The
Queen did not start, but for an instant her eyes gathered light into
themselves and her mouth hardened. She glanced at the weak girl, broken
and suffering, and looking so small beside her, and she was angry that
Gilbert should have chosen anything so pitiful against her own lofty
beauty. But presently her anger ceased, not because it was unopposed,
but because she was too large-hearted for any meanness.
"Forget that I am the Queen," she said at last. "Only remember that I
am a woman and that we two love one man."
Beatrix shivered and moved uneasily on her pillow, pressing her hand to
her throat as if something choked her.
"You are cruel!" Her voice would not serve her for more just then, and
she stared at the roof of the tent.
"Love is cruel," answered Eleanor, in a low voice, and suddenly the
hand that held the fan dropped upon her knee, and her eyes looked at it
thoughtfully.
But Beatrix roused herself. There was more courage and latent energy in
the slight girl than any one dreamed. Her words came clearly.
"Yours is--not mine! For his sake you call yourself a woman like me,
but for his sake only. Is your face nothing, is your power nothing, is
it nothing that you can hide me from him at your pleasure, or let me
see him as you will? What is any one to you, who can toss a king aside
like a broken toy when he thwarts you, who can make war upon empires
with no man's help, if you choose? Is Gilbert a god that he should not
yield to you? Is he above men that he should not forget me, and go to
you, the most beautiful woman in the world, and the most daring, and
the most powerful--to you, Eleanor of Guienne, Queen of France? You
have all; you want that one thing more which is all I have! You are
right--love is cruel!"
The Queen listened in silence, too generous still to smile at the girl,
too much in earnest to be hurt.
Pages:
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249