Page:Harper's New Monthly Magazine - v108.djvu/750



HEN Adhelmar had ended the tale of Dame Venus and the love which she bore the knight Tannhäuser, he put away the book and sighed. The Demoiselle Mélite laughed a little and demanded the reason of this sudden grief.

"I sigh," said he, "for sorrow that this Dame Venus is dead."

"Surely," said she, wondering at his glum face, "that is no great matter."

"By St. Vulfran, yes!" Adhelmar protested; "for the same Lady Venus was the fairest of women, as all learned clerks avow; and she is dead these many years, and now there is no woman left alive so beautiful as she—saving one alone, and she will have none of me. And therefore," he added, very slowly, "I sigh for desire of Dame Venus and for envy of the knight Tannhäuser."

Again Mélite laughed, but she forbore to question him concerning the lady who was of equal beauty with Dame Venus.

It was an April morning, and they sat in the hedged garden of Puysange. Adhelmar read to her of divers ancient queens—the histories of Lady Helen that was the leman of Sir Paris, the Trojan knight, and of the Lady Melior that loved Parthenopex of Blois, and of the Lady Aude, for love of whom Sieur Roland slew the pagan Angoulaffre, and of the Lady Cresseide that betrayed love, and of the Lady Morgaine la Fée, whose Danish lover should yet come from Avalon to save France in her black hour of need. All these he read aloud, suavely, with bland modulations, for he was a learned man.

For the rest, Sir Adhelmar de Nointel was known as a valiant knight, who had won glory in the wars with the English. He had rested for a fortnight at Puysange, of which castle the master, Reinault, the Vicomte de Puysange, was his cousin; and on the next day he proposed to set forth for Paris, where the French King—Jean the Luckless—was gathering his lieges about him to withstand his kinsman, Edward of England.

Now, as I have said, Adhelmar was cousin to Reinault, and, in consequence, to Reinault's sister, the Demoiselle Mélite; and the latter he loved—at least, as much as a cousin should. That was well known; and Reinault de Puysange had sworn very heartily that it was a great pity when he had affianced her to Hugues d'Arques. They had both loved her since boyhood—so far their claims ran equally. But while Adhelmar had busied himself in getting some scant fame and a vast number of scars, Hugues had sensibly inherited the fief of Arques, a snug property with fertile lands and a stout fortress. How, then, should Reinault hesitate between them?

He did not. For the Chateau d'Arques, you must understand, was builded in Lower Normandy, on the fringe of the hill-country, just where the peninsula of Cotentin juts out into the sea; Puysange stood not far north, among the level lands of Upper Normandy; and these two being the strongest castles in those parts, what more natural and desirable than that the families should be united by marriage? Reinault informed his sister bluntly of his decision; she wept a little, but did not refuse to comply.

So Adhelmar, come again to Puysange after five years' absence, found Mélite troth-plighted, fast and safe, to Hugues. Reinault told him. Adhelmar grumbled and bit his nails in a corner for a time; then laughed shortly.

"I have loved Mélite," he said. "It may be that I love her still. Eh, St. Vulfran, why should I not? Why should a man not love his cousin?"

Adhelmar grinned, while the Vicomte twitched his beard and desired him at the devil.

But he stuck fast at Puysange, for all