Part 14 (1/2)
Aldobrandino glowered upon him and grunted this reply: ”You mind me of a _stornello_ sung by our peasants:
”'Flower o' the peach, Flowers for all fancies, his own love for each.'
”And verily,” he added, ”it is well that it is so, else should I have had for rivals Louis and Henry and Charles, and perchance you also. The flower o' the peach suits her well; she is but a homely little bloom o'
the kitchen garden beside her statelier rose and lily sisters. But, look you, what use have I for such useless ornaments as your waxy-pale lilies, your flaunting and fragile roses? What fruit bear they, I ask?
Why, pips and briars. Whereas the peach is a stocky tree, prolific and profitable to its owner, for to its unadmired and modest blossom succeedeth a toothsome fruitage. Therefore say I the flower o' the peach for me. For, hist, Ricciardo, I am past the age when one goes maying for flowers only. Women have had no great power over me, and a bachelor I should die but that I have regard for what shall happen after me, and a natural desire for the continuance of my race upon their old estates. It is not so much a wife that I seek as a mother for my children. I would see many and goodly sons about me, strong of body, l.u.s.ty in fight, such as only a wholesome and st.u.r.dy woman can bear and rear. If she have wit enough to rule them it is enough for me; and as for beauty, the less the better in the eyes of other men for her whom my descendants shall claim with pride as mother of the Aldobrandini.”
II
THE ORDEAL
One maiden trimly girt Bore in her gleaming upheld skirt Fair silken b.a.l.l.s sewed round with gold; Which when the others did behold Men cast their mantles unto earth, And maids within their raiment's girth Drew up their gown skirts, loosening here Some b.u.t.ton on their bosoms dear Or slender wrists, then making tight The laces round their ankles light; For folk were wont within that land To cast the ball from hand to hand, Dancing meanwhile full orderly.
Lovely to look on was the sway Of the slim maidens neath the ball As they swung back to note its fall With dainty balanced feet; and fair The bright out-flowing, golden hair, As swiftly yet in measured wise One maid ran forth to gain the prize; Eyes glittered and young cheeks glowed bright And gold-shod feet, round limb and light, Gleamed from beneath the girded gown That, unrebuked, untouched was thrown Hither and thither by the breeze; Shrill laughter smote the thick-leaved trees, Till they, for very breathlessness, With rest the trodden daisies bless.
WILLIAM MORRIS.
Cold and calculating, nay coa.r.s.e also seemed the motives of Aldobrandino to Richard as he pondered them. ”Not so,” thought he, ”would I set about the choosing of my wife--as it were the purchase of a brood-mare.” Still more his soul revolted at this low animalism when that afternoon he for the first time beheld sweet Sancie playing at ball with her sisters in the pleasance of the palace of Aries.
The game was set to music, the measured beating of a tambour with the light chiming of silver bells. Some said that Marguerite was most regal; so stately she moved to the rhythm of the dance, that one might have fancied that the glorious statue of the Venus of Arles had descended from her ancient shrine to tread a measure with her maidens. But Eleanor danced with more vivacity and pa.s.sion. You would have thought her of Spanish blood as she leapt and whirled, catching the ball with the lithe ferocity of a panther. For Beatrice, Richard had no eyes, for as he watched Sancie, he knew what her three kingly brothers-in-law had meant when each could name only his own heart's dearest as her superior. He saw, too, why Aldobrandino had likened her to a peach-blossom, for her complexion had that even delicate flush, not white and red in spots, but roseate everywhere, like the heart of a conch sh.e.l.l or the breast of a pink curlew.
Abounding health spake in her buoyant step, but she was fine as well as strong. The rounded contours of her cheeks and shoulders were soft as those of a babe, and Richard had seen naught in all his life so exquisite as her dimpling smile. Would you know with more particularity how she appeared to him, look you straightway at the sweet maid in the foreground of that _Coronation of the Virgin_ which Fra Lippo Lippi painted; and from the framing of wayward little curls that make their escape from a veil of silver tissue, a tangle withal to mesh a man's heart in, from that face, I say (though the painter-monk had ne'er the felicity to see her), Sancie's round eyes will search your soul and will remain in your memory for evermore.
You will not wonder then that Richard blessed G.o.d in his heart for making a thing so fair, and stood as one in amaze until the ball with which she was playing fell at his feet.
Needs must then that he return it to her and join in the game, for this was the custom when one of the players dropped out, as had Beatrice from weariness.
So he played, but he saw not the ball, only her who sped it, and making many faults the game was adjudged to her.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Face of Young Girl in the Coronation of
the Virgin
By Fra Filippo Lippi Permission of Alinari]
Then they walked together, others of the company following in twos and threes at a discreet distance, in that _allee_ which still retains its ancient name, Les Alyscamps (Champs Elysees--Elysian Fields), where 'neath the taller trees the oleanders shot in long curves bursting in pink fire, like rockets, above their heads. Here, seated upon one of those carven tombs which now make benches for lovers in that enchanting spot, she told him old legends of St. Trophime, how he and his fellows sculptured about the portal of his abbey descend from their niches and keep here the eve of Toussaint. ”You will see them,” she said, ”when you go to hang your s.h.i.+eld in the cloister, where it must be displayed, if so be you fight in this foolish joust. Truly sorry and shamed am I that so many gallant knights must run the risk of wounds and death for little me.”
”'Tis a small venture for so great a prize,” said Richard.
”Then, as you fight, let it be your best, for--” but here she paused and ended her sentence differently from her first intention--”for I would not have you hurt,” and her face grew yet rosier.
Richard cursed his fate that he might not fight his best, but his cursing was in his heart, what he said was: ”The fortunes of such a joust are very fickle and it must needs happen that many a good knight will fight his doughtiest and yet not succeed. If I am among that number, sweet lady, I pray you set not my mischance down to lack of will, for in no tournament that I have ever entered had I so great desire to win.”
She looked no higher than the Plantagenet leopards gold-embroidered upon the breast of his doublet. ”Since, to spare the knights the mortification of public discomfiture, my father hath decreed that they fight incognito (their true names being known only to the _roi d'armes_ who pa.s.ses upon their qualifications), will you not tell me the device which you have chosen?”
”Choose my device for me,” he said, ”and I will cause it to be blazoned on my s.h.i.+eld and embroidered on my pennant.”
”It has been foretold,” she answered pensively, ”that I shall wed the King of Cups. Therefore, if you honestly desire to win choose that emblem.”
”My cup runneth over,” he murmured--and their lips met.