Part 49 (1/2)
I watched them till their forms disappeared in the undergrowth, and turned to my bride.
”And now, Princess, I believe you have something to say to me.
Shall it be here? I will not suggest the cottage, which is overfull maybe of unpleasant reminders; but here is a tree-trunk, if you will be seated.”
”That shall be as my lord chooses.”
I laughed. ”Your lord chooses, then, that you take a seat. It seems (I take your word for it) that there must be hard thoughts between us. Well, a straight quarrel is soonest ended, they say: let us have them out and get them over.”
”Ah, you hurt! Is it necessary that you hurt so?” Her eyes no less than her voice sobered me at once, shuddering together as though my laugh had driven home a sword and it grated on the bone.
I remembered that she always winced at laughter, but this evident anguish puzzled me.
”G.o.d knows,” said I, ”how I am hurting you. But pardon me.
Speak what you have to speak; and I will be patient while I learn.”
”'A lifetime of dishonour,' you said, and yet you laugh . . .
A lifetime of dishonour, and you were blithe to be shot and escape it; yet now you laugh. Ah, I cannot understand!”
”Princess!” I protested, although not even now did I grasp what meaning she had misread into my words.
”But you said rightly. It is a lifetime of dishonour you have suffered them to put on you: and I--I have taken more than life from you, cavalier--yet I cannot grieve for you while you laugh.
O sir, do not take from me my last help, which is to honour you!”
”Listen to me, Princess,” said I, stepping close and standing over her. ”What do you suppose that I meant by using those words?
They were your own words, remember.”
”That is better. It will help us both if we are frank--only do not treat me as a child. You heard what my brother said. Yes, and doubtless you have heard other things to my shame? Answer me.”
”If your brother chose to utter slanders--”
”Yes, yes; it was easy to catch him by the throat. That is how one man treats another who calls a woman vile in her presence. It does not mean that he disbelieves, and therefore it is worthless; but a gallant man will act so, almost without a second thought, and because it is _dans les formes_.” She paused. ”I learned that phrase in Brussels, cavalier.”
I made no answer.
”In Brussels, cavalier,” she repeated, ”where it was often in the mouths of very vile persons. You have heard, perhaps, that we--that my brother and I--lived our childhood in Brussels?”
I bent my head, without answering; but still she persisted.
”I was brought to Corsica from Brussels, cavalier. Marc'antonio and Stephanu fetched us thence, being guided by that priest who is now my brother's confessor.”
”I have been told so, Princess. Marc'antonio told me.”
”Did he also tell you where he found me?”
”No, Princess.”
”Did he tell you that, being fetched hither, I was offered by my brother in marriage to a young Count Odo of the Rocca Serra, and that the poor boy slew himself with his own gun?”
I stuffed my hands deep in my pockets, and said I, standing over her--
”All this has been told me, Princess, though not the precise reason for it: and since you desire me to be frank I will tell you that I have given some thought to that dead lad--that rival of mine (if you will permit the word) whom I never knew. The mystery of his death is a mystery to me still; but in all my blind guesses this somehow remained clear to me, that he had loved you, Princess; and this (again I ask your leave to say it), because I could understand it so well, forbade me to think unkindly of him.”
”He loved his honour better, sir.” Her face had flushed darkly.