Part 17

“’Tis put!

“And now the blue and gold! Wait, brother ape! Hold, in the name of God! Straight! ’Tis tie! Can I but stand?

“I—ah, lady, he doth ride full well. May I but steady thee? My legs are wobbled but—my hand, dear lady, lest ye sink.

(”Beppo, ’tis true she seeth me!)

“Thy hand is cold. I wager you he wins. He puts a right too high. Thy thrush is singing; hear ye not his song? His wing doth flutter even now. Ah, he is fitting thee——

“I do but laugh to feel the tickle of a feathering jest. An age before he puts! A miss! A tie! Ah, lady, should’st thee win I’ll laugh anew and even then will laugh at what thee knowest not.

“The red knight! God weight his charger’s hoof! (My God, Beppo, she did kiss my hand!)

“He’s off! Beppo, cling!”

(Lisa) “The fool! Look ye, the fool and ape! Oh heaven stop their flight! He’s well upon them! Blind me, lest I die! He’s charged anew, but missed! What, did his mantle fall? That shape that lieth! Come!”

(Lisa, to her knight) “So, thou, beloved, didst win me right! Where go they with the litter?”

(Knight) “The fool, my lady, and a chattering ape, did tempt to jest a charger in the field. We found them so. He lives but barely.”

(Enter Fool upon litter.)

(Fool) “Aday, my lady fair! And hast thee lost the silver of thy laugh and bid me fetch it thee? The world doth hold but fools and lovers, folly sick.”

(Lisa) “His eye grows misty. Fool, I know thee as a knave and love thee as a man.”

(Fool) “’Tis but a patch, Beppo, a patch and tassel from a lance ... but we did ride, eh? Laugh, Beppo, and prove thou art the fool’s! I laugh anew, lest my friends should know me not. Beppo, I dream of new roads, but thou art there! And I do faint, but she ... did kiss my hand.... Aday ... L—a—d—y.”

* * * * *

Very soon after the completion of this story Patience began another one, a Christmas story, a weird, mystical tale of medieval England, having for its central theme a “Stranger” who is visible only to Lady Marye of the Castle. The stranger is not described, nor does he speak a word, but he is presumedly the Christ. There are descriptions of the preparations for the Christmas feast at this lordly stronghold of baronial days, and the coarse wit of the castle servants and the drunken profanity of their master, “John the Peaceful,” form a vivid contrast to the ethereal Lady Marye and the simple love of the herder’s family at the foot of the hill. There are striking characters and many beautiful lines in this story, but it is not as closely woven nor as coherent in plot as the story of the fool and the lady.

THE STRANGER

’Twas at white season o’ the year, the shrouding o’ spring and summerstide.

Steep, rugged, was the path, and running higher on ahead to turret-topped and gated castle o’ the lordly state o’ John the Peaceful, where Lady Marye whiled away the dragging day at fingering the regal.

Footnote 2:

Regal. A small portable pipe organ used in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. It was played with one hand while the bellows was worked with the other.

From sheltered niche she looked adown the hillside stretching ’neath. The valley was bestir. A shepherd chided with gentle word his flock, and gentle folk did speak o’ coming Christ-time. Timon, the herder’s hut, already hung with bitter sweets, and holly and fir boughs set to spice the air.

* * * * *

“Timon, man, look ye to the wee lambs well, for winter promiseth a searching night.”

Thus spake Leta, who stands, her babe astride her hip.

“And come ye then within. I have a brew that of a truth shall tickle at thy funny bone. Bring then a bundle o’ brush weed that we may ply the fire. I vow me thy boots are snow carts, verily!

“Hast seen the castle folk? And fetched ye them the kids? They breathe it here that the boar they roast would shame a heiffer. All of the sparing hours today our Leta did sniff her up the hill; nay, since the dawning she hath spread her smock and smirked.