The Geste of Duke Jocelyn Part 39

"Nay, not--not thy--singing."

"Is 't then this cap o' Folly--my a.s.s's ears, Yolande? Then away with them!

So shalt jester become very man as thou art very maid!" Forthwith he thrust back his c.o.c.k's-comb and so stood gazing up at her wide-eyed.

But she, beholding thus his scarred face, shivered again, shrinking a little, whereupon Jocelyn bowed his head, hiding his features in his long, black-curling hair.

"Alas, my lady!" he said, "doth my ill face offend thee? This would I put off also for thy sake an it might be, but since this I may not do, close thou thine eyes a while and hear me speak. For now do I tell thee, Yolande, that I--e'en I that am poor jester--am yet a man loving thee with man's love. I that am one with face thus hatefully scarred do seek thee in thy beauty to my love--"

"Presumptuous Fool, how darest thou speak me thus?" she whispered.

"For that great love dareth greatly, Yolande."

"And what of thy lord? How of Duke Jocelyn, thy master?"

"He is but man, lady, even as I. Moreover for thee he existeth not since thou hast ne'er beheld him--to thy knowing."

"Nay, then--what of this?" she questioned, drawing the jewelled picture from her bosom.

"'T is but what it is, lady, a poor thing of paint!"

"But sheweth face of n.o.ble beauty, Fool!"

"Aye, n.o.bly painted, Yolande! A thing of daubed colours, seeing naught of thy beauty, speaking thee no word of love, whiles here stand I, a sorry Fool of beauty none, yet therewithal a man to woo thee to my love--"

"Thy love? Ah, wilt so betray thy lord's trust?"

"Blithely, Yolande! For thee I would betray my very self."

"And thyself art Fool faithless to thy lord, a rhyming jester, a sorry thing for scorn or laughter--and yet--thy shameful habit shames thee not, and thy foolish songs hold naught of idle folly! And thou--thou art the same I saw 'mid gloom of dungeon sing brave song in thy chains! Thou art he that overthrew so many in the lists! O Joconde, my world is upside down by reason of thee."

"And thou, Yolande, didst stoop to me within my dungeon! And thou didst pray for me, Yolande, and now--now within this sweet night thou dost lean down to me through the glory of thy hair--to me in my very lowliness! And so it is I love thee, Yolande, love thee as none shall ever love thee, for man am I with heart to worship thee, tongue to woo thee, eyes to behold thy beauties, and arms to clasp thee. So am I richer than yon painted duke that needs must woo thee with my lips. And could I but win thee to love--ah, Yolande, could I, despite these foolish trappings, this blemished face, see Love look on me from thine eyes, O--then--"

"How--then--Joconde?"

"Then should Fool, by love exalted, change to man indeed and I--mount up to heaven--thus!" So saying, Jocelyn began to climb by gnarled ivy and carven b.u.t.tress. And ever as he mounted she watched him through the silken curtain of her hair, wide of eye and with hands tight-clasped.

"Ah, Joconde!" she whispered, "'t is madness--madness! Ah, Joconde!" But swift he came and swung himself upon the balcony beside her and reached out his arms in mute supplication, viewing her wistfully but with scarred face transfigured by smile ineffably tender, and when he spoke his voice was hushed and reverent.

"I am here, Yolande, because methought to read within thy look the wonder of all wonders. But, O my lady, because I am but what I am, fain would I hear thee speak it also."

"Joconde," said she in breathless voice, "wouldst shame me--?"

"Shame?" he cried. "Shame? Can there be aught of shame in true love? Or is it that my a.s.s's ears do shame thee, my c.o.c.k's-comb and garments pied shame the worship of this foolish heart, and I, a Fool, worshipping thee, shame thee by such worship? Then--on, c.o.c.k's-comb! Ring out, silly bells! Fool's love doth end in folly! Off love--on folly--a Fool can but love and die."

"Stay, Joconde; ah, how may I tell thee--? Why dost thou start and fumble with thy dagger?"

"Heard you aught, lady?"

"I heard an owl hoot in the shadows yonder, no more."

"True, lady, but now shall this owl croak like a frog--hearken! Aha--and now shall frog bark like dog--"

"And what meaneth this?"

"That thou, proud lady, must this night choose betwixt knightly rogue and motley Fool--here be two evils with yet a difference--"

"Here is strange, wild talk, Fool!"

"Here shall be wild doings anon, lady, methinks. Hush thee and listen!"

A jangle of bridle-chains, a sound of voices loud and rough, and a tread of heavy feet that, breaking rudely upon the gentle-brooding night, drove the colour from Yolande's soft cheek and hushed her voice to broken whisper:

"Heaven shield us, what now, Joconde?"

"Wolves, lady, wolves that come to raven--see yonder!" Even as he spake they espied armed men who, bold and a.s.sured by reason of the solitude, moved in the garden below; and on back and breast of each was the sign of the b.l.o.o.d.y Hand.

"My Lord Gui's followers! Alas, Joconde, these mean thee ill--here is death for thee!" Now as she spake, Jocelyn thrilled to the touch of her hand upon his arm, a hand that trembled and stole to clasp his. "Alas, Joconde, they have tracked thee hither to slay thee--"

"And were this so, wouldst fly with me, Yolande? Wouldst trust thy beauties to a Fool's keeping?"

"Nay, nay, this were madness, Joconde; rather will I hide thee--aye, where none shall dare seek thee--come!"

"Yolande," he questioned, "Yolande, wilt trust thyself to Love and me?"

But seeing how she shrank away, his eager arms fell and he bowed his head.

"Nay, I am answered," quoth he, "even while thine eyes look love, thy body abhorreth Fool's embrace--I am answered. Nay, 't is enough, trouble not for words--ha, methinks it is too late, the wolves be hard upon us--hark ye to their baying!"

And now was sudden uproar, a raving clamour of fierce shouts, and a thundering of blows upon the great door below.

"Yolande--ha, Yolande, yield thee! Open! Open!"

"Ah--mercy of G.o.d! Is it me they seek?" she whispered.

"Thee, Yolande! To bear thee to their lord's embraces--"

"Rather will I die!" she cried, and s.n.a.t.c.hed the dagger from his girdle.

"Not so!" quoth he, wresting the weapon from her grasp. "Rather shalt thou live a while--for thou art mine--mine to-night, Yolande--come!" And he clasped her in fierce arms. "Nay, strive not lest I kiss thee to submission, for thou art mine, though it be for one brief hour and death the next!" So, as she struggled for the dagger, he kissed her on mouth and eyes and hair until she lay all unresisting in his embrace; while ever and anon above the thunder of blows the night clamoured with the fierce shout:

"Open--open! Yolande, ha, Yolande!"

"There is death--and worse!" she panted. "Loose me!"

"Stay," he laughed, "here thou 'rt in thy rightful place at last--upon my heart, Yolande. Now whither shall I bear thee? Where lieth safety?"

"Loose me!" she commanded.

"Never! Hark, there yields the good door at last!"

"Then here will we die!"