The Line of Love; Dizain des Mariages Read online

  CHAPTER II

  _The Episode Called Adhelmar at Puysange_

  I. _April-magic_

  When Adhelmar had ended the tale of Dame Venus and the love which shebore the knight Tannhaeuser (here one overtakes Nicolas midcourse innarrative), Adhelmar put away the book and sighed. The Demoiselle Melitelaughed a little--her laughter, as I have told you, was high anddelicate, with the resonance of thin glass--and demanded the reason ofhis sudden grief.

  "I sigh," he answered, "for sorrow that this Dame Venus is dead."

  "Surely," said she, wondering at his glum face, "that is no greatmatter."

  "By Saint Vulfran, yes!" Adhelmar protested; "for the same Lady Venus wasthe fairest of women, as all learned clerks avow; and she is dead thesemany years, and now there is no woman left alive so beautiful asshe--saving one alone, and she will have none of me. And therefore," headded, very slowly, "I sigh for desire of Dame Venus and for envy of theknight Tannhaeuser."

  Again Melite laughed, but she forbore--discreetly enough--to question himconcerning the lady who was of equal beauty with Dame Venus.

  It was an April morning, and they set in the hedged garden of Puysange.Adhelmar read to her of divers ancient queens and of the love-businesswherein each took part, relating the histories of the Lady Heleine and ofher sweethearting with Duke Paris, the Emperor of Troy's son, and of theLady Melior that loved Parthenopex of Blois, and of the Lady Aude, forlove of whom Sieur Roland slew the pagan Angoulaffre, and of the LadyCresseide that betrayed love, and of the Lady Morgaine la Fee, whoseDanish lover should yet come from Avalon to save France in her black hourof need. All these he read aloud, suavely, with bland modulations, for hewas a man of letters, as letters went in those days. Originally, he hadbeen bred for the Church; but this vocation he had happily forsaken longsince, protesting with some show of reason that France at this particulartime had a greater need of spears than of aves.

  For the rest, Sir Adhelmar de Nointel was known as a valiant knight, whohad won glory in the wars with the English. He had lodged for a fortnightat Puysange, of which castle the master, Sire Reinault (son to the lateVicomte Florian) was Adhelmar's cousin: and on the next day Adhelmarproposed to set forth for Paris, where the French King--Jehan theLuckless--was gathering his lieges about him to withstand his kinsman,Edward of England.

  Now, as I have said, Adhelmar was cousin to Reinault, and, inconsequence, to Reinault's sister, the Demoiselle Melite; and the latterAdhelmar loved, at least, as much as a cousin should. That was wellknown; and Reinault de Puysange had sworn very heartily that this was agreat pity when he affianced her to Hugues d'Arques. Both Hugues andAdhelmar had loved Melite since boyhood,--so far their claims ranequally. But while Adhelmar had busied himself in the acquisition of somescant fame and a vast number of scars, Hugues had sensibly inherited thefief of Arques, a snug property with fertile lands and a stout fortress.How, then, should Reinault hesitate between them?

  He did not. For the Chateau d'Arques, you must understand, was builded inLower Normandy, on the fringe of the hill-country, just where thepeninsula of Cotentin juts out into the sea; Puysange stood not farnorth, among the level lands of Upper Normandy: and these two being thestrongest castles in those parts, what more natural and desirable thanthat the families should be united by marriage? Reinault informed hissister of his decision; she wept a little, but did not refuse to comply.

  So Adhelmar, come again to Puysange after five years' absence, foundMelite troth-plighted, fast and safe, to Hugues. Reinault told him.Adhelmar grumbled and bit his nails in a corner, for a time; thenlaughed shortly.

  "I have loved Melite," he said. "It may be that I love her still. Hah,Saint Vulfran! why should I not? Why should a man not love his cousin?"

  Adhelmar grinned, while the vicomte twitched his beard and wishedAdhelmar at the devil.

  But the young knight stuck fast at Puysange, for all that, and he andMelite were much together. Daily they made parties to dance, and to huntthe deer, and to fish, but most often to rehearse songs. For Adhelmarmade good songs.

  [Footnote: Nicolas indeed declares of Adhelmar, earlier in the tale, insuch high terms as are not uncommon to this chronicle:

  Hardi estait et fier comme lions, Et si faisait balades et chancons, Rondeaulx et laiz, tres bans et pleins de grace, Comme Orpheus, cet menestrier de Thrace.]

  To-day, the summer already stirring in the womb of the year, they sat, asI have said, in the hedged garden; and about them the birds piped andwrangled over their nest-building, and daffodils danced in spring's honorwith lively saltations, and overhead the sky was colored like a robin'segg. It was very perilous weather for young folk. By reason of this, whenhe had ended his reading about the lady of the hollow hill, Sir Adhelmarsighed again, and stared at his companion with hungry eyes, whereindesire strained like a hound at the leash.

  Said Melite, "Was this Lady Venus, then, exceedingly beautiful?"

  Adhelmar swore an oath of sufficient magnitude that she was.

  Whereupon Melite, twisting her fingers idly and evincing a suddeninterest in her own feet, demanded if this Venus were more beautiful thanthe Lady Ermengarde of Arnaye or the Lady Ysabeau of Brieuc.

  "Holy Ouen!" scoffed Adhelmar; "these ladies, while well enough, I grantyou, would seem to be callow howlets blinking about that Arabian Phoenixwhich Plinius tells of, in comparison with this Lady Venus that is dead!"

  "But how," asked Melite, "was this lady fashioned that you commend sohighly?--and how can you know of her beauty who have never seen her?"

  Said Adhelmar: "I have read of her fairness in the chronicles of MessireStace of Thebes, and of Dares, who was her husband's bishop. And she wasvery comely, neither too little nor too big; she was fairer and whiterand more lovely than any flower of the lily or snow upon the branch, buther eyebrows had the mischance of meeting. She had wide-open, beautifuleyes, and her wit was quick and ready. She was graceful and of demurecountenance. She was well-beloved, and could herself love well, but herheart was changeable--"

  "Cousin Adhelmar," declared Melite, flushing somewhat, for the portraitwas like enough, "I think that you tell of a woman, not of a goddess ofheathenry."

  "Her eyes," said Adhelmar, and his voice shook, and his hands, lifting alittle, trembled,--"her eyes were large and very bright and of a colorlike that of the June sunlight falling upon deep waters. Her hairwas of a curious gold color like the Fleece that the knight Jason sought,and it curled marvellously about her temples. For mouth she had but asmall red wound; and her throat was a tower builded of ivory."

  But now, still staring at her feet and glowing with the even complexionof a rose, (though not ill-pleased), the Demoiselle Melite bade himdesist and make her a song. Moreover, she added, beauty was but afleeting thing, and she considered it of little importance; and then shelaughed again.

  Adhelmar took up the lute that lay beside them and fingered it for amoment, as though wondering of what he would rhyme. Afterward he sang forher as they sat in the gardens.

  Sang Adhelmar:

  _"It is in vain I mirror forth the praise In pondered virelais Of her that is the lady of my love; Far-sought and curious phrases fail to tell The tender miracle Of her white body and the grace thereof.

  "Thus many and many an artful-artless strain Is fashioned all in vain: Sound proves unsound; and even her name, that is To me more glorious than the glow of fire Or dawn or love's desire Or opals interlinked with turquoises, Mocks utterance.

  "So, lacking skill to praise That perfect bodily beauty which is hers, Even as those worshippers Who bore rude offerings of honey and maize, Their all, into the gold-paved ministers Of Aphrodite, I have given her these My faltering melodies, That are Love's lean and ragged messengers."_

  When he had ended, Adhelmar cast aside the lute, and caught up both ofMelite's hands, and strained them to his lips. There needed no wizard toread the message in his eyes.

  Melite sat silent for a moment. Presently, "Ah, cousin, cousin!" shesighed,
"I cannot love you as you would have me love. God alone knowswhy, true heart, for I revere you as a strong man and a proven knight anda faithful lover; but I do not love you. There are many women who wouldlove you, Adhelmar, for the world praises you, and you have done bravedeeds and made good songs and have served your King potently; andyet"--she drew her hands away and laughed a little wearily--"yet I, poormaid, must needs love Hugues, who has done nothing. This love is astrange, unreasoning thing, my cousin."

  "But do you in truth love Hugues?" asked Adhelmar, in a harsh voice.

  "Yes," said Melite, very softly, and afterward flushed and wondereddimly if she had spoken the truth. Then, somehow, her arms clasped aboutAdhelmar's neck, and she kissed him, from pure pity, as she toldherself; for Melite's heart was tender, and she could not endure theanguish in his face.

  This was all very well. But Hugues d'Arques, coming suddenly out of apleached walk, at this juncture, stumbled upon them and found theirpostures distasteful. He bent black brows upon the two.

  "Adhelmar," said he, at length, "this world is a small place."

  Adhelmar rose. "Indeed," he assented, with a wried smile, "I think thereis scarce room in it for both of us, Hugues."

  "That was my meaning," said the Sieur d'Arques.

  "Only," Adhelmar pursued, somewhat wistfully, "my sword just now, Hugues,is vowed to my King's quarrel. There are some of us who hope to saveFrance yet, if our blood may avail. In a year, God willing, I shall comeagain to Puysange; and till then you must wait."

  Hugues conceded that, perforce, he must wait, since a vow was sacred;and Adhelmar, who suspected Hugues' natural appetite for battle to belamentably squeamish, grinned. After that, in a sick rage, Adhelmarstruck Hugues in the face, and turned about.

  The Sieur d'Arques rubbed his cheek ruefully. Then he and Melite stoodsilent for a moment, and heard Adhelmar in the court-yard calling his mento ride forth; and Melite laughed; and Hugues scowled.

  2. _Nicolas as Chorus_

  The year passed, and Adhelmar did not return; and there was much fightingduring that interval, and Hugues began to think the knight was slain andwould never return to fight with him. The reflection was borne withequanimity.

  So Adhelmar was half-forgot, and the Sieur d'Arques turned his mind toother matters. He was still a bachelor, for Reinault considered theburden of the times in ill-accord with the chinking of marriage-bells.They were grim times for Frenchmen: right and left the English pillagedand killed and sacked and guzzled and drank, as if they would never havedone; and Edward of England began, to subscribe himself _Rex Franciae_with some show of excuse.

  In Normandy men acted according to their natures. Reinault swore lustilyand looked to his defences; Hugues, seeing the English everywheretriumphant, drew a long face and doubted, when the will of God was madethus apparent, were it the part of a Christian to withstand it? Then hebegan to write letters, but to whom no man at either Arques or Puysangeknew, saving One-eyed Peire, who carried them.

  3. _Treats of Huckstering_

  It was in the dusk of a rain-sodden October day that Adhelmar rode to thegates of Puysange, with some score men-at-arms behind him. They came fromPoictiers, where again the English had conquered, and Adhelmar rode withdifficulty, for in that disastrous business in the field of Maupertuis hehad been run through the chest, and his wound was scarce healed.Nevertheless, he came to finish his debate with the Sieur d'Arques, woundor no wound.

  But at Puysange he heard a strange tale of Hugues. Reinault, whomAdhelmar found in a fine rage, told the story as they sat overtheir supper.

  It had happened, somehow, (Reinault said), that the Marshal Arnoldd'Andreghen--newly escaped from prison and with his dispositionunameliorated by Lord Audley's gaolership,--had heard of these lettersthat Hugues wrote so constantly; and the Marshal, being no scholar, hadfrowned at such doings, and waited presently, with a company of horse, onthe road to Arques. Into their midst, on the day before Adhelmar came,rode Peire, the one-eyed messenger; and it was not an unconscionablewhile before Peire was bound hand and foot, and d'Andreghen was readingthe letter they had found in Peire's jerkin. "Hang the carrier on thatoak," said d'Andreghen, when he had ended, "but leave that largest branchyonder for the writer. For by the Blood of Christ, our common salvation!I will hang him there on Monday!"

  So Peire swung in the air ere long and stuck out a black tongue at thecrows, who cawed and waited for supper; and presently they feasted whiled'Andreghen rode to Arques, carrying a rope for Hugues.

  For the Marshal, you must understand, was a man of sudden action. Onlytwo months ago, he had taken the Comte de Harcourt with other gentlemenfrom the Dauphin's own table to behead them that afternoon in a fieldbehind Rouen. It was true they had planned to resist the _gabelle_, theKing's immemorial right to impose a tax on salt; but Harcourt was Hugues'cousin, and the Sieur d'Arques, being somewhat of an epicureandisposition, esteemed the dessert accorded his kinsman unpalatable.

  There was no cause for great surprise to d'Andreghen, then, to find thatthe letter Hugues had written was meant for Edward, the Black Prince ofEngland, now at Bordeaux, where he held the French King, whom the Princehad captured at Poictiers, as a prisoner; for this prince, though he hadno particular love for a rogue, yet knew how to make use of one whenkingcraft demanded it,--and, as he afterward made use of Pedro theCastilian, he was now prepared to make use of Hugues, who hung like aripe pear ready to drop into Prince Edward's mouth. "For," as the Sieurd'Arques pointed out in his letter, "I am by nature inclined to favor youbrave English, and so, beyond doubt, is the good God. And I will deliverArques to you; and thus and thus you may take Normandy and the majorportion of France; and thus and thus will I do, and thus and thus mustyou reward me."

  Said d'Andreghen, "I will hang him at dawn; and thus and thus may thedevil do with his soul!"

  Then with his company d'Andreghen rode to Arques. A herald declared tothe men of that place how the matter stood, and bade Hugues come forthand dance upon nothing. The Sieur d'Arques spat curses, like a cat driveninto a corner, and wished to fight, but the greater part of his garrisonwere not willing to do so in such a cause: and so d'Andreghen took himand carried him off.

  In anger having sworn by the Blood of Christ to hang Hugues d'Arques to acertain tree, d'Andreghen had no choice in calm but to abide by his oath.This day being the Sabbath, he deferred the matter; but the Marshalpromised to see to it that when morning broke the Sieur d'Arques shoulddangle side by side with his messenger.

  Thus far the Vicomte de Puysange. He concluded his narrative with a drychuckle. "And I think we are very well rid of him, Adhelmar. Holy Maclou!that I should have taken the traitor for a true man, though! He wouldsell France, you observe,--chaffered, they tell me, like a pedlar overthe price of Normandy. Heh, the huckster, the triple-damned Jew!"

  "And Melite?" asked Adhelmar, after a little.

  Again Reinault shrugged. "In the White Turret," he said; then, with ashort laugh: "Oy Dieus, yes! The girl has been caterwauling for thisshabby rogue all day. She would have me--me, the King's man, lookyou!--save Hugues at the peril of my seignory! And I protest to you, bythe most high and pious Saint Nicolas the Confessor," Reinault swore,"that sooner than see this huckster go unpunished, I would lock Hell'sgate on him with my own hands!"

  For a moment Adhelmar stood with his jaws puffed out, as if in thought,and then he laughed like a wolf. Afterward he went to the White Turret,leaving Reinault smiling over his wine.

  4. _Folly Diversely Attested_

  He found Melite alone. She had robed herself in black, and had gatheredher gold hair about her face like a heavy veil, and sat weeping into itfor the plight of Hugues d'Arques.

  "Melite!" cried Adhelmar; "Melite!" The Demoiselle de Puysange rose witha start, and, seeing him standing in the doorway, ran to him, incompetentlittle hands fluttering before her like frightened doves. She was verytired, by that day-long arguing with her brother's notions about honorand knightly faith and such foolish matters, and to her wearinessAdhel
mar seemed strength incarnate; surely he, if any one, could aidHugues and bring him safe out of the grim marshal's claws. For themoment, perhaps, she had forgotten the feud which existed betweenAdhelmar and the Sieur d'Arques; but in any event, I am convinced, sheknew that Adhelmar could refuse her nothing. So she ran toward him, hercheeks flushing arbutus-like, and she was smiling through her tears.

  Oh, thought Adhelmar, were it not very easy to leave Hugues to the dog'sdeath he merits and to take this woman for my own? For I know that sheloves me a little. And thinking of this, he kissed her, quietly, as onemight comfort a sobbing child; afterward he held her in his arms for amoment, wondering vaguely at the pliant thickness of her hair and thesweet scent of it. Then he put her from him gently, and swore in his soulthat Hugues must die, so that this woman might be Adhelmar's.

  "You will save him?" Melite asked, and raised her face to his. There wasthat in her eyes which caused Adhelmar to muse for a little on the natureof women's love, and, subsequently, to laugh harshly and make vehementutterance.

  "Yes!" said Adhelmar.

  He demanded how many of Hugues' men were about. Some twenty of them hadcome to Puysange, Melite said, in the hope that Reinault might aid themto save their master. She protested that her brother was a coward for notdoing so; but Adhelmar, having his own opinion on this subject, andthinking in his heart that Hugues' skin might easily be ripped off himwithout spilling a pint of honest blood, said, simply: "Twenty and twentyis two-score. It is not a large armament, but it may serve."

  He told her his plan was to fall suddenly upon d'Andreghen and his menthat night, and in the tumult to steal Hugues away; whereafter, asAdhelmar pointed out, Hugues might readily take ship for England, andleave the marshal to blaspheme Fortune in Normandy, and the French Kingto gnaw at his chains in Bordeaux, while Hugues toasts his shins incomfort at London. Adhelmar admitted that the plan was a mad one, butadded, reasonably enough, that needs must when the devil drives. And sofirm was his confidence, so cheery his laugh--he managed to laughsomehow, though it was a stiff piece of work,--that Melite began to becomforted somewhat, and bade him go and Godspeed.

  So then Adhelmar left her. In the main hall he found the vicomte stillsitting over his wine of Anjou.

  "Cousin," said Adhelmar, "I must ride hence to-night."

  Reinault stared at him: a mastering wonder woke in Reinault's face."Ta, ta, ta!" he clicked his tongue, very softly. Afterward he sprangto his feet and clutched Adhelmar by both arms. "No, no!" Reinaultcried. "No, Adhelmar, you must not try that! It is death, lad,--suredeath! It means hanging, boy!" the vicomte pleaded, for, hard man thathe was, he loved Adhelmar.

  "That is likely enough," Adhelmar conceded.

  "They will hang you,"' Reinault said again: "d'Andreghen and the CountDauphin of Vienna will hang you as blithely as they would Iscariot."

  "That, too," said Adhelmar, "is likely enough, if I remain in France."

  "Oy Dieus! will you flee to England, then?" the vicomte scoffed,bitterly. "Has King Edward not sworn to hang you these eight years past?Was it not you, then, cousin, who took Almerigo di Pavia, that Lombardknave whom he made governor of Calais,--was it not you, then, whodelivered Edward's loved Almerigo to Geoffrey de Chargny, who had himbroken on the wheel? Eh, holy Maclou! but you will get hearty welcome anda chaplain and a rope in England."

  Adhelmar admitted that this was true. "Still," said he, "I must ridehence to-night."

  "For her?" Reinault asked, and jerked his thumb upward.

  "Yes," said Adhelmar,--"for her."

  Reinault stared in his face for a while. "You are a fool, Adhelmar," saidhe, at last, "but you are a brave man, and you love as becomes achevalier. It is a great pity that a flibbertigibbet wench with atow-head should be the death of you. For my part, I am the King's vassal;I shall not break faith with him; but you are my guest and my kinsman.For that reason I am going to bed, and I shall sleep very soundly. It islikely I shall hear nothing of the night's doings,--ohime, no! not if youmurder d'Andreghen in the court-yard!" Reinault ended, and smiled,somewhat sadly.

  Afterward he took Adhelmar's hand and said: "Farewell, lord Adhelmar! Otrue knight, sturdy and bold! terrible and merciless toward your enemies,gentle and simple toward your friends, farewell!"

  He kissed Adhelmar on either cheek and left him. In those days menencountered death with very little ado.

  Then Adhelmar rode off in the rain with thirty-four armed followers.Riding thus, he reflected upon the nature of women and upon his lovefor the Demoiselle de Puysange; and, to himself, he swore gloomily thatif she had a mind to Hugues she must have Hugues, come what might.Having reached this conclusion, Adhelmar wheeled upon his men, andcursed them for tavern-idlers and laggards and flea-hearted snails, andbade them spur.

  Melite, at her window, heard them depart, and heard the noise of theirgoing lapse into the bland monotony of the rain's noise. This dank nightnow divulged no more, and she turned back into the room. Adhelmar'sglove, which he had forgotten in his haste, lay upon the floor, andMelite lifted it and twisted it idly.

  "I wonder--?" said she.

  She lighted four wax candles and set them before a mirror that was in theroom. Melite stood among them and looked into the mirror. She seemed verytall and very slender, and her loosened hair hung heavily about herbeautiful shallow face and fell like a cloak around her black-robed body,showing against the black gown like melting gold; and about her were thetall, white candles tipped with still flames of gold. Melite laughed--herlaughter was high and delicate, with the resonance of thin glass,--andraised her arms above her, head, stretching tensely like a cat before afire, and laughed yet again.

  "After all," said she, "I do not wonder."

  Melite sat before the mirror, and braided her hair, and sang to herselfin a sweet, low voice, brooding with unfathomable eyes upon her image inthe glass, while the October rain beat about Puysange, and Adhelmar rodeforth to save Hugues that must else be hanged.

  Sang Melite:

  "_Rustling leaves of the willow-tree Peering downward at you and me, And no man else in the world to see,

  "Only the birds, whose dusty coats Show dark in the green,--whose throbbing throats Turn joy to music and love to notes_.

  "Lean your body against the tree, Lifting your red lips up to me, Melite, and kiss, with no man to see!

  "And let us laugh for a little:--Yea, Let love and laughter herald the day When laughter and love will be put away.

  "Then you will remember the willow-tree And this very hour, and remember me, Melite,--whose face you will no more see!

  "So swift, so swift the glad time goes, And Eld and Death with their countless woes Draw near, and the end thereof no man knows,

  "Lean your body against the tree, Lifting your red lips up to me, Melite, and kiss, with no man to see!"_

  Melite smiled as she sang; for this was a song that Adhelmar had made forher upon a May morning at Nointel, before he was a knight, when both werevery young. So now she smiled to remember the making of the verses whichshe sang while the October rain was beating about Puysange.

  5. _Night-work_

  It was not long before they came upon d'Andreghen and his men campedabout a great oak, with One-eyed Peire a-swing over their heads for alamentable banner. A shrill sentinel, somewhere in the dark, demanded thenewcomers' business, but without receiving any adequate answer, for atthat moment Adhelmar gave the word to charge.

  Then it was as if all the devils in Pandemonium had chosen Normandy fortheir playground; and what took place in the night no man saw for thedarkness, so that I cannot tell you of it. Let it suffice that Adhelmarrode away before d'Andreghen had rubbed sleep well out of his eyes; andwith Adhelmar were Hugues d'Arques and some half of Adhelmar's men. Therest were dead, and Adhelmar was badly hurt, for he had burst open hisold wound and it was bleeding under his armor. Of this he said nothing.

  "Hugues," said he, "do you and these fellows ride to the coast; thencetake ship for England."

>   He would have none of Hugues' thanks; instead, he turned and left Huguesto whimper out his gratitude to the skies, which spat a warm, gusty rainat him. Adhelmar rode again to Puysange, and as he went he sang.

  Sang Adhelmar:

  "D'Andreghen in Normandy Went forth to slay mine enemy; But as he went Lord God for me wrought marvellously;

  "Wherefore, I may call and cry That am now about to die, 'I am content!'

  "Domine! Domine! Gratias accipe! Et meum animum Recipe in coelum_!"

  6. They Kiss at Parting

  When he had come to Puysange, Adhelmar climbed the stairs of the WhiteTurret,--slowly, for he was growing very feeble now,--and so came againto Melite crouching among the burned-out candles in the slate-coloredtwilight which heralded dawn.

  "He is safe," said Adhelmar. He told Melite how Hugues was rescued andshipped to England, and how, if she would, she might straightway followhim in a fishing-boat. "For there is likely to be ugly work at Puysange,"Adhelmar said, "when the marshal comes. And he will come."

  "But what will you do now, my cousin?" asked Melite.

  "Holy Ouen!" said Adhelmar; "since I needs must die, I will die inFrance, not in the cold land of England."

  "Die!" cried Melite. "Are you hurt so sorely, then?"

  He grinned like a death's-head. "My injuries are not incurable," saidhe, "yet must I die very quickly, for all that. The English King willhang me if I go thither, as he has sworn to do these eight years, becauseof that matter of Almerigo di Pavia: and if I stay in France, I must hangbecause of this night's work."

  Melite wept. "O God! O God!" she quavered, two or three times, like onehurt in the throat. "And you have done this for me! Is there no way tosave you, Adhelmar?" she pleaded, with wide, frightened eyes that werelike a child's.

  "None," said Adhelmar. He took both her hands in his, very tenderly. "Ah,my sweet," said he, "must I, whose grave is already digged, waste breathupon this idle talk of kingdoms and the squabbling men who rule them? Ihave but a brief while to live, and I wish to forget that there is aughtelse in the world save you, and that I love you. Do not weep, Melite! Ina little time you will forget me and be happy with this Hugues whom youlove; and I?--ah, my sweet, I think that even in my grave I shall dreamof you and of your great beauty and of the exceeding love that I bore youin the old days."

  "Ah, no, I shall not ever forget, O true and faithful lover! And, indeed,indeed, Adhelmar, I would give my life right willingly that yours mightbe saved!"

  She had almost forgotten Hugues. Her heart was sad as she thought ofAdhelmar, who must die a shameful death for her sake, and of the lovewhich she had cast away. Beside it, the Sieur d'Arques' affection showedsomewhat tawdry, and Melite began to reflect that, after all, she hadliked Adhelmar almost as well.

  "Sweet," said Adhelmar, "do I not know you to the marrow? You will forgetme utterly, for your heart is very changeable. Ah, Mother of God!"Adhelmar cried, with a quick lift of speech; "I am afraid to die, for theharsh dust will shut out the glory of your face, and you will forget!"

  "No; ah, no!" Melite whispered, and drew near to him. Adhelmar smiled, alittle wistfully, for he did not believe that she spoke the truth; but itwas good to feel her body close to his, even though he was dying, and hewas content.

  But by this time the dawn had come completely, flooding the room with itsfirst thin radiance, and Melite saw the pallor of his face and so knewthat he was wounded.

  "Indeed, yes," said Adhelmar, when she had questioned him, "for my breastis quite cloven through." And when she disarmed him, Melite found a greatcut in his chest which had bled so much that it was apparent he must die,whether d'Andreghen and Edward of England would or no.

  Melite wept again, and cried, "Why had you not told me of this?"

  "To have you heal me, perchance?" said Adhelmar. "Ah, love, is hanging,then, so sweet a death that I should choose it, rather than to die verypeacefully in your arms? Indeed, I would not live if I might; for I haveproven traitor to my King, and it is right that traitors should die; and,chief of all, I know that life can bring me naught more desirable than Ihave known this night. What need, then, have I to live?"

  Melite bent over him; for as he spoke he had lain back in a tall carvenchair by the east window. She was past speech. But now, for a moment, herlips clung to his, and her warm tears fell upon his face. What betterdeath for a lover? thought Adhelmar.

  Yet he murmured somewhat. "Pity, always pity!" he said, wearily. "I shallnever win aught else of you, Melite. For before this you have kissed me,pitying me because you could not love me. And you have kissed me now,pitying me because I may not live."

  But Melite, clasping her arms about his neck, whispered into his ear themeaning of this last kiss, and at the honeyed sound of her whisperinghis strength came back for a moment, and he strove to rise. The levelsunlight through the open window smote full upon his face, which wasvery glad. Melite was conscious of her nobility in causing him suchdelight at the last.

  "God, God!" cried Adhelmar, and he spread out his arms toward the dear,familiar world that was slowly taking form beneath them,--a world nowinfinitely dear to him; "all, my God, have pity and let me live alittle longer!"

  As Melite, half frightened, drew back from him, he crept out of hischair and fell prone at her feet. Afterward his hands stretched forwardtoward her, clutching, and then trembled and were still.

  Melite stood looking downward, wondering vaguely when she would nextknow either joy or sorrow again. She was now conscious of no emotionwhatever. It seemed to her she ought to be more greatly moved. So thenew day found them.

  * * * * *

  MARCH 2, 1414

  "_Jack, how agrees the devil and thee about thy soul, that thou soldesthim for a cup of Madeira and a cold capon's leg_?"

  _In the chapel at Puysange you may still see the tomb of Adhelmar; butMelite's bones lie otherwhere. "Her heart was changeable," as old Nicolassays, justly enough; and so in due time it was comforted.

  For Hugues d'Arques--or Hugh Darke, as his name was Anglicized--presentlystood high in the favor of King Edward. A fief was granted to MessireDarke, in Norfolk, where Hugues shortly built for himself a residence atYaxham, and began to look about for a wife: it was not long before hefound one.

  This befell at Bretigny when, in 1360, the Great Peace was signedbetween France and England, and Hugues, as one of the English embassy,came face to face with Reinault and Melite. History does not detail themeeting; but, inasmuch as the Sieur d'Arques and Melite de Puysange weremarried at Rouen the following October, doubtless it passed offpleasantly enough.

  The couple had sufficient in common to have qualified them for severaldecades of mutual toleration. But by ill luck, Melite died in child-birththree years after her marriage. She had borne, in 1361, twin daughters,of whom Adelais died a spinster; the other daughter, Sylvia, circa 1378,figured in an unfortunate love-affair with one of Sir Thomas Mowbray'sattendants, but subsequently married Robert Vernon of Winstead. Meliteleft also a son, Hugh, born in 1363, who succeeded to his father's estateof Yaxham in 1387, in which year Hugues fell at the battle of RadcotBridge, fighting in behalf of the ill-fated Richard of Bordeaux.

  Now we turn to certain happenings in Eastcheap, at the Boar's HeadTavern._