The Best Horrors by F. Marion Crawford. Francis Marion Crawford

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      CHAPTER VII.

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      It was late in the afternoon and Lady Brenda was seated alone upon the terrace of the Castello del Gaudio. A little table stood beside her, on which lay some writing materials and a couple of sealed letters, ready for the post. The rest of the party had gone upon a distant excursion on the water, but Lady Brenda had stayed at home to attend to her correspondence, which was one of her chief amusements and occupied much of her time. She had not ventured as yet to speak in her letters of the remarkable things which were occurring in her son-in-law's house. She was too much puzzled and at the same time too much interested as yet to explain to herself what happened. The strange thing, in her opinion, was that the apparitions did not strike her as supernatural, nor startle her so much as she would have supposed that ghosts should have done. There was an ease, a simplicity, and a perfect naturalness in their appearance and manner that disarmed prejudice and forbade fear. She wished to see more of them, and as she sat looking out over the water, while the freshness of the evening crept up to the terrace, her mind dwelt on the subject and she thought of the characters she would most like to see.

      In history, Francis the First of France was one of her favourites. If she had a rather modern tendency to laugh at romance, she had also, far down in her nature, a profound admiration of romantic characters in the past. Francis appealed to her taste. His courage, his beauty, his adventures, his victories, his tournaments and his love-affairs pleased her, and she had often said that if she had her choice of an historical person whom she might meet, she would choose him. She thought so now, and it seemed so possible, in the light of what had already happened, that she spoke aloud as though of a living person.

      "Yes," said she, " I would choose Francis the First. I wonder whether I could not send him an invitation by one of the others? "

      Almost immediately, she was aware that some one was on the terrace. She looked round and she saw that she had her wish. The king was advancing slowly towards her, his velvet cap in his hand. She was not startled now, and she smiled when she thought how easily and quickly her wish had been realised. Whether it was a dream or not, she was determined to enjoy it, and this particular dream was very pleasant. She knew now how much she had really wished to see the man who stood before her.

      Lady Brenda was somewhat surprised, and somewhat disappointed at the looks of her visitor. King Francis was undoubtedly imposing in appearance, of a fine presence and altogether a most noticeable man. He was taller than other men, broad-shouldered and straight-limbed, erect and evidently of great strength. His short, jet-black hair and pointed beard of the same hue set off his brilliant colouring and piercing black eyes; his forehead showed a good capacity of mind, and his strong nose argued ambition and personal courage. But there was in his manner and looks a lack of that refinement which especially characterised the other dead men Lady Brenda had known at Castello del Gaudio. He wore the dress of his time, as did each of the others—long hose of grey silk, with embroidered shoes, and a close-fitting doublet of maroon-coloured velvet, his only ornament being a heavy gold chain hung about his neck.

      Lady Brenda rose to receive her royal guest, and studied the details of his face and dress, illuminated by the glow of the setting sun, and thrown into relief against the cold background of the grey hills. Francis made a courteous salute and motioned Lady Brenda to be seated, himself taking the vacant armchair by her side.

      "It is so good of you to have asked me here," he said, fixing his eyes upon her and speaking in clear manly tones.

      "It was most kind of your majesty to take pity on my solitude," answered the lady, smiling.

      "I never allowed a lady to be alone when it was in my power to bear her company," returned Francis.

      "No," said Lady Brenda, rather nervously. " Your majesty was always fond of women's society. How can you live without it? "

      "I can hardly be said to live at all — though it seems that I am practically alive now, within the circle of your son-in-law's enchantments — I should say perhaps that I only live in your smiles. Existence in our circumstances is very monotonous."

      "You were so fond of brilliant changes, too," suggested Lady Brenda.

      " Change ! Ay — indeed I was. As a compensation I have not changed any clothes since the spring of 1547. That was three hundred and forty years ago. It is true that from what I have seen of more recent costumes I do not often regret the durability of my imperishable garments. As for the present fashions in the dress of ladies, something might be made of them by using respectable materials. I confess, however, I am surprised beyond measure at the stuffs you all wear — forgive my frankness — I seem to feel the affectation of too much simplicity in your appearance. Women as beautiful as you are could surely afford to dress better than women who are ugly."

      "Your majesty is very flattering," said Lady Brenda, with a slight blush of pleasure. " But in regard to dress I beg to differ from you. It is much more the thing to be simple nowadays — one is much more respected. And for that matter, the ugly women could dress gorgeously, too."

      "An ugly woman is ridiculous," said Francis. " The more she bedizens herself the more ridiculous she grows. But a beautiful woman can dress in cloth of gold and diamonds, and the richer her clothes, the more her beauty will shine."

      "You loved to see beautiful women richly dressed— it is true. I have read of it in your majesty's life. But the times have changed since then. I imagine the sudden appearance of Madame d'Etampes, in full court dress — "

      "Heaven forbid!" ejaculated Francis, crossing himself devoutly.

      "I thought your majesty was much attached to her," said Lady Brenda, calmly.

      " So I was — as the horse may be said to be much attached to the cart," answered the king. " I could not get rid of her. She drove me to distraction — but she drove me, nevertheless. There was nothing I could call my own, from the king's justice to the king's jewels. I verily believe that Anne did more harm than I did, which is saying something. The difference was that she did it with premeditation, whereas my evil deeds were chiefly of the lazy kind— sins of omission, perhaps of wrong conviction."

      "Your majesty did not omit to burn alive a number of persons belonging to my religion," said Lady Brenda, stiffly.

      "Madam," replied the king, "with your permission we will not discuss religious matters. I will only say that the Protestants with whom I had to do were Calvinists and that their church resembled yours about as nearly as a cellar resembles a court drawing-room — and I will take the liberty of pointing out that your Queen Elizabeth destroyed more Catholics than I ever destroyed Protestants, and that she did it in a more cruel way. I will not speak of my fickle friend Henry of England. His example adds too much weight to the argument. Madam, I would rather speak of Madame d'Etampes than of religious СКАЧАТЬ