The Heart of Denise, and Other TalesLevett Yeats, S. (Sidney)
General
The Heart of Denise, and Other Tales
Levett Yeats, S. (Sidney)
Fiction; Short stories
At any other time I would have spared no pains to get him punished for
his insolence; but now, so taken aback was I at what I had heard, that
I scarcely noticed him, and entered the room as if in a dream. Indeed,
it was only with an effort that I recollected myself sufficiently to
make my reverence to the King. He called out as I did so, "_Mordieu!_
I retract, Tavannes! I retract! Faith! I almost feel as if I could
take the adventure on myself!"
A slight exclamation of annoyance escaped the Queen, and Tavannes said
coldly:
"Perhaps your Majesty had better inform my niece of your good
pleasure," adding grimly, "and I guarantee mademoiselle's obedience."
There was a minute or so of silence, during which the King was, as it
were, picking his words, whilst I stood before him. Majosky shuffled
down at Catherine's feet, and watched me with his wicked, blinking
eyes. I do not remember to have looked around me, and yet every little
detail of that scene will remain stamped on my memory until the day I
die.
Madame, the Queen Mother, was at her secretary, her fingers toying
with a jewelled paper-knife, and her white face and glittering eyes
fixed steadily on me, eyes with that pitiless look in them which we
all knew so well, and which made the most daring of us tremble. A
little to my right stood de Tavannes, one hand on the back of a chair,
and stroking his grizzled beard with the other. Before me, on a
coffer, whereon he had negligently thrown himself, was the King, and
he surveyed me without speaking, with a half-approving, half-sarcastic
look that made my blood tingle, and almost gave me back my courage.
In sharp contrast to the solemn black of Catherine's robes and the
stern soldierly marshal was the figure of the King. Henri was dressed
in his favourite colours, orange, green, and tan, with a short cloak
of the same three hues hanging from his left shoulder. His pourpoint
was open at the throat, around which was clasped a necklet of pearls,
and he wore three ruffs, one such as we women wear, of lace that fell
over the shoulders, and two smaller ones as stiff as starch could make
them. He wore earrings, there were rings on his embroidered gloves,
and all over his person, from his sleeves to the aigrette he wore on
the little turban over his peruke, a multitude of gems glittered. On
his left side, near his sword hilt, was a bunch of medallions of
ladies who had smiled on him, and this was balanced on the other hand
by an equally large cluster of charms and relics. As he sat there he
kept tapping the end of one of his shoes with a little cane, whilst he
surveyed me with an almost insulting glance in the mocking eyes that
looked out from his painted cheeks.
The silence was like to have become embarrassing had not Catherine,
impatient of delay, put in with that even voice of hers:
"Perhaps I had better explain your Majesty's commands;" and then
without waiting for an answer she went on, looking me straight in the
face--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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