Earl Hubert's Daughter

  CHAPTER TWO.

  "WHAT DO YOU LACK?"

  "If pestilence stalk through the land, ye say, This is God's doing. Is it not also His doing, when an aphis creepeth on a rosebud?"

  _Martin F. Tupper_.

  Earl Hubert was far too busy a man to waste his time in lounging onvelvet settles and exchanging sallies of wit with the ladies of hishousehold. He had done little more than give a cordial welcome toMarjory, and pat Margaret on the head, when he again disappeared, to beseen no more until supper-time.

  "Well, Magot," said Marjory, sitting down in the chair, while Margaretas before accommodated herself with a footstool at her feet, "let us geton with thy story. I want to know all about that affair two years ago.Thy fair father looks wonderfully well, methinks, considering all thathe has gone through."

  "Does he not? O Aunt Marjory, I scarcely know how I am to tell youabout that. It was dreadful,--dreadful!"

  And the tears stood in big drops on Margaret's eyelashes.

  "Well, I will try," she said, with a deep sigh, as Marjory stroked herhair. "In the first place, the year ended all very well. My fairfather had been created Justiciary of Ireland for life, and Constable ofthe Tower, and various favours had been granted to him. That he shouldbe on the brink of trouble--and such trouble!--was the very last thingthought of by any one of us. And then that Bishop of Winchester cameback, and before a soul knew anything about it, he was high in the LordKing's favour, and on the twenty-ninth of July--(I am not likely toforget _that_ date!)--the blow fell."

  "He was dismissed, then, was he not, from all his offices, without aword of warning?"

  "Dismissed and degraded, without a shadow of it!--and a string of themost cruel, wicked accusations brought against him--things that he neverdid nor dreamed of doing--Aunt Marjory, it makes my blood boil, only toremember them! I am not going to tell you all: there was one too horridto mention."

  "I know, my maiden." Marjory interposed rather hastily. She had heardalready of King Henry's delicate and affectionate assault upon the fairname of Margaret's mother, and she did not wish for a repetition of it.

  "But beyond that, of what do you think he was accused?"

  "I have not heard the other articles, Magot."

  "Then I will tell you. First, of preventing the Lord King's marriagewith the Duke of Austria's daughter, by telling the Duke that the Kingwas lame, and blind, and deaf, and a leper, and--"

  "Gently, Magot, gently!" said Marjory, laughing.

  "I am not making a syllable of it, fair Aunt!--And that he was a wicked,treacherous man, not worthy of the love or alliance of any noble lady._Pure foy_!--but I know what I should say, if I said just what I think."

  "It is sometimes quite as well not to do that, Magot."

  "Ha! Perhaps it is, when one may get into prison by it. It is acomfort one can always think. Neither Pope nor King can stop that."

  "Magot, my dear child!"

  "Oh yes, I know! You think I am horribly imprudent, Aunt Marjory. Butnobody hears me except you and Eva de Braose--she is the only person inthe wardrobe, and there is no one in the ante-chamber. And as I haveheard her say more than I did just now, I don't suppose there is muchharm done.--Then, secondly,--they charged my fair father with stealing--only think, _stealing_!--a magical gem from the royal treasury whichmade the wearer victorious in battle, and sending it to the Prince ofWales." [Llywelyn the Great, with whom King Henry was at war.]

  "Why should they suppose he would do that?"

  "_Pure foy_, Aunt Marjory, don't ask me! Then, thirdly, they said itwas--"

  Margaret sprang from her footstool suddenly, and disappeared for asecond through the door of the wardrobe. Marjory heard her say--

  "Eva! I had completely forgotten, till this minute, to tell Marie thatmy Lady and mother desired her to finish that piece of tapestryto-night, if she can. Do go and look for her, and let her know, or shewill not have time."

  A slight rustle as of some one leaving the room was audible, and thenMargaret dashed back to her footstool, as if she too had not a minute tolose.

  "You know, Aunt Marjory, I could not tell you the next thing with Evalistening. They said that it was by traitorous letters from my fairfather that the Prince of Wales had caused Sir William de Braose to behung."

  "Eva's father, thou meanest?"

  "Yes. Then they accused him of administering poison to my Lord ofSalisbury, of sending my cousin Sir Raymond to try and force the Lady ofSalisbury into marrying him while her lord was beyond seas, of poisoningmy Lord of Pembroke, Sir Fulk de Breaut, and my sometime Lord ofCanterbury's Grace. He might have spent his life in poisoning everybody! Then, lastly, they said he had obtained favour of the Lord Kingby help of the black art."

  Marjory smiled contemptuously. It was not because she was more freefrom superstition than other people, but simply because she knew fullwell that the only sorcery necessary to be used towards Henry the Thirdwas "the sorcery of a strong mind over a weak one." [Note 1.]

  "It was rather unfortunate," she said, "that my good Lord of Salisbury(whom God rest!) was seized with his last illness the very day after hehad supped at my fair brother's table."

  "Aunt Marjory!" cried her indignant niece. "Why, it is not a monthsince I was taken ill in the night, after I had supped likewise. Do yousuppose he poisoned me?"

  "It is quite possible that walnuts might have something to do with it,Magot. But did I say he poisoned any one?"

  "Now, Aunt Marjory, you are laughing at me, because you know I likethem. But don't you think it is absurd--the way in which people insiston fancying themselves poisoned whenever they are ill? It looks as ifevery human being were a monster of wickedness!"

  "What would Father Warner say they are, Magot?"

  "Oh, he would say it was perfectly true: and he would be right--so faras my Lord of Winchester and a few more are concerned.--Well, Eva, hastthou found Marie?"

  "Yes, my dear. She is with the Lady, and she is busy with thetapestry."

  "Oh, that is right! I am sorry I forgot."

  "And the Lady bade me tell thee, _mignonne_, that she is coming to thybower shortly, with a pedlar who is waiting in the court, to choosestuffs for thy Whitsuntide robes."

  "A pedlar! Delightful! Aunt Marjory, I am sure you want something?"

  Marjory laughed. "I want thy tale finished, Magot, before the pedlarcomes."

  "Too long, my dear Aunt Marjory, unless the pedlar takes all summer tomount the stairs. But you know my Lord and father fled into sanctuaryat Merton Abbey, and refused to leave it unless the Lord King wouldpledge his royal word for his safety. I don't think I should havethought it made much difference. (I wonder if that pedlar has anysilversmiths' work.) The Lord King did not pledge his word, but heordered the Lord Mayor and the citizens to fetch my fair father--onlythink of that, Aunt Marjory!--dead or alive. Some of the noblercitizens appealed to the Bishop, who was everything with the King justthen: but instead of interceding for my fair father, as they asked, hemerely confirmed the order. So twenty thousand citizens marched on theAbbey; and when my fair father knew that, he fled to the high altar, andembraced the holy cross with one hand, holding the blessed pix in theother."

  "Was our Lord in the pix?" inquired Marjory--meaning, of course, torefer to the consecrated wafer.

  "I am not sure, fair Aunt. But however, things turned out better thanseemed likely: for not only the Bishop of Chichester, but even my Lordof Chester--my fair father's great enemy--interceded with the Lord Kingin his behalf. We heard that my Lord of Chester spoke very plainly tohim, and told him not only that he would find it easier to draw a crowdtogether than to get rid of it again, but also that his fickleness wouldscandalise the world."

  "And the Lord King allowed him to say that?"

  "Yes, and it had a great effect upon him. I think people who are fickledon't like others to see it--don't you? Do you think that pedlar willhave any sendal [a silk stuff of extremely fine quality] of India?"

/>   "Thine eyes and half thy tongue are in the pedlar's pack, Magot. Icannot tell thee. But just let me know how it ended, and thy fairfather was set free."

  "Oh, it did not end for ever so long! My Lord's Grace of Dublin gotleave for him to come home and see my fair mother and me; and afterthat, when he had gone into Essex, the King sent after him again, andSir Godfrey de Craucumbe took him away to the Tower. They sent for asmith to put him in fetters, but the man would not do it when he heardwho was to wear the fetters. He said he would rather die than be theman to put chains on `that most faithful and noble Hubert, who so oftensaved England from the ravages of foreigners, and restored England toherself.' Aunt Marjory, I think he was a grand fellow! I would havekissed him if I had been there."

  As the kiss was at that time the common form of greeting between men andwomen, for a lady to offer a kiss to a man as a token that she approvedhis words or actions, was not then considered more demonstrative than itwould be to shake hands now. It was, in fact, not an unusualoccurrence.

  "And my fair father told us," pursued Margaret, "when he heard what thesmith said, he could not help thinking of those words of our Lord, whenHe thanked God that His mission had been hidden from the wise, butrevealed to the ignorant. `For,' our Lord said, `to Thee, my God, do Icommit my cause; for mine enemies have risen against me.'" [Note 2.]

  "And they took him to the Tower of London?"

  "Yes, but the Bishop of London was very angry at the violation ofsanctuary, and insisted that my fair father should be sent back. Hethreatened the King with excommunication, and of course that frightenedhim. He sent him back to the church whence he was taken, but commandedthe Sheriff of Essex to surround the church, so that he should neitherescape nor obtain food. But my fair father's true friend, my good oldLord of Dublin--(you were right, Aunt Marjory; all priests are notalike)--interposed, and begged the Lord King to do to him what he hadthought to do to my Lord and father. The Lord King then offered thechoice of three things:--my Lord and father must either abjure thekingdom for ever, or he must be perpetually imprisoned, or he mustopenly confess himself a traitor."

  "A fair choice, surely!"

  "Horrid, wasn't it?"

  "He chose banishment, did he not?"

  "He said, if the King willed it, he was content to go out of England fora time,--not for ever: but a traitor he would never confess himself, forhe had never been one."

  "The words of a true man!" said Marjory.

  "Splendid!--and then (Eva!--is that pedlar never coming up?) the LordKing found out that my fair father had laid up treasure in the Temple,and he actually accused him of taking it fraudulently from the royaltreasury, and summoned him to resign it. My fair father replied (Ishouldn't have done!) that he and all he had were at the King'spleasure, and sent an order to the Master of the Temple accordingly.Then--O Aunt Marjory, it is too long a tale to tell!--and I want thatpedlar. But I do think it was a shame, after all that, for the LordKing to profess to compassionate my Lord and father, and to say that hehad been faithful to our Lord King John of happy memory, [Note 3] andalso to our Lord King Richard (whom God pardon!); therefore,notwithstanding the ill-usage of himself, and the harm he had done thekingdom, he would rather pardon my fair father than execute him. `For,'he said, `I would rather be accounted a remiss king than a man ofblood.'"

  "Well, that does not sound bad, Magot."

  "Oh no! Words are very nice things, Aunt Marjory. And our Lord KingHenry can string them very prettily together. I have no patience--Isay, Eva! Do go and peep into the court and see what is becoming ofthat snail of a pedlar!"

  "He is in the hall, eating and drinking, Margaret."

  "Well, I am sure he has had as much as is good for him!--So then, AuntMarjory, my fair father was sent to Devizes: and many nobles becamesureties for him,--my Lord of Cornwall, the King's brother, amongothers. And while he was there, he heard of the death of his greatenemy, my Lord of Chester. Then he said, `The Lord be merciful to him:he was my man by his own doing, and yet he never did me good where hecould work me harm.' And he set himself before the holy cross, and sangover the whole Psalter for my Lord of Chester. Well, after that,--Icannot go into all the ups and downs of the matter,--but after a while,by the help of some of the garrison, my fair father contrived to escapefrom Devizes, and joined the Prince of Wales. That was last November;and he stayed in Wales until the King's journey to Gloucester. LastMarch the Lord King came here to the Abbey, and he granted severalmanors to my fair mother: and she took the opportunity to plead for myLord and father. So when the Lord King went to Gloucester, he was metby my Lord's Grace of Canterbury, who had been to treat with the Princeof Wales, and by his advice all those who had been outlawed, and hadsought refuge in Wales, were to be pardoned and received to favour. Oneof them, of course, was my fair father. So they met the Lord King atGloucester, and he took them to his mercy. My Lord and father said theLord King looked calmly on them, and gave them the kiss of peace. Butmy fair father himself was so much struck by the manner in which ourLord had repaid him his good deeds, that, as his varlet Adam told us, heclasped his hands, and looked up to Heaven, and he said,--`O Jesus,crucified Saviour, I once when sleeping saw Thee on the cross, piercedwith bloody wounds, and on the following day, according to Thy warning,I spared Thy image and worshipped it: and now Thou hast, in Thy favour,repaid me for so doing, in a lucky moment.'"

  It did not strike either Marjory or Margaret, as perhaps it may thereader, that this speech presented a very curious medley of devotion,thankfulness, barefaced idolatry, and belief in dreams and luckymoments. To their minds the mixture was perfectly natural. So much so,that Marjory's response was--

  "Doubtless it was so, Magot. It is always very unlucky to neglect adream."

  At this juncture Eva de Braose presented herself. She was one of threemaidens who were alike--as was then customary--wards of the Earl, andwaiting-maids of the Countess. They were all young ladies of high birthand good fortune, orphan heirs or co-heirs, whose usual lot it was,throughout the Middle Ages, to be given in wardship to some nobleman,and educated with his daughters. Eva de Braose, Marie de Lusignan, andDoucebelle de Vaux, [Eva and Marie (but not Doucebelle) are historicalpersons,] were therefore the social equals and constant companions ofMargaret. Eva was a rather pretty, fair-haired girl, about two yearsolder than our heroine.

  "The pedlar is coming now, Margaret."

  "_Ha, jolife_!" cried Margaret. [Note 4.] "Is my Lady and mothercoming?"

  "Yes, and both Hawise and Marie."

  Hawise de Lanvalay was the young wife of Margaret's eldest brother.Earl Hubert's family consisted, beside his daughter, of two sons of hisfirst marriage, John and Hubert, who were respectively about eighteenand fifteen years older than their sister.

  The Countess entered in a moment, bringing with her the young LadyHawise,--a quiet-looking, dark-eyed girl of some eighteen years; andMarie, the little Countess of Eu, who was only a child of eleven. Afterthem came Levina, one of the Countess's dressers, and two sturdyvarlets, carrying the pedlar's heavy pack between them. The pedlarhimself followed in the rear. He was a very respectable-looking oldman, with strongly-marked aquiline features and long white beard; and hebrought with him a lithe, olive-complexioned youth of about eighteenyears of age.

  The varlets set down the pack on the floor, and departed. The old manunstrapped it, and opening it out with the youth's help, proceeded todisplay his goods. Very rich, costly, and beautiful they were. Thefinest lawn of Cambray (whence comes "cambric"), and the purest sheetingof Rennes, formed a background on which were exhibited rich diaperedstuffs from Damascus, crape of all colours from Cyprus, golden baudekynsfrom Constantinople, fine sendal from India, with satins, velvets,silks, taffetas, linen and woollen stuffs, in bewildering profusion.Over these again were laid rich furs,--sable, ermine, miniver, blackfox, squirrel, marten, and lamb; and trimmings of gold and silver, gimpand beads, delicate embroidery, and heavy tinsel.

  "Here, Lady, is a lovely
thing in changeable sendal," said the old man,hunting for it among his silks: "it would be charming for thefair-haired damsel--(lift off that fox fur, Cress),--blue and gold. Orhere,--a striped tartaryn, which would suit the dark young lady,--orangeand green. Then--(Cress, give me the silver frieze),--this, Lady, wouldbe well for the little maid, for somewhat cooler weather. And will myLady see the Cyprus? (Hand the pink one, Cress.) This would make upenchantingly for the damsel that was in my Lady's chamber."

  "Where is Doucebelle?" asked the Countess, looking round. "I thoughtshe had come. Marie, run and fetch her.--Hast thou any broidery-work ofthe East Country, good man?"

  "One or two small things, Lady.--Cress, give me thy sister's scarves."

  The young man unfolded a woollen wrapper, and then a lawn one inside it,and handed to his father three silken scarves, of superlatively finetexture, and covered with most exquisite embroidery. Even the Countess,accustomed as her eyes were to beautiful things, was not able tosuppress an admiring ejaculation.

  "This _is_ lovely!" she said.

  "Those are samples," remarked the pedlar, with a gleam of pleasure inhis eyes. "I have more, of various patterns, if my Lady would wish tosee them. She has only to speak her commands."

  "Yes. But--these are all imported, I suppose?"

  "All imported, such as I have shown to my Lady."

  "I presume no broideress is to be found in England, who can do such workas this?" said the Countess in a regretful tone.

  "Did my Lady wish to find one?"

  "I wished to have a scarf in my possession copied, with a few variationswhich I would order. But I fear it cannot be done--it would be almostnecessary that I should see the broideress myself, to avoid mistakes;and I would fain, if it were possible, have had the work done under myown eye."

  "That might be done, perhaps. It would be costly."

  "Oh, I should not care for the cost. I want the scarf for a gift; andit is nothing to me whether I pay ten silver pennies or a hundred."

  "Would my Lady suffer her servant to see the scarf she wishes to haveimitated?"

  "Fetch it, Levina," said the Countess; "thou knowest which I mean."

  Levina brought it, and the pedlar gave it very careful inspection.

  "And the alterations?" he asked.

  "I would have a row of silver harebells and green ferns, touched withgold, as an outer border," explained the Countess: "and instead of thoseornaments in the inner part, I would have golden scrolls, worked withthe words `Dieu et mon droit' in scarlet."

  The pedlar shook his head. "The golden scrolls with the words can bedone, without difficulty. But I must in all humility represent to myLady that the flowers and leaves she desires cannot."

  "Why?" asked the Countess in a surprised tone.

  "Not in this work," answered the pedlar. "In this style ofembroidery"--and he took another scarf from his pack--"it could bewrought: but not in the other."

  "But that is not to be compared with the other!"

  "My Lady has well said," returned the pedlar with a smile.

  "But I do not understand where the difficulty lies?" said the Countess,evidently disappointed.

  "Let my Lady pardon her servant. We have in our company--nay, there isin all England--one broideress only, who can work in this style. And Idare not make such an engagement on her behalf."

  "Still I cannot understand for what reason?"

  "Lady, these flowers, leaves, heads, and such representations of createdthings, are the work of Christian hands. That broidery which my Ladydesires is not so."

  "But why cannot Christians work this broidery?"

  "Ha! They do not. My Lady's servant cannot speak further."

  "Then what is she who alone can do this work? What eyes and fingers shemust have!"

  "She is my daughter," answered the pedlar, rather proudly.

  "But I am sure the woman who can broider like this, is clever enough tomake a row of harebells and ferns!"

  "Clever enough,--oh yes! But--she could not do it."

  "`Clever enough,' but `could not do it'--old man, I cannot understandthee."

  "Lady, she would account it sin to imitate created things."

  The Countess looked up with undisguised amazement.

  "Why?"

  "Because the Holy One has forbidden us to make to ourselves any likenessof that which is in heaven above, or in the earth beneath."

  "But I would pay her any sum she asked."

  "If my Lady can buy Christian consciences with gold, not so a daughterof Israel."

  The old man spoke proudly now, and his head was uplifted in a verydifferent style from his previous subservient manner. His son's lip wascurled, and his black eyes were flashing fire.

  "Well! I do not understand it," answered the Countess, looking as muchannoyed as the sweet Princess Margaret knew how to look. "I should havethought thy daughter might have put her fancies aside; for what harm canthere be in broidering flowers? However, if she will not, she will not.She must work me a border of some other pattern, for I want the scarfwider."

  "That she can do, as my Lady may command." The old Jew was once morethe obsequious tradesman, laying himself out to please a profitablecustomer.

  "What will be the cost, if the scarf be three ells in length, and--letme see--about half an ell broad?"

  "It could not be done under fifteen gold pennies, my Lady."

  "That is costly! Well, never mind. If people want to make rich gifts,they must pay for them. But could I have it by Whitsuntide?--that is, afew days earlier, so as to make the gift then."

  The pedlar reflected for a moment.

  "Let my Lady pardon her servant if he cannot give that answer at thismoment. If my daughter have no work promised, so that she can give hertime entirely to this, it can be done without fail. But it is some dayssince my Lady's servant saw her, and she may have made some engagementsince."

  "I am the better pleased thou art not too ready to promise," said theCountess, smiling. "But what about the work being done under my eye? Iwill lodge thy daughter, and feed her, and give her a gold penny extrafor it."

  The old Jew looked very grave.

  "Let my Lady not be angered with the lowest of her servants! But--weare of another religion."

  "Art thou afraid of my converting her?" asked the Countess, in an amusedtone.

  "Under my Lady's pardon--no!" said the old man, proudly. "I can trustmy daughter. And if my noble Lady will make three promises onwhatsoever she holds most holy, the girl shall come."

  "She should be worth having, when she is so hard to get at!" respondedthe Countess, laughing, as she took from her bosom a beautiful littlesilver crucifix, suspended by a chain of the same material from herneck, "Now then, old man, what am I to swear?"

  "First, that my daughter shall not be required to work in any manner onthe holy Sabbath,--namely, as my Lady will understand it, from sunset onFriday until the same hour on Saturday."

  "That I expected. I know Jews are very precise about their Sabbaths.Very well,--so that the scarf be finished by Wednesday beforeWhitsuntide, that I swear."

  "Secondly, by my Lady's leave, that she shall not be compelled to eatany thing contrary to our law."

  "I have no desire to compel her. But what will she eat? I must knowthat I can give her something."

  "Any kind of vegetables, bread, milk, and eggs."

  "Lenten fare. Very well. I swear it."

  "Lastly, that my Lady will appoint her a place in her own apartments, orin those of the damsel her daughter, and that she may never stir out ofthat tower while she remains in the Castle."

  "Poor young prisoner! Good. If thou art so anxious to consign thychild to hard durance, I will swear to keep her in it."

  "May my Lady's servant ask where she will be?"

  The Countess laughed merrily. "This priceless treasure of thine! Shemight be a king's daughter. I will put her in my daughter'sante-chamber, just behind thee."

  The pedlar wa
lked into the ante-chamber, and inspected it carefully, tothe great amusement of the ladies.

  "It is enough," he said, returning. "Lady, my child is not a king'sdaughter, but she is the dearest treasure of her old father's heart."

  The old man had well spoken, for his words, Jew as he was--a creature,according to the views of that day, born to be despised andill-treated--went straight to the tender heart of the Princess Margaret.

  "'Tis but nature," she said softly. "Have no fear, old man: I will takecare of thy treasure. What is her name?"

  "Will my Lady suffer her grateful servant to kiss her robe? I amAbraham of Norwich, and my daughter's name is Belasez."

  Singular indeed were the Jewish names common at this time, beyond a veryfew Biblical ones, of which the chief were Abraham, Aaron, and Moses--the last usually corrupted to Moss or Mossy. They were, for men,--Delecresse ("Dieu le croisse"), Ursel, Leo, Hamon, Kokorell, Emendant,and Bonamy:--for women,--Belasez ("Belle assez"), Floria, Licorice(these three were the most frequent), Esterote, Cuntessa, Belia, Anegay,Rosia, Genta, and Pucella. They used no surnames beyond the name of thetown in which they lived.

  "And what years has she?" asked the Countess.

  "Seventeen, if it please my Lady."

  "Good. I hope she will be clever and tractable.--Now, Madge, what do_you_ want?"

  The Princess Marjory wanted a silver necklace, a piece of green silk fora state robe, and some unshorn wool for an every-day dress, besidelamb's fur and buttons for trimming. Buttons were fashionable ornamentsin those days, and it was not unusual to spend six or eight dozen uponone dress.

  "Now, Magot, let me see for thee," said her mother. "Thy two woollengowns must be shorn for winter, and thou wilt want a velvet one for galadays: but there is time for that by and bye. What thou needest now is ablue Cyprus [crape] robe for thy best summer one, two garments ofcoloured thread for common, a silk hood, one or two lawn wimples [Note5], and a pair of corsets. [Note 6.] Thou mayest have a new armilaus[Note 7] if thou wilt."

  "And may I not have a new mantle?" was Margaret's answer, in a coaxingtone.

  "A new mantle? Thou unconscionable Magot! Somebody will be ruinedbefore thy wants are supplied."

  "And a red velvet gipciere, Lady? And I _did_ so want a veil of sendalof Inde!"

  "Worse and worse! Come, old man, prithee, measure off the Cyprus, andlook out the wimples quickly, or this damsel of mine will leave me nevera farthing in my pocket."

  "And Eva wants a new gown," suggested Margaret.

  "Oh yes!" said the Countess, laughing. "And so does Marie, and so doesDoucebelle, I suppose,--and Hawise, I have no doubt. I shall becompletely ruined among you!"

  "But my Lady will give me the sendal of Inde? I will try to do withoutthe gipciere."

  A gipciere was a velvet bag dependent from the waist, which served as apurse or pocket, as occasion required.

  "Magot, hast thou no conscience? Come, then, old man, let thisunreasonable damsel see thy gipcieres. And if she must have some sendalof Inde, well,--fate is inevitable. What was the other thing, Magot? Anew mantle? Oh, shocking! I can't afford that. What is the price ofthy black cloth, old man?"

  It was easy to see that Margaret would have all she chose to ask,without much pressure. Some linen dresses were also purchased for theyoung wards of the Earl,--a blue fillet for Eva, and a new barm-cloth[apron] for Marie; and the Countess having chosen some sendal and lawnfor her own use, the purchases were at last completed.

  The old Jew, helped by Delecresse, repacked his wares with such care astheir delicacy and costliness required, and the Countess desired Levinato summon the varlets to bear the heavy burden down to the gate.

  "Peace wait on my Lady!" said the pedlar, bowing low as he took leave."If it please the Holy One, my Belasez shall be here at my Lady'scommand before a week is over."

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Note 1. This was the answer given to her judges, four hundred yearslater, by Leonora Galigai, when she was asked to confess what kind ofmagic she had employed to obtain the favour of Queen Maria de' Medici.

  Note 2. The Earl's quotation from Scripture was extremely free,combining Matthew eleven verse 25 with the substance, but not the exactwords, of several passages in the Psalms. Nor did Friar Matthew Parisknow much better, since he refers to it all as "that passage in theGospels."

  Note 3. King Henry was given to allusions of this class, to the reveredmemory of his excellent father.

  Note 4. "Oh, delightful!" The modern schoolboy's "How jolly" is reallya corruption of this. The companion regret was "Ha, chetife!"--("Oh,miserable!")

  Note 5. The wimple covered the neck, and was worn chiefly out of doors.Ladies from a queen to a countess wore it coming over the chin; womenof less rank, beneath.

  Note 6. Tight-lacing dates from about the twelfth century.

  Note 7. A short cloak, worn by both sexes, ornamented with buttons.