The Courtship of Morrice Buckler: A Romance

  CHAPTER XIX.

  IN THE PAVILION. I EXPLAIN.

  The marriage, with its odd customs of the Ehrengang and Ehrentanz,might at another time have afforded me the entertainment which FatherSpaur promised; but, to speak the truth, the whole ceremony wearied mebeyond expression. My thoughts were set in a tide towards the evening,and I watched the sun loiter idly down the length of the valley in aburning fever of impatience.

  'Twas about seven of the clock when the villagers flocked up to theCastle and began their antic dances in the Hall and in the ball-roomwhich fronted the terrace. They aimed at a display of agility ratherthan of elegance, leaping into the air and falling crack upon theirknees, slapping their thighs and the soles of their feet, with manyother barbaric gambols; and all the while they kept up such a noise ofshouting, whistling, and singing, as fairly deafened one.

  Ilga, I observed with some heart-sinking, had once more robed herselfin black, and very simply; but the colour so set off the brightness ofher hair, which was coiled in a coronal upon her head, and the whitebeauty of her arms, that for all my fears I could not but think shehad never looked so exquisitely fair. However, I had thought the sameupon so many different occasions that I would not now assert it as anindisputable fact.

  As you may be certain, I had not copied Ilga's simplicity, but hadrather dressed in the opposite extreme. 'Twas no part of my policy toshow her the disrespect of plain apparel. I had so little to offerthat I must needs trick that little out to the best of advantage;indeed, even at this distance of time, I fairly laugh when I recallthe extraordinary pains I spent that evening upon my adornment. MyLord Culverton could never have bettered them. A coat of whitebrocaded velvet, ruffles that reached to the tips of my fingers, acravat of the finest Mechlin, pink breeches, silk stockings rolledabove the knees, with gold clocks and garters, white Spanish leathershoes with red heels and Elmscott's buckles, a new heavy black peruke;so I attired myself for this momentous interview.

  Father Spaur greeted me with a sour smile and a sneering compliment;but 'twas not his favour that I sought, and I cared little that heshowed so plainly his resentment.

  "A carriage," he added, "will be in waiting for you at eleven, if youare still minded to leave us."

  I thanked him shortly, and passed on to Ilga, but for some while Icould get no private speech with her. For though she took no part inthe dancing, even when a quieter measure made a break in theboisterous revelry, she moved continually from one to the other of hervillagers with a kindly smile and affable word for each in a spirit ofso sweet a condescension, that I had no doubt that she had vauntedtheir loyalty most truthfully. 'Twould have been strange, indeed, ifthey had not greatly worshipped her.

  In the midst of the clatter, however, and near upon the hour of nine,a man burst wildly into the room, faltering out that the "Wildthurm"bell was even now ringing its message to Lukstein.

  On the instant the music was stopped; a great awe fell upon the noisythrong; women clung in fear to men, and men crossed themselves with amuttering of tremulous prayers; and then Ilga led the way through theHall into the courtyard of the Castle.

  The ice-fields of the mountain glittered like silver in the moonlight,and we gazed upwards towards them with our ears strained to catch thesound. Many, I know, will scoff at and question what I relate. Manyhave already done so, attributing it to a delusion of the senses, aheated imagination, or any other of the causes which are held toabsolve the spirits of the air from participation in men's affairs.

  Against such unholy disbelief it is not for me to argue or dispute,nor is this the fitting place and opportunity. But this I do attest,and to it I do solemnly put my name. 'Twas not I alone who heard thebell; every man and woman who danced that night at Lukstein Castleheard it. The sound was faint, but wonderfully pure and clear, thestrokes of the hammer coming briskly one upon the other as though thebell was tossed from side to side by willing hands.

  "It speaks of happiness for Lukstein," said Father Spaur with an evilglance towards me.

  For my part I just looked at Ilga.

  "Come!" she said.

  And we walked back through the empty echoing Hall, and across the lawnto the terrace.

  A light wind was blowing from the south, but there were no clouds inthe sky, and the valley lay beneath us with all its landmarks mergedby the grey, tender light, so that it seemed to have widened to doubleits breadth.

  The terrace, however, was for the most part in shadow, since the moon,hanging behind a cluster of trees at the east corner of the wall, onlysprinkled its radiance through a tracery of boughs, and drew a dancingpattern about our feet. As I leaned upon the parapet there came beforemy eyes, raised by I know not what chance suggestion, a vivid pictureof my little far-away hamlet in the country of the English lakes.

  "You are thoughtful, Mr. Buckler!" said Ilga.

  "I was thinking of the valley of Wastdale," I replied, "and of acarrier's cart stuck in a snowdrift on Hard Knot."

  "Of your home? 'Twas of your home that you were thinking?" she askedcuriously, and yet with something more than curiosity in her voice,with something of regret, something almost of pity.

  "Not so much of my home," I replied, "but rather from what distantpoints our two lives have drawn together." I was emboldened to thewords by the tone in which she had spoken. "A few weeks ago you werehere at Lukstein in the Tyrol, I was at the Hall in Cumberland, and wehad never spoken to one another. How strange it all seems!"

  "Nay," she answered simply; "it was certain you and I should meet. Isnot God in His heaven?"

  My heart gave a great leap. We had come now to the pavilion, whichleaned against the Castle wall, and Ilga opened the door and enteredit. I followed her, and closed the latch behind me.

  In the side of the room there was a square window with shutters, butno glass. The shutters were open, and through a gap of the trees themoonlight poured into the pavilion.

  We stood facing one another silently. The time had come for me tospeak.

  "Well," said she, and her voice was very calm, "what is it, Mr.Buckler?"

  All my fine arguments and protestations flew out of my head like birdsstartled from a nest. I forgot even the confession I had to make toher, and

  "I love you!" I said humbly, looking down on the floor.

  She gave me no answer. My heart fainted within me; I feared that itwould stop. But in a little I dared to raise my eyes to her face. Shestood in the pillar of moonlight, her eyes glistening, but with noexpression on her face which could give me a clue to her thoughts, andshe softly opened and shut her fan, which hung on a girdle about herwaist.

  "How I do love you!" I cried, and I made a step towards her. "But youknow that."

  She nodded her head.

  "I took good care you should," she said.

  I did not stop to consider the strangeness of the speech. My desireconstrued it without seeking help from the dictionary of thought.

  "Then you wished it," I cried joyfully, and I threw myself down on myknee at her feet, and buried my face in my hands. "Ilga! Ilga!"

  She made no movement, but replied in a low voice:

  "With all my heart I wished it. How else could I have brought you tothe Tyrol?"

  I felt the tears gathering into my eyes and my throat choking. Ilifted my face to hers, and, taking courage from her words, clipped myarms about her waist.

  She gave a little trembling cry, and plucked at my fingers. I buttightened my clasp.

  "Ilga!" I murmured. 'Twas the only word which came to my lips, but itsummed the whole world for me then--ay, and has done ever since."Ilga!"

  Again she plucked at my fingers, and for all the calmness which shehad shown, I could feel her hands burning through her gloves. Then ashadow darkened for an instant across the window, the moonlight faded,and her face was lost to me. 'Twas for no longer than an instant. Ilooked towards the window, but Ilga bent her head down between it andme.

  "Tis only the branches s
winging in the wind," she said softly.

  I rose to my feet and drew her towards me. She set her palms againstmy chest as if to repulse me, but she said no word, and I saw thenecklace about her throat flashing and sparkling with the heave of herbosom.

  It seemed to me that a light step sounded without the pavilion, and Iturned my head aside to listen.

  "Tis only the leaves blowing along the terrace," she whispered, and Ilooked again at her and drew her closer.

  For a time she resisted; then I heard her sigh, and her hand stoleacross my shoulder. Her head drooped forward until her hair touched mylips. I could feel her heart beating on my breast. Gently I turned herface upwards, and then with a loud clap the shutters were flung to andthe room was plunged in darkness.

  Ilga started away from me, drawing a deep breath as for some release.I groped my way to the window. The shutters opened outwards, and Ipushed against them. They were held close and fast.

  A wooden settle stood against the wall just beneath the window, and Iknelt on it and drove at the shutters with my shoulder. They gave alittle at first, and I heard a whispered call for help. The pressurefrom without was redoubled; I was forced back; a bar fell across themoutside and was fitted into a socket. Thrust as I might I could notbreak it; the window was securely barricadoed.

  Meanwhile Ilga had not spoken. "Ilga!" I called.

  She did not answer me, nor in the blackness of the pavilion could Idiscover where she stood.

  "Ilga!"

  The same empty silence. I could not even hear her breathing, and yetshe was in the pavilion, within a few feet of me. There was somethinghorrible in her quietude, and a great fear of I knew not what caughtat my heart and turned my blood cold.

  "This is the priest's doing," I cried, and I drew my sword and madetowards the door.

  A startled cry burst from the gloom behind me.

  "Stop! If you open it, you will be killed."

  I stopped as she bade me, body and brain numbed in a common inaction.I could hear her breathing now plainly enough.

  "This is not the priest's doing," she said, at length. "It is thewife's." Her voice steadied and became even as she spoke. "From thehour I found Count Lukstein dead I have lived only for this night."

  I let my sword slip from my grasp, and it clattered and rang on thefloor.

  'Twas not surprise that I felt; ever since the shutters had beenslammed I seemed to have known that she would speak those words. And'twas no longer fear. Nor did I as yet wonder how she came by herknowledge. Indeed, I had but one thought, one thought of overwhelmingsadness, and I voiced it in utter despondency.

  "So all this time--in London, here, a minute ago, you were trickingme! Tricking me into loving you; then tricking my love for you!"

  "A minute ago!" she caught me up, and there was a quiver in her voiceof some deep feeling. Then she broke off, and said, in a hard, cleartone: "I was a woman, and alone. I used a woman's weapons."

  Again she paused, but I made no answer. I had none to make. Sheresumed, with a flash of anger, as though my silence accused her:

  "And was there no trickery on your side, too?"

  They were almost the same words as those which Marston had levelled atme, and I imagined that they conveyed the same charge. However, itseemed of little use or profit to defend myself at length, and Ianswered:

  "I have played no part. It might have fared better with me if I had.What deceit I have practised may be set down to love's account. 'Twasmy fear of losing you that locked my lips. Had I not loved you, whatneed to tell you my secret? 'Twas no crime that I committed. But sinceI loved you, I was bound in very truth to speak. I have known thatfrom the first, and I pledged myself to speak at the moment that Itold you of my love. I dared not disclose the matter before. There wasso little chance that I should win your favour, even had everycircumstance seconded my suit. But this very night I should have toldyou the truth."

  "No doubt! no doubt!" she answered, with the bitterest irony, and Iunderstood what a fatal mistake I had made in pleading my passionbefore disclosing the story of the duel. I should have begun from theother end. "And no doubt you meant also to tell me, with the same openfrankness, of the woman for whose sake you killed my--my husband?"

  "I fought for no woman, but for my friend."

  She laughed; surely the hardest, most biting laugh that ever manheard.

  "Tell me your fine story now."

  I sank down on the settle, feeling strangely helpless in the face ofher contempt.

  "This is the priest's doing," I repeated, more to myself than to her.

  "It is my doing," she said again; "my doing from first to last"

  "Then what was it?" I asked, with a dull, involuntary curiosity. "Whatwas it you had neither the weakness to yield to nor the strength toresist?"

  She did not answer me, but it seemed as though she suddenly put out ahand and steadied herself against the wall.

  "Tell me your story," she said briefly; and sitting there in thedarkness, unable to see my mistress, I began the history of thatNovember night.

  "It is true that I killed Count Lukstein; but I killed him in openencounter. I fought him fairly and honourably."

  "At midnight!" she interrupted. "Without witnesses, upon hiswedding-day."

  "There was blood upon Count Lukstein's sword," I went on doggedly,"and that blood was mine. I fought him fairly and honourably. I own Icompelled him to fight me."

  "You and your--companion."

  She stressed the word with an extraordinary contempt.

  "My companion!" I repeated in surprise. "What know you of mycompanion? My companion watched our horses in the valley."

  "You dare to tell me that?" she cried, ceasing from her contempt, andsuddenly lifting her voice in an inexplicable passion.

  "It is the truth."

  "The truth! The truth!" she exclaimed, and then, with a stamp of herfoot, and in a ringing tone of decision, "Otto!"

  The door was flung open. Otto Krax and Michael Groder blocked theopening, and behind them stood Father Spaur, holding a lighted torchabove his head. The Tyrolese servants carried hangers in their hands.I can see their blades flashing in the red light now!

  Silently they filed into the pavilion. Father Spaur lifted his torchinto a bracket, latched the door, and leaned his back against thepanels. All three looked at the Countess, waiting her orders. 'Twasplain, from the priest's demeanour, that Ilga had spoken no more thantruth. In this matter she was the mistress and the priest theservitor.

  I turned and gazed at her. She stood erect against the wall oppositeto me, meeting my gaze, her face stern and set, as though carven outof white marble, her eyes dark and glittering with menace.

  For my part, I rose from the settle and stood with folded arms. I didnot even stoop to pick up my rapier; it seemed to me not worth while.

  "The proper attitude of heroical endurance," sneered Father Spaur."Perhaps a little more humility might become 'a true son of theChurch.' Was not that the phrase?"

  The Countess nodded to Otto. He took Groder's sword and stood it withhis own, by a low stool in the corner near the door.

  "'Tis your own fault," she said sternly. "Even now I would have sparedyou had you told me the truth. But you presume too much upon myfolly."

  The next moment the two men sprang at me. The manner of their attacktook me by surprise, and in a twinkling they had me down upon thebench. Then, however, a savage fury flamed up within me. 'Twas onething to be run through at the command of Ilga, and so perish decentlyby the sword; 'twas quite another to be handled by her servants, and Ifought against the indignity with all my strength. But the strugglewas too unequal. I should have proved no match for Otto had he stoodalone, and I before him, fairly planted on my legs. With the pair ofthem to master me I was well-nigh as powerless as a child. Moreover,they had already forced me down by the shoulders, so that the edge ofthe settle cut across my back just below the shoulder-blades, and Icould get no more purchase or support than the soles of my feet on therough fl
ooring gave me.

  My single chance lay in regaining possession of my rapier. It lay justwithin my reach, and struggling violently with my left arm, in orderto the better conceal my design, I stretched out the other cautiouslytowards it.

  My fingers were actually on the pommel, I was working it nearer to meso that I might grasp the blade short, before Groder perceived myintention. With an oath he kicked it behind him. Otto set a huge kneecalmly upon my chest, and pressed his weight upon it until I thoughtmy spine would snap. Then he seized my arms, jerked them upwards, andheld them outstretched above my head, keeping his knee the whilejammed down upon my ribs. Groder drew a cord from his pocket, andturning back my sleeves with an ironic deliberation, bound my wriststightly together.

  "'Twas not for nothing Groder went a-valeting," laughed Father Spaur;and then, seeing that I was assisted in my struggle by the pressurewhich I got from the floor, "Twere wise to repeat the ceremony withhis ankles."

  "You, Groder!" said Otto.

  "I have no more cord," growled Michael, as he tied the knots viciouslyabout my wrists.

  Something rattled lightly on the ground. 'Twas the girdle of theCountess, with the fan attached to the end of it.

  Groder plucked the fan off, struck my heels from under me, and boundthe girdle round and round my ankles until they jarred together and Ifelt the bones cracking.

  Otto took his knee from my chest, and the two men went back to theirformer stations by the door.

  Father Spaur came over to where I lay, rubbing his hands gentlytogether.

  "Really, really!" said he in a silky voice, "so the cockatoo has beencaged after all."

  The words, recalling that morning in London when first I allowedmyself to take heart in my hopes, so stung me that, tied as I was, Istruggled on to my feet, and so stood tottering. Father Spaur drewback a pace and glanced quickly about him.

  "Michael!" he called. But the next instant I fell heavily forward uponhis breast. He burst into a loud laugh of relief, and flung me backupon the settle.

  I looked towards Ilga.

  "What have you not told him?" I asked.

  "Nothing!" she said coldly. "I, at all events, had nothing toconceal."

  She motioned Father Spaur to fall back. Otto and Groder picked uptheir swords. Father Spaur unlatched the door, rubbed out the torchupon the boards, and one after another they stepped from the pavilion.Ilga followed last, but she did not turn her head as she went out.Through the open doorway I could see the shadows dancing on theterrace, I could hear the music pouring from the Castle in a liltingmeasure. The door closed, the pavilion became black once more, and Iheard their footsteps recede across the pavement and grow silent uponthe grass.