Under the Rose Part 12

"A woman--a devil"--muttered Triboulet between his closed teeth.

"And now," she cried, rising, impetuously, "he says that women are devils! What shall we do with him?"

"Pelt him out!" answered the countess. "Pelt him out!"

With peals of merriment and triumphant shouts, the court, of one accord, directed a fusillade of fruits, nuts and other viands at the head and person of the raging and hapless buffoon, the countess herself, apple in hand--Eve bent upon vengeance--leading in the a.s.sault. The other tables responded with a cross-fire, and heavier articles succeeded lighter, until after having endured the continuous attack for a few moments as best he might, the unlucky dwarf raised his arms above his head and fairly fled from the hall, leaving behind in his haste a bagpipe and his wooden sword.

"So may all traitors be punished!" said the bishop unctuously, as he reached for a dish of confections that had escaped the fair hands in search of ammunition.

"Well," laughed the Countess d'Etampes, "if we have the support of the Church--"

"I will confess you, myself, Madam," gallantly retorted the bishop.

"And all the Court of Love?" asked Marguerite.

"Ah, your Highness--all?--I am old--in need of rest--but with an a.s.sistant or two--"

"a.s.sistant or two!" interrupted Catharine, imperiously. "Would the task then be so great?"

"Nay"--with gentle expostulation--"but you--members of the court--are many; not your sins."

"I suppose," whispered Jacqueline to the duke's fool, when the attention of the company was thus withdrawn from the jester's end of the table, "you think yourself in fine favor now?"

"Yes," he answered, absently; "thanks to your suggestion."

"My suggestion!" she repeated, scornfully. "I gave you none."

"Well, then, your crossing Triboulet."

"Oh, that," she replied, picking at a bunch of grapes, "was to defend my s.e.x, not you."

"But your warning for me to laugh?"

"Why," she returned, demurely, "'twas to see you go more gallantly to your execution. And"--eating a grape--"that is reasonably certain to be your fate. You've only made a few more enemies to-night--the duke--the--"

"Name them not, fair Jacqueline," he retorted, indifferent.

"True; you'll soon learn for yourself," she answered sharply. "I think I should prefer to be in Triboulet's place to yours at present."

"Why," he said, with a strange laugh, "there's a day for the duke and a day for the fool."

Deliberately she turned from him and sang very softly:

"For love is madness; (A dunce on a stool!) A king in love, A king and a fool!

Sing hoddy-doddy, Noddy!

A king and a fool!"

The monarch bent over the countess; Diane and the dauphin exchanged messages with their eyes; Catharine smiled on Villot; the princess listened to her betrothed; and the jestress alone of all the ladies leaned back and sang, heart-free. But suddenly she again broke off and looked curiously at the duke's _plaisant_.

"Why did you not answer them with what was first in your mind?" she asked.

"What was that?" he said, starting.

"How can I tell?" she returned, studying him.

"You can tell a great deal," he replied.

"Sing hoddy-doddy, Noddy!

The duke and the fool"--

she hummed, deigning no further words.

CHAPTER VIII

A BRIEF TRUCE

"Turn out these torch-bearers, human candlesticks, and _valets de chambre_, and I'll get me to bed," commanded the duke, standing in the center of his room, and the trooper with the fierce red mustaches waved a swarm of pages, cup-bearers and attendants from the door and closed it. "How are the men quartered, Johann?"

"With all the creature comforts, my Lord," answered the soldier. "The king hath dressed them like popinjays; they drink overmuch, dice, and run after the maids, but otherwise are well-behaved."

"Drink; dice; run after the maids!" said the n.o.ble, gazing thoughtfully downward. "Hold them in check, Johann, as though we were in a campaign."

"Yes, my Lord," returned the man, staring impa.s.sively before him.

"And especially keep them from the kitchen wenches. There's more danger in these _femmes de chambre_, laundresses and scullery Cinderellas than in a column of glittering steel. Remember, no Court of Love in the scullery. Now go! Yet stay, Johann!" he added, suddenly. "This fool of ours is a bold fellow. Look to him well!"

Saluting respectfully, an expression of quick intelligence on his florid features, the trooper backed out of the room. With his hands behind him, his shoulders bent forward, the duke long pondered, his look, keen and discerning; his perspicacity clear, in spite of Francis'

wine, or the intoxication of the princess' eyes. Although the n.o.ble's glance seemed bent on vacancy, it was himself as well as others he was studying; weighing the memorable events of the evening; recalling to mind every word with the princess; reviewing her features, the softening of her cold disdain; now, mentally distrustful, because she was a woman; again, confident he already dominated the citadel of her heart.

But a new element had entered into the field; an element unforeseen--the jester!--and, although not attaching great importance to this possible source of hazard in his plans for the future, the duke was too good a soldier to disregard any risk, however slight. In love and battle, every peril should be avoided; every vulnerable point made impregnable. Besides, the fool was audacious, foolhardy; his language of covert mockery and quick wit proved him an intelligent antagonist, who might become a desperate one.

"A woman and a fool," muttered the duke, striding with quick step across his chamber, "are two uncertain quant.i.ties. The one should be subjected; the other removed!"

Museful, he stood before the niche, wherein shone a cross of silver, set with amethysts and turquoise, his rugged face lighted by the uncertain flickering of the candles.

"Removed!" he repeated, contemplatively. "And she--"

The clear tinkling of a bell broke in upon his cogitation; a faint, musical sound that seemed at his very elbow. He wheeled about abruptly, saw nothing save the mysterious shadows of the curtains, the flickering lamps, the dark outline of the canopy of the great bed.

Instinctively he knew he was not alone, and yet his gaze, rapidly sweeping the apartment, failed to perceive an intruder.

Again the tinkling, a low laugh, and, turning sharply toward an alcove from whence the sounds came, the duke, through the half-light and trailing, sombrous shadows of its entrance, perceived a figure in a chair. From a candle set in a spiked, enameled stick, a yellow glimmering, that came and went with the sputtering flame, rested upon an ironical face, a graceful figure in motley and a wand with the jester's head and the bell. Without rising, the _plaisant_ quizzically regarded the surprised n.o.bleman, who in spite of his self-control had stepped back involuntarily at the suddenness of the encounter.

"Good evening, my Lord," said the fool. "I am like the genii of the tale. You think of me, and I appear."