The Lady of the Mount. Isham Frederic Stewart

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      "That's just what I can't tell you," she answered, sweeping a courtesy that fitted the rhythm of the music. "Only a face I should remember!"

      "Should?" The Marquis' look followed hers.

      But the subject of their conversation, as if divining the trend of their talk, had drawn back.

      "Oh, he is gone now," she answered.

      "A malcontent, perhaps! One meets them nowadays."

      "No, no! He did not look – "

      "Some poor fellow, then, your beauty has entrapped?" he insinuated. "Humble admirer!"

      "Then I would remember him!" she laughed as the dance came to an end.

      Now in a tented pavilion, servants, richly garbed in festal costume, passed among the guests, circulating trays, bright with golden dishes and goblets, stamped with the ancient insignia of the Mount, and once the property of the affluent monks, early rulers of the place. Other attendants followed, bearing light delicacies, confections and marvelous frosted towers and structures from the castle kitchen.

      "The patron saint in sugar!" Merry exclamations greeted these examples of skill and cunning. "Are we to devour the saint?"

      "Ah, no; he is only to look at!"

      "But the Mount in cake – ?"

      "You may cut into that – though beware! – not so deep as the dungeons!"

      "A piece of the cloister!"

      "A bit of the abbey!"

      "And you, Elise?"

      The girl reached gaily. "A little of the froth of the sea!"

      Meanwhile, not far distant, a barrel had been broached and wine was being circulated among the people. There, master of ceremonies, Beppo dispensed advice with the beverage, his grumbling talk heard above the light laughter and chatter of the lords and ladies.

      "Drink to his Excellency!" As he spoke, the Governor's man, from the elevated stand upon which he stood, gazed arrogantly around him. "Clods! Sponges that sop without a word of thanks! Who only think of your stomachs! Drink to the Governor, I say!"

      "To the Governor!" exclaimed a few, but it might have been noticed they were men from the town, directly beneath the shadow of his Excellency's castle, and now close within reach of the fat factotum's arm.

      "Once more! Had I the ordering of wine, the barrels would all be empty ones, but her ladyship would be generous, and – "

      Beppo broke abruptly off, his wandering glance, on a sudden, arrested.

      "Hein!" he exclaimed, with eyes protruding.

      A moment he stammered a few words of surprise and incredulity, the while he continued to search eagerly – but now in vain! The object of his startled attention, illumined, for an instant, on the outskirts of the throng, by the glare of a torch, was no more to be descried. As questioning the reality of a fleeting impression, his gaze fixed itself again near the edge of flickering lights; shifted uncertainly to the pavilion where servants from the Mount hurried to and fro; then back to the people around him. His jaw which had dropped grew suddenly firm.

      "Clear a space for the dance!" he called out in tones impatient, excited. "It is her ladyship's command – so see you step blithely! And you fellows there, with the tambourin and hautbois, come forward!"

      Two men, clad in sheepskin and carrying rude instruments, obediently advanced, and at once, in marked contrast to the recent tinkling measures of the orchestra, a wild, half-barbaric concord rang out.

      But the Governor's man, having thus far executed the orders he had received, did not linger to see whether or not his own injunction, "to step blithely," was observed; some concern, remote from gaillarde, gavotte or bourrée of the people, caused him hastily to dismount from his stand and make his way from the throng. As he started at a rapid pace across the sands, his eyes, now shining with anticipation, looked back.

      "What could have brought him here? Him!" he repeated. "Ah, my fine fellow, this should prove a lucky stroke for me!" And quickening his step, until he almost ran, Beppo hurried toward the tower gate of the Mount.

      CHAPTER V

      AN INTERRUPTION

      "They seem not to appreciate your fête champêtre, my Lady!" At the verge of the group of peasant dancers, the Lady Elise and the Marquis de Beauvillers, who had left the other guests to the enjoyment of fresh culinary surprises, paused to survey a scene, intended, yet failing, to be festal. For whether these people were too sodden to avail themselves of the opportunity for merrymaking, or liked not the notion of tripping together at Beppo's command, their movements, which should have been free and untrammeled as the vigorous swing of the music, were characterized only by painful monotony and lagging. In the half-gloom they came together like shadows; separated aimlessly and cast misshapen silhouettes – caricatures of frolicking peasants – on the broad surface of the sands beyond. These bobbing, black spots my lady disapprovingly regarded.

      "They seem not in the mood, truly!" tapping her foot on the beach.

      "Here – and elsewhere!" he laughed.

      But the Governor's daughter made an impatient movement; memories of the dance, as she had often seen it, when she was a child at the Mount, recurred to her. "They seem to have forgotten!" Her eyes flashed. "I should like to show them."

      "You? My Lady!"

      She did not answer; pressing her red lips, she glanced sharply around. "Stupid people! Half of them are only looking on! When they can dance, they won't, and – " She gave a slight start, for near her, almost at her elbow, stood the young seaman she had observed only a short time before, when the minuet was in progress. His dark eyes were bent on her and she surprised on his face an expression half derisory, half quizzical. Her look changed to one of displeasure.

      "You are not dancing?" severely.

      "No, my Lady." Too late, perhaps, he regretted his temerity – that too unveiled and open regard.

      "Why not?" more imperiously.

      "I – " he began and stopped.

      "You can dance?"

      "A little, perhaps – "

      "As well as they?" looking at the people.

      "Wooden fantoccini!" said the man, a flicker of bold amusement returning to his face.

      "Fantoccini?" spoke the girl impatiently. "What know you of them?"

      "We Breton seamen sail far, on occasion."

      "Far enough to gain in assurance!" cried my lady, with golden head high, surveying him disdainfully through half-closed, sweeping lashes. "But you shall prove your right."

      "Right?" asked the fellow, his eyes fixed intently upon her.

      "The right of one who does not dance – to criticize those who do!" she said pointedly, and made, on the sudden, an imperious gesture.

      He gave СКАЧАТЬ