Part 30 (2/2)
Now it befell upon a drowsy afternoon, that, waking from slumber within the garden, Beltane found himself alone. So he arose and walked amid the flowers thinking of many things, but of the d.u.c.h.ess Helen most of all. As he wandered slowly thus, his head bent and eyes a-dream, he came unto a certain shady arbour where fragrant herb and climbing blooms wrought a tender twilight apt to blissful musing. Now standing within this perfumed shade he heard of a sudden a light step behind him, and turning swift about, his eager arms closed upon a soft and yielding form, and behold--it was Winfrida! Then Beltane would have loosed his clasp, but her white hands reached up and clung upon his broad shoulders, yet when she spake her voice was low and humble.
”My lord Beltane,” she sighed, ”happy art thou to have won the love of our n.o.ble lady--aye, happy art thou! But as for me, alas! messire, meseemeth her heart is turned 'gainst me these days; I, who was her loved companion and childish play-fellow! So now am I very desolate, wherefore I pray you speak with her on my behalf and win her to forgiveness. Ah, messire, when thou shalt be Duke indeed, think kindly on the poor Winfrida, for as I most truly love the d.u.c.h.ess--” here needs must she sigh amain and turn aside her shapely head, and thereafter spake, clear and loud: ”so will I love thee also!” Then, while he yet stood abashed by the touch of her and the look in her eyes, she caught his hand to her lips and fled away out of the arbour.
But now as he stood staring after her beyond all thought amazed, a white hand parted the leafy screen and the d.u.c.h.ess stood before him.
And behold! her slender brows were wrinkled faintly, and when she spake her voice was cold and distant.
”Saw you the lady Winfrida, my lord?”
”Why truly,” stammered Beltane, ”truly I--she was here but now--”
”Here, my lord? Alone?”
”She besought me speak thee for her forgiveness; to remind thee of her love aforetime, to--”
”Would'st plead for her, in sooth?”
”I would but have thee do her justice, Helen--”
”Think you I am so unjust, my lord?”
”Not so indeed. But she is so young--so fair--”
”Aye, she is very fair, my lord--there be--others think the same.”
”Helen?” said he, ”O Helen!”
”And thou dost plead for her--and to me, my lord! And with her kisses yet burning thee!”
”She did but kiss my hand--”
”Thy hand, my lord! O aye, thy hand forsooth!”
”Aye, my hand, lady, and therewith named me 'Duke'!” quoth Beltane, beginning to frown. Whereat needs must the d.u.c.h.ess laugh, very soft and sweet yet with eyes aglow beneath her lashes.
”'Duke,' messire? She names thee so betimes, meseemeth. Thou art not Duke yet, nor can'st thou ever be but of my favour!”
”And the time flieth apace,” sighed Beltane, ”and I have mighty things to do. O, methinks I have tarried here overlong!”
”Ah--and would'st be going, messire?”
”'Tis so methinks my duty.”
”Go you alone, messire--or goeth she with thee?”
”Ah, G.o.d! How dare ye so think?” cried Beltane, in anger so fierce and sudden that though she fronted him yet smiling, she drew back a pace.
Whereat his anger fell from him and he reached out his hands.
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