from The Bijou Literary Annual, 1828
author: By Miss Emma Roberts, Author of "The History of the Red and White Roses."
source date: 1828
edition published: 20170606
availability: Freely available via a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License

The Bijou;
or Annual of Literature and the Arts

compiled by William Fraser
William Pickering London
1828
pp. 99-107

The Suitors Rejected

By Miss Emma Roberts, Author of "The History of the Red and White Roses."

"UPON what knave's errand art thou sent, my dainty page thus early?" exclaimed Leonora, "had I not been afoot with the lark to gather May- dew before the sun had drank the moisture from these flowers, thou mightest have gone bootless home again, for my lady the countess, and Victorine and Eugenie still press their pillows: dreaming perchance of thy master and his gallant esquire; dost think boy, that sallow-visaged melancholy baron, sighing after the wreck of the fortune which he lacks the wit to mend, or the doughty hero, Roland, who would fain prompt him, if his dull brain could compass the matter, to some dexterous shift or stirring enterprise; or those goodly trencher men, Dugarde and Montresor, are like to haunt a lady's slumbers?"

"Faith, Leonora," replied the page, "it passes my poor judgment to decide what it may please the fancy of thy lady and her maids to dream about; the place is solitary thou knowest — there are no other cavaliers of any mark or likelihood within a dozen miles, they wear feathers in their caps and deck their legs in silken hose, things which women wondrously affect to look upon, and perchance in default of more ruffling gallants, they may be endured."

"Now out upon thee, for a saucy varlet," cried Leonora, "hie thee hence, sire page, or thou shalt taste the discipline of the scullion's broom, and be sent roaring home again."

"An' thou dost not bid me stay, fair mistress, I'll get me gone, and speedily, but I'll carry that away which to possess thou wouldst give — aye, the lovelock Roland begged so earnestly last night, which thou sworest should go with thee to thy grave — a secret, Leonora."

"A secret — nay, purse not up thy pretty mouth, thou paragon of pages, but tell it quickly; come, thou art a sprightly lad, and wilt make a better knight than thy master."

"And dost thou think to beguile me with sugared words; no, no, something better, lady, or I'm gone."

"Thou shalt have an eyas, one that the master falconer engages shall prove a tarsel gentle; I'll broider thee thy glove myself, and its jesses shall be of silver: methinks thou only wantest a bird upon thy fist to brave it with the best."

"Wilt thou give me a kiss, Madonna?"

"Aye, manikin, twenty; dost think that I should blush to press the smooth lip of such a beard- less urchin? go to, I'll give thee something better than a kiss, take this fair chain of gold, a metal wondrous scant at yonder castle, if report speak true; every link will buy thee some rich gawd; thou shalt have horse to ride, a good sword girded at thy side, and still wear half its length about thy neck."

"Methinks I could carry a hawk as fair, and manage a steed, and wield a rapier as well as the favourite page of King Charles himself, but though I prize a horse and a falcon, and thy massy chain, and thy sweet kisses, pretty Leonora, I'll not sell my secret for aught a-kin to lucre; thou shalt have it without fee or guerdon, because I desire to merit the gilded spurs I mean to win, and I deem it to be rank cowardice for men to set their wit against the weaker sex."

"Aye, marry, these are dainty scruples, malapert conceited minion, keep thy council to aid thy master and his sapient friends, and leave us to countervail their plots. This must needs be some device of Roland's, for the baron has thought of nothing better than to sigh under the garden wall, while his trusty squire clears his hoarse throat and trolls some dismal ditty; and Dugarde and Montresor being kept fasting, groan in concert, and cast tender glances at Victorine and Eugenie, or at the shields of brawn which the servitors carry into the buttery, it were hard to say which."

"Farewell, mistress Leonora, I meant to do thy lady a service; for not to speak it disparagingly, her broad lands rather than her beauty have tempted my master, whose revenues are, as thou sayest, somewhat slack, to play false to his plighted bride; and thy glittering carkanets, Leonora, and the pearl studs, and the diamond bodkins in which the silly hearts of thy fair companions so much delight, are the grand attraction with his needy followers. I dare not hint that Roland is drawn hither by any brighter object than thine eyes, but Montresor and Dugarde see butts of malvoisin, haunches of the red deer, hawks, Damascus blades, and Barbary coursers in every gem."

"I guessed as much," exclaimed Leonora, "an' thy secret be upon a par with thy news, 'twere scarcely worth while to rise so early with it, but for once, though thou deserv'st it not, I'll humour thee; I see thou art burning to tell this marvellous tale, so out with it — from sheer compassion I'll lend thee mine ear."

"Take me then to thy bower, Leonora," replied the page, "for we have idled the time until the morning solitude is broken, and stragglers haunt the glade."

"Willingly, my fair boy, and I'll break thy fast with a manchet of wheaten bread, and a platter of potted lampreys, cates I trow not common in the baron's hall, and thou shalt wash down both with a cup of sack."

The page and the lady passed into the fair chateau of the young Countess de Normanville, laughing as they threw the dew-besprinkled flowers in sport at each other, but the frolic mood of the maiden was changed, as after the lapse of an hour she shewed the boy out of a little postern gate, and charged him to be faithful. Flying round to the mew, where, as he was wont, Bertram de Lille was stationed overlooking the falconers and whistling to the hawks, Leonora seized the youth by the arm, exclaiming, "To horse! to horse! sweet servant, away to the lady of Beaujeu, there is mischief brewing, the thick skulls of the baron's followers have hatched a plot which will cost thee some hard riding, and me all the jewels in my casket to defeat. Here are twenty broad pieces for the lacquey who keeps the door, and this rich chain for the seneschal that you may have speech of the lady; and stay, here is a ruby ring as some small token of our mistress's affection for her royal kinswoman, and these clasps and brooches are for her waiting gentlewomen, that they may speed thy errand; and as I learn that money is not over plenty in the king's camp, for the jewels of the Duchess of Savoy and the Marchioness of Montserrat, which he has borrowed, lie in pawn for his necessities, stint not to say that so there be a fa- vourable answer to this missive, plate to the value of a thousand marks shall be dispatched to Lombardy. Now it is well, thou art mounted, fly with the speed of the wind, and linger not in making those gambados — thy skill in horsemanship has not been cast away on careless eyes."

De Lille obeyed the commands of the sprightly Leonora with so much zeal and diligence that his foaming steed clattered into the court-yard an hour before even her impatient spirit expected to see the dust which the charger's hoofs would raise upon the adjacent hill; and exchanging his travel-soiled garments for the silken vest which displayed his figure to the best advantage, he was ready to join the seneschal in his attendance on the ladies in their evening walk through the parks and pleasure ground. Passing down a broad flower-bespangled glade they encountered the baron, who attired in black garments, and accompanied by his page, and his three trusty esquires, advanced to pay his respects to the countess.

"Fair lady," he exclaimed, "attribute to this ardour of my passion my apparent disrespect in approaching you clad in this dolorous habit."

"What is't, a penance?" interrupted Leonora; "and by the wing of Cupid for some heavy offence, for it suits your complexion marvellously ill, and of that the malicious priest was aware. A penance it must be; the jovial countenances of your merry men declare that no evil hap can betided in your household."

"Alas, madam," replied the baron, "I wear this raven-tinted garb as a tribute of respect to the memory of one whose death, in sooth, I lament not, since it promises to remove one barrier to the suit I have so long and so hopelessly pressed, with the lovely but too disdainful mistress of my soul. I am released from my betrothment with the Lady Adela, by her decease."

"What, ho! Master Bertram," exclaimed Leonora, "thou mayest restore the baron to the hues of the popinjay, in which he does so much execution in the hearts of simple damsels. This gentleman, my lord, is fresh from the court of the lady of Beaujeu, where he has seen and conversed with the Lady Adela, who morever has sent thee a token that she liveth still to demand the fulfillment of an engagement made before her broken fortune caused her to be slighted."

"And," said the Countess de Normanville, "I marvel that a gentleman and a knight should shame his high lineage and chivalric oath by such a paltry device. Know, sir, I am also acquainted with the base means with which you have tampered with the avarice of my kinsman — an honorable bargain, forsooth — half the estate when you lost all hope of clutching the whole: but, beware sir, neither fraud or force can avail you now; the Lady of Beaujeu, in behalf of my sovereign King Charles, has taken my wardship into her own hand, and has alone the power to dispose of me in marriage."

"And my lord," cried Bertram, "there is news from the camp of Charles; he marches from triumph to triumph, and he has 'gaged the hands of his wards to the knights, who shall add the conquered states of Italy to the crown of France. What sayst thou? my poor sword is at the service of my king; I post to the army to-morrow. Wilt thou quit thy sylvan warfare in these woods to strive in martial exploits with the gallant Lusignan, who it is rumoured wears the Countess de Normanville's glove upon his basnet?"

"Peace, Bertram," cried the seneschal, "the baron loves to court far more dangerous perils than the Lombard wars present, to tilt with ladies' eyes instead of spears."

"Tarry for me, Master Bertram," exclaimed the page, "if it be but for the space of a single day, and thou shalt not ride alone an there be a broad sword and a steel jerkin left in the armoury."

"Farewell, friend Roland," said Leonora, "thou, too, hast to win thy spurs, and line thy purse with bezants; say, wilt thou take thy chance with an uncrested helm to gain the land which calls me heir in Bertram's absence? He leaves me, thou seest, to combat as best I may against thy wit and valour; or wilt thou, too, speed to these Lombard wars, and delegate to yon sad browed knight and Messieurs Degarde and Montresor, who look wondrous wise, though unhandsomely chary of their words, the task of consoling me and my fellow damsels, when these vales shall be deprived of the sunshine of thy presence."

"No, sweet mistress," returned Roland, "though thy sharp tongue and scornful eye drive Master Bertram to the tented field, though thy humour were ten times more petulant, and thy jests more keen, thou shalt not wear the willow branch for me, or hang or drown for lack of one poor servant to bear with thy impertinencies: 'twere pity to have them wasted on thy monkey or thy tire woman, send forth thy warrior youth to gather laurels, we will pluck them from their brows when they return,

And thou shalt call him brave who bears away At once, the trophies of each toilsome day."