So she lured him on, saw the white flame of his adoration turn to red with the fuel of her giving. And softly day by day she threw closer meshes round his soul. Unsuspecting, it struggled not at all, made no attempt to escape.
Isabel smiled. The Devil, who had set the stage, I am very sure laughed. At Sangdieu Brigid prayed.
CHAPTER X
WITHERED ROSES
FOOL You cry in your heart, and perchance again, Fool! Yet for my part I find his folly in a manner to my liking. I had liefer see a man prodigal of his gifts, though he bestow them on an unworthy object, than see him a niggard, grudging in his giving.
But, an’ you would know him truly, he saw not himself as giving, believed not that he bestowed gifts, believed himself merely the recipient of them. Wherein the wrong lay verily was that he forgot the Creator in the created. This you will have doubtless guessed already; it needs not that I show it you.
An’ you call to mind the prophecy of the old sage, who read the message of the stars at his birth, you will remember his foretelling; see Peregrine here the recipient of favours from one of high birth, will look to their withering like June roses when picked. Now to the manner of their withering.
It will be found in the chronicles of the Lords of Belisle that in a certain year of Grace, on the Feast of St. Mary Magdalene, one Count Bonaventure de Novello came to the Castle, bearing letters from Lord Robert to his daughter Isabel. It is further shown that he was received with hospitality, and remained for a time as a favoured guest of the Castle. The manner of his departure is not so clearly given, but one may guess that he departed in somewhat lesser favour. Yet it is neither his departure nor the manner of it that concerns us chiefly, but rather his arrival and his sojourn.
A comely man this Bonaventure de Novello, so I have heard; of average height, olive-skinned, and bright-eyed. He could dance, he could sing; he had moreover a very pretty wit, and a tongue that knew well the handling of it. Up to a point it stood him in better stead than rapier, since the tongue may madden more readily than steel; the point passed the rapier was not lacking in its skill. In the matter of love he made it not at all, since he got plenty without his making, and scorned it accordingly. It was the same, I take it, with homage, liking, or any other favour. Therefore you will see Isabel looking queerly on him at the first, since it was ever her way to receive willingly rather than to give. Anon she began to exercise her customary wiles over him. Finding him none too easy to lure the task absorbed her. We may see Peregrine forgotten. Here it was that his roses began to wither.