mail and Express.</span></p> - -<p class='c018'>One of the best constructed historical romances that has appeared in -America in some years.—<span class='sc'>Brooklyn Eagle.</span></p> - -<p class='c018'>The atmosphere of the old days of fighting and adventure glows in the -book.—<span class='sc'>Springfield Republican.</span></p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_detail-for-ads.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>SIXTH EDITION</div> - <div class='c004'>WITH SIX FULL-PAGE PICTURES IN COLOR, AND OTHER DECORATIONS BY THE KINNEYS. $1.50</div> - <div class='c004'>A. C. McCLURG & CO., <span class='sc'>Publishers</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c004' /> -</div> -<div class='tnotes'> - -<div class='ph2 section'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - - <ol class='ol_1 c003'> - <li>Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. - - </li> - <li>Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed. - - </li> - <li>Footnotes were re-indexed using numbers. - </li> - </ol> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Castle of Twilight, by Margaret Horton Potter - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CASTLE OF TWILIGHT *** - -***** This file should be named 62669-h.htm or 62669-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/6/6/62669/ - -Produced by Richard Tonsing, Mary Glenn Krause, Charlene -Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - -</pre> - - </body> - <!-- created with ppgen.py 3.57c on 2020-07-17 16:16:06 GMT --> -</html> |