The Life And Death Of Richard Yea And Nay Volume 91 - Maurice Hewlett (i wanna iguana read aloud txt) 📗
- Author: Maurice Hewlett
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Must Respect Her Prayers, He Must Needs Respect Her Person Also. The
King Thought Within Himself, "I Have Promised Madame De Saint-Pol That
I Will Never Strive With Her In Love; And I Will Not. Now Must I Promise
Almighty God That, In Her Life, I Will Not Strive So At All." Alas,
Madame, And Alas! Here The King Was Too Strong For The Girl; Here Her
Own Nobility Rose Up Against Her. Pity Her, Not Blame Her; And For The
King--I Dare To Say It--Find Pity As Well As Blame. All Those Who Love
His High Heart, His Crowned Head, Find Pity For Him In Theirs. For Many
There Are Who Do Better, Having No Occasion To Do As Ill; But There Can
Be None Who Mean Better, For None Have Such Great Motions.'
Milo Might Have Spared His Breath. The Queen Had Heard One Phrase Of All
His Speech, And During The Rest Had Pondered That. When He Had Done, She
Said, 'Fetch Me In This Lady. I Would Speak With Her.'
'Breast Shall Touch Breast Here,' Said Milo To Himself, Full Of Hope,
'And Mouth Meet Mouth. Courage, Old Heart.'
When The Tall Girl Was Brought In Queen Berengère Did Not Look At Her,
Nor Make Any Response To Her Deep Reverence; But Bade Her Fetch A Mirror
From The Table. In This She Looked At Herself Steadily For Some Time,
Smoothing And Coiling Back Her Hair, Arranging Her Neck-Covering So As
To Show Something Of Her Bosom, And So On. She Sent Jehane For Boxes Of
Unguent, Her Colour-Boxes, Brush For The Eyebrows, Powder For The Face.
Finally She Had Brought To Her A Little Crown Of Diamonds, And Set It In
Her Hair. After Patting Her Head And Turning It About And About, She Put
The Glass Down And Made A Long Survey Of Jehane.
'They Do Well,' She Said, 'Who Call You Sulky: You Have A Sulky Mouth.
I Allow Your Shape; But There Are Reasons For That. You Are Very Tall;
You Have A Long Throat. Green Eyes Are My Detestation--Fie, Turn Them
From Me. Your Hair Is Wonderful, And Your Skin. I Suppose Women Of The
North Are So Commonly. Come Nearer.' Jehane Obeying, The Queen Touched
Her Neck, Then Her Cheek. 'Show Me Your Teeth,' She Said. 'They Are
Strong And Good, But Much Larger Than Mine. Your Hands Are Big, And So
Are Your Ears; You Do Well To Cover Them. Let Me See Your Foot.' She
Peeped Over The Edge Of The Bed; Jehane Put Her Foot Out. 'It Is Not So
Large As I Expected,' Said The Queen, 'But Much Larger Than Mine.' Then
She Sighed And Threw Herself Back. 'You Are Certainly A Very Tall Girl.
And Twenty-Three Years Old? I Am Not Twenty Yet, And Have Had Fifty
Lovers. The Abbot Of Poictiers Said You Were Beautiful. Do You Think
Yourself So?'
'It Is Not My Part To Think Of It, Madame,' Said Jehane, Holding Herself
Rather Stiffly.
'You Mean That You Know It Too Well,' Said Berengère. 'I Suppose It Is
True. You Have A Fine Colour And A Fine Person--But That Is A Woman's.
Now Look At Me Carefully, And Say How You Find Me. Put Your Hand Here,
And Here, And Here. Touch My Hair; Look Well At My Eyes. My Hair Reaches
To My Knees When I Stand Up, To The Floor When I Sit Down. I Am A King's
Daughter. Do You Not Think Me Beautiful?'
'Yes, Madame. Oh, Madame--!' Jehane, Trembling Before Her Visions, Could
Hardly Stand Still; But The Queen (Who Had No Visions Now The Mirror Was
Put By) Went Plaining On.
'When I Was In My Father's Court His Poets Called Me Frozen Heart,
Because I Was Cold In Loving. Messire Bertran De Born Loved Me, And So
Did My Cousin The Count Of Provence, And The Count Of Orange, And
Raimbaut, And Gaucelm, And Ebles Of Ventadorn. Now I Have Found One
Colder Than Ever I Was, And I Am Burning. Are You A Great Lover Of The
King?'
Volume 91 Book 2 (The Book Of Nay) Chapter 6 (The Chapter Called Clytemnestra) Pg 142At This Question, Put So Quietly, Jehane Grew Grave. It Took Her Above
Her Sense Of Dangers, Being In Itself A Dignity. 'I Love The King So
Well, Queen Berengère,' She Said, 'That I Think I Shall Make Him Hate Me
In Time.'
'Folly,' Snapped The Queen, 'Or Guile. You Would Spur Him. Is It True
What The Abbot Milo Told Me?'
'I Know Not What He Has Told You,' Said Jehane; 'But It Is True That I
Have Not Dared Let The King Love Me, And Now Dare Least Of All.'
The Queen Clenched Her Hands And Teeth. 'You Devil,' She Said, 'How I
Hate You. You Reject What I Long For, And He Loathes Me For Your Sake.
You A Creature Of Nought, And I A King's Daughter.'
From The Nostrils Of Jehane The Breath Came Fluttering And Quick; In Her
Splendid Bosom Stirred A Storm That, If She Had Chosen To Let It Loose,
Could Have Shrivelled This Little Prickly Leaf: But She Replied Nothing
To The Queen's Hatred. Instead, With Eyes Fixed In Vacancy, And One Hand
Upon Her Neck, She Spoke Her Own Purpose And Lifted The Talk To High
Matters.
'I Touch Not Again Your King And Mine, O Queen. But I Go To Save Him.'
'Woman,' Said Berengère, 'Do You Dare Tell Me This? Are My Miseries
Nothing To You? Have You Not Worked Woe Enough?'
Jehane Suddenly Threw Her Hair Back, Fell Upon Her Knees, Lifted Her
Chin. 'Madame, Madame, Madame! I Must Save Him If I Die. I Implore Your
Pardon--I Must Go!'
'Why, What Can You Do Against Montferrat?' The Queen Shivered A Little:
Jehane Looked Fixedly At Her, Solemn As A Dying Nun.
'You Say That I Am Handsome,' She Said, Then Stopped. Then In A Very Low
Voice--'Well, I Will Do What I Can.' She Hung Her Golden Head.
The Queen, After A Moment Of Shock, Laughed Cruelly. 'I Suppose I Could
Not Wish You Anything Worse Than That. I Hate You Above All People In
The World, Mother Of A Bastard. Oh, It Will Be Enough Punishment. Go,
You Hot Snake; Leave Me.'
Jehane Rose To Her Feet, Bowed Her Head And Went Out. Next Moment The
Queen Must Have Whipped Out Of Bed, For She Caught Her Before She Could
Shut The Door, And Clung To Her Neck, Sobbing Desperately. 'O God,
Jehane, Save Richard! Have Mercy On Me, I Am Most Wretched.' Now The
Other Seemed To Be Queen.
'My Girl,' Said Jehane, 'I Will Do What I Promised.' She Kissed The
Scorching Forehead, And Went Away With Milo To Find Giafar Ibn Mulk.
To Get At Him It Was Necessary To Put The Girl Fanoum To The Question.
This Was Done. Giafar Ibn Mulk, Enticed Into The House, Proved To Be A
Young Man Of Prudence And Resource. He Could Not, He Said, Conduct Them
To His Master, Because He Had Been Told To Conduct The Marquess; But An
Equally Sure Guide Could Be Found, And There Were No Objections To His
Delaying His Own Illustrious Convoy For A Week Or More. Further Than
That He Could Not Go, Nor Did The Near Prospect Of Death, Which The
Abbot Exhibited To Him, Prove Any Inducement To The Alteration Of His
Mind. 'Death?' He Said, When The Implements Of That Were Before Him. 'If
I Am To Die, I Am To Die: Not Twice It Happens To A Man. But I Recommend
To These Priests The Expediency Of First Finding El Safy.' As This Was
Volume 91 Book 2 (The Book Of Nay) Chapter 6 (The Chapter Called Clytemnestra) Pg 143To Be Their Guide Up Lebanon, Those Priests Agreed. El Safy Also Agreed,
When They Had Him. A Galley Was Got Ready For Sea; The Provisional Grand
Master Of The Temple Wrote A Commendatory Letter To His 'Beloved Friend
In The One God, Sinan, Lord Of The Assassins, _Vetus De Monte_'; And
Then, In Two Days' Time, Milo The Abbot, Jehane With Her Little Fulke, A
Few Women, And El Safy (Their Master In The Affair), Left Acre For
Tortosa, Whence They Must Climb On Mule-Back To Lebanon.
Volume 91 Book 2 (The Book Of Nay) Chapter 7 (The Chapter Of The Sacrifice On Lebanon Also Called Cassandra) Pg 144
From The Haven At Acre To The Bill Of Tortosa Is Two Days' Sailing With
A Fair Wind. Thence, Climbing The Mountains, You Reach Musse In Four
Days More, If The Passes Are Open. If They Are Shut You Do Not Reach It
At All. High On Lebanon, Above The Frozen Gorge Where Orontes And
Leontes, Rivers Of Syria, Separate In Their Courses; Above The Terrace
Of Cedars, Above Shurky The Clouded Mountain, Lies A Deep Green Valley
Sentinelled On All Sides By Snow Peaks And By The Fortresses Upon Their
Tops. In The Midst Of That, Among Cedars And Lines Of Cypress Trees, Is
The White Palace Of The Lord Of The Assassins, As Big As A Town. A Man
May Climb From Pass To Pass Of Lebanon Without Striking Upon The Place;
Sighting It From Some Dangerous Crag, He May Yet Never Approach It. None
Visit The Old Man Of Musse But Those Who Court Death In One Of His
Shapes; And To Such He Never Denies It. Dazzling Snow-Curtains, Black
Hanging-Woods, Sheer Walls Of Granite, Frame It In: Looking Up On All
Sides You See The Soaring Pikes; And Deep Under A Coffer-Lid Of Blue It
Lies, Greener Than An Emerald, A Valley Of Easy Sleep. There In The
Great Chambers Young Men Lie Dreaming Of Women, And Sleek Boys Stand
About The Doorways With Cups Of Madness
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