Cold with an awful fear he got him to his feet and looked hither and yon, but nowhere found any sign of violence or struggle. But like one distraught he turned to seek her, her name upon his lips, then, checking voice and movement, stood rigid, smitten by hateful doubt. For now it seemed to him that her gentle looks and words had been but sweet deceits to blind him to her purpose and now, so soon as she had lulled him to sleep, she had stolen away, leaving him for the poor, piteous fool he was. And now his despair was "whelmed in sudden anger, and anger, little by little, changed to grief. She was fled away and he a sorry fool and very desolate.
Full of these bitter thoughts he cast himself upon his face and, lying as in a pit of gloom, knew a great bitterness.
Slowly, slowly, borne upon the gentle wind came a fragrance strange and unexpected, a savour delectable of cooking meat that made him know himself a man vastly hungry despite his grievous woe. But, lying within the black gulf of bitterness, he stirred not until, of a sudden, he heard a voice, rich and full and very sweet, upraised in joyous singing; and these the words:
"Rise, O laggard! See the sun, To climb in glory hath begun: The flowers have oped their pretty eyes, The happy lark doth songful rise, And merry birds in flowery brake, Full-throated, joyous clamours make; And I, indeed, that love it not, Do sit alone and keel the pot, Whiles thus I sing thee to entreat, O sleepy laggard--come and eat!"
"Forsooth and art sleeping yet, Joconde?" the voice questioned. Duke Jocelyn lifted woeful head and saw her standing tall and shapely amid the leaves, fresh and sweet as the morn itself, with laughter within her dream-soft eyes and laughter on her vivid lips and the sun bright in the braided tresses of her hair wherein she had set wild flowers like jewels.
"Yolande!" he murmured, coming to his knees "Yolande--how glorious thou art!"
"Nay," she laughed, yet flushing to the worship of his eyes, "and my habit woefully torn of wicked bramble-thorns, and my hair ill-braided and all uncombed and--"
"Ah, Yolande, I thought thee fled and I left to loneliness, and my pain was very sore."
"Then am I avenged thy mockery, Joconde, and thy song of "Derry down."
"Twas for this I stole away! But now, if thou "rt hungry man, come this ways." And she reached him her hand. So she brought him to a little dell where burned a fire of sticks beneath a pot whence stole right savoury odour.
"O most wonderful!" quoth he. "Whence came these goodly viands?"
"Where but from the wallet behind thy horse"s saddle, Joconde?" Then down sat they forthwith side by side and ate heartily and were very blithe together; and oft-times their looks would meet and they would fall silent awhile. At last, the meal ended, Jocelyn, turning from Yolande"s beauty to the beauty of the world around, spake soft-voiced:
"Yolande, were mine a selfish love, here, lost within these green solitudes, would I keep thee for mine own--to serve and worship thee unto my life"s end. But, since I count thy happiness above my dearest desires, now will I go saddle the horse and bear thee hence."
"Whither, Joconde, whither wilt thou bear me?"
"Back to the world," said he ruefully, "thy world of prideful luxury, to thy kindred."
"But I have no kindred, alas!" sighed she, stooping to caress a daisy-flower that grew adjacent.
"Why, then, thy friends--"
"My friends be very few, Joconde, and Benedicta hath her husband."
"Yolande," said he, leaning nearer, "whither should I bear thee?"
"Nay," saith she, patting the daisy with gentle finger-tip, "go thou and saddle thy horse, mayhap I shall know this anon. Go thou and saddle the horse." So Jocelyn arose and having saddled and bridled the horse, back he cometh to find Yolande on her knees beside the stream, and she, hearing his step, bowed her head, hiding her face from him; now on the sward beside her lay the picture shattered beyond repair.
"How," said Jocelyn, "hast broken the Duke"s picture, lady!"
"Thou seest!" she answered.
"And must thou weep therefore?" said he a little bitterly. "Oh, be comforted; "t was but a toy--soon will I get thee another."
"An thou bring me another, Joconde, that will I break also."
"Ha--thou didst break it--wilfully, then?"
"With this stone, Joconde."
"Wherefore, O wherefore?" he questioned eagerly.
"For that it was but painted toy, even as thou sayest!" she answered.
"Moreover, I--love not Duke Jocelyn."
"And"t was for this thou didst break the picture?"
"Nay, "twas because these painted features may never compare with the face of him I love."
"And whom--whom dost thou love?" quoth he, in voice low and unsteady.
Speaking not, she pointed with slender finger down into the placid, stream.
Wondering, he bent to look and thus from the stilly water his mirrored image looked back at him; now as he stooped so stooped she, and in this watery mirror their glances met.
"Yolande?" he whispered. "O my lady, shall a Fool"s fond dream come true, or am I mad indeed? Thou in thy beauty and I--"
"Thou, Joconde," said she, fronting him with head proudly uplift, "to my thought thou art man greater, n.o.bler than any proud lord or mighty duke soever. And thou hast loved and wooed as never man wooed, methinks. And thou art so brave and strong and so very gentle and--thus it is--I do love thee."
"But my--my motley habit, my--"
"Thy cap of Folly, Joconde, these garments pied thou hast dignified by thy very manhood, so are they dearer to me than lordly tire or knightly armour.
And thy jingling bells--ah, Joconde, the jingle of thy bells hath waked within my heart that which shall never die--long time my heart hath cried for thee, and I, to my shame, heeded not the cry, wherefore here and now, thus upon my knees, I do most humbly confess my love."
"Thy love, Yolande--for me? Then dost truly love me? Oh, here is marvel beyond my understanding and belief."
"Why, Joconde, ah, why?"
"See!" he cried, flinging back his head. "Look now upon this blemished face--here where the cruel sun may shew thee all my ugliness, every scar--behold! How may one so beautiful as thou learn love for one so lowly and with face thus hatefully marred? I have watched thee shrink from me ere now! I mind how, beside the lily-pool within thy garden, thou didst view me with eyes of horror! I do mind thy very words--the first that e"er I heard thee utter:
"What thing art thou that "neath thy hood doth show A visage that might shame the gladsome day?"
Yolande, Yolande, this poor blemished face is nothing changed since then; such as I was, such I am!"
"Alas, Joconde!" she cried, reaching out her hands in pa.s.sionate appeal.
"My words were base, cruel--and hurt me now more, ah, much more, than e"er they wounded thee. For I do love thee with love as deep, as true as is thine own! Wilt not believe me?"
"Oh, that I might indeed!" he groaned. "But--thou"rt alone, far from thy home and friends, thy wonted pride and state forgotten all--mayhap thou dost pity me or mayhap "tis thy grat.i.tude in guise of love doth speak me thus? But as thou art still thine own lovely self, so am I that same poor, motley Fool whose hateful face--"
"Joconde," she cried, "hush thee--Oh, hush thee! Thy words are whips to lash me!" and catching his hand she kissed it and cherished it "gainst tear-wet cheek. "Ah, Joconde," she sighed, "so wise and yet so foolish, know"st thou not thy dear, scarred face is the face of him I love, for love hath touched my eyes and I do see thee at last as thou truly art, a man great of soul, tender and strong-hearted. So art thou a man, the only man, my man. Oh, that I might but prove my love for thee, prove it to thee and before all men, no matter how, so I might but banish thy cruel doubts for ever. But now, for thy dear, scarred face--"
Her soft, round arms were about his neck; and drawing him to her lips she kissed him, his scarred brow and cheek, his eyes, his lips grown dumb with wondering joy. Thus, lip to lip and with arms entwined, knelt they beside that slow-moving stream that whispered softly beneath the bank and gurgled roguish laughter in the shallows.
A dog barked faintly in the distance, a frog croaked hoa.r.s.ely from the neighbouring sedge, but lost in the wonder of their love, they heeded only the beating of their hearts.
"A-billing and a-cooing! A-cooing and a-billing, as I"m a tanner true!"
exclaimed a hoa.r.s.e voice. Up started Jocelyn, fierce-eyed and with hand on dagger-hilt, to behold a man with shock of red hair, a man squat and burly who, leaning on bow-stave, peered at them across the stream.
"And is it Will the Tanner?" quoth Jocelyn, loosing his dagger.