# The Princess Pourquoi (collection)/The Seven Studious Sisters

The King groaned aloud, and the knights-at-arms and the ladies-in-waiting groaned with him. Was it not enough for him to have had a daughter whose useless thinking had embittered his reign? She, with her quick intellect and ready questions, had made his throne totter under him; and now, when she was safely married and away—ay, and had made as good a match as the dullest maid in Christendom, must the spirit of inquiry come back to him in seven shapes?...
THE SEVEN
STUDIOUS SISTERS
THE SEVEN
STUDIOUS SISTERS
His Majesty the King was in a terrible state of mind. Leaning back, speechless, upon his throne, with his crown over one ear, his fists clenched, he strove in vain to speak, but only an inarticulate gurgling made its way from the royal throat. Behind him stood his Jester, merry in cap and bells; on the right, the court philosophers, with puckered brows and sagely folded arms; and all about knights-at-arms and ladies-in-waiting silent and dismayed.
​Before the King, on the lowest step of the throne, almost under the gold-brocaded canopy, knelt, with clasped hands and beseeching eyes, Sylvie, Natalie, Amelie, Virginie, Sidonie, Dorothée, and Clementine, the seven beautiful daughters of old Count Benoît of Verdennes, all badly frightened, but intrepid.
"Speak!" thundered the King at last. "No, do not speak! Every word will be used against you!"
"Your Majesty," began Sylvie, who was the eldest and had black hair, "we came to beg,"—
"With great earnestness," continued Natalie, who had brown hair,—
"That you will give us the opportunity," said golden-haired Amelie, shivering,—
​"To study," said Virginie, who had brown eyes,—
"And grow wise," said Sidonie, whose eyes were blue,—
"And so we ask," said Dorothée, who had gray eyes,—
"That we may enter the university," said little Clementine, who had dimples.
It was sad for the youngest to say the hardest part of all, yet perhaps it was only fair, as it was the strong will of Clementine that had led them there, and the courage of Clementine that had kept them from faltering by the way.
They were simply repeating what they had just said; the parts had been arranged before coming, in hope that his Majesty could not resist. Never in their worst ​forebodings, when they had talked it over as they braided one another's hair in the tiring-room of the castle, had they dreamed of anything so terrible as this.
"Wh-what put this idea into your heads?" thundered his Majesty.
Then the seven answered as one maiden: "The Princess Pourquoi."
The King groaned aloud, and the knights-at-arms and the ladies-in-waiting groaned with him. Was it not enough for him to have had a daughter whose useless thinking had embittered his reign? She, with her quick intellect and ready questions, had made his throne totter under him; and now, when she was safely married and away—ay, and had made as good a match as the dullest maid in Christendom, must ​the spirit of inquiry come back to him in seven shapes? Since she was gone, all had been peace; he had been able to sleep most of the other half of the day also. His Majesty fidgeted under his purple robe. The Church had taught him that it was right for the sins of the fathers to be visited upon the children, but nothing about the sins of the children being visited upon the fathers, and he could not understand.
Sylvie, Natalie, Amalie, Virginie, Sidonie, Dorothée, and little Clementine looked at him with begging eyes. Now brown eyes and blue eyes and gray eyes and black hair and brown hair and golden hair and dimples all appealed strongly to the King, and he was surprised at himself for a ​moment for not being able to act as ugly as he thought he felt.
"What do you want to study for?" he demanded, his hands slowly unclenching.
"I don't know," faltered little Clementine, blushing into her dimples. Somewhere there was a faint ripple of laughter, and yet the Jester's face was perfectly sober when he lifted his head.
"To be wise and know things," said Sidonie. The King stamped.
"To be a power," said Natalie.
"Pshaw!" said the King.
"To understand all things," said Virginie. The King groaned.
"So that people will like us," said Amelie. Then came again that echo of mocking ​laughter, and the Jester muttered from behind the throne:—
"Now are there some here that are greater fools than I; for the whole world knows that a woman is better beloved for what she understands not than for what she understands."
The King looked desperately about him, for he was at his wits' end, but none came to his aid. The philosophers, with their eyes cast down, were stroking their beards; the ladies-in-waiting were looking away, as delicacy demanded, after so shocking a request; the knights-at-arms were frankly gazing at blue eyes or brown, as taste suggested. Then the King spoke hoarsely:—
"This is treason. The lowest dungeon in my castle is not too hard a punishment ​for such offense. At any cost this spirit must be quenched—at any cost."
Tears flowed softly down the cheeks of the seven maidens, and fell on their clasped hands, and the drops from Virginie's brown eyes sparkled like jewels on Amelie's golden hair. Then, in the sorrowful pause, the King's Jester stepped softly forward, and the little bells upon his patches rang as he came.
"Sire," said he, "I could tell a remedy more potent than this and less savage."
"Speak, Fool!" said the King.
"Not afore folks," answered the Jester, with a smile.
"They understand not your folly," said the King.
"Ay, but they might, for none can tell ​when words of wisdom may begin to penetrate dull brains. Clear me the room of these philosophers and the others, and let the maidens begone, for I cannot abide a woman's tears."
"Go!" said his Majesty.
Then the weeping maidens and the ladies-in-waiting passed out in a shimmer of gold color, and crimson, and blue, and rich green; and after them, like a shadow, crept the philosophers in garments of black; and then, with a clash of steel and flashing of wrought armor, went the knights-at-arms, and the presence chamber was empty, save for the King on the throne and the Jester, who stood before him in the posture of the philosophers, with folded arms and head bent low.
​"Sire," said the Fool, "when women grow wise"—
"The kingdom is lost," said his Majesty. "Little enough comfort is there now."
"They will outstrip their brothers," said the Jester.
"They will meddle with matters of state," said, the King.
"They will see through us all," continued the Fool. "For my part, I would keep them the sweet, blind creatures that they are. 'T is enough for me that I see through myself. Now there is one way, and one only, to check the growing intellect of women."
"And what may that be?" asked the King, the sadness lifting from his face.
"Forsooth, they must have a university of their own," answered the Jester.
"WHAT!" THUNDERED HIS MAJESTY
"Ay!" said the Fool, nodding; "there is no other way. The Princess Pourquoi has lighted in this land a fire that can be put out in only one fashion. Let a foundation be made; let walls arise; let lecturers come. Naught save a university curriculum will avail now to dull the wits and divert the minds and check the thought of women."
"In truth you have a pretty wit," said the King, and he smiled. "But who will take charge of this undertaking and plan me the work that it may avail?"
"I," said the Jester. "Who else? Cap and gown would become me well, and though the King may lose his fool, he will gain My Lord Rector, who will speak bravely in the Latin tongue."
​"And whom can we trust to aid in the work?" asked his Majesty.
"Lend me but the philosophers," said the Jester, with a wink, "and their natural parts shall prevail where intent might come badly off in this great task of dulling women's wits."
Then the two spoke long between themselves, and when they had finished, the Jester went and called the pages, and the great doors were thrown open, so that all entered as they had gone, and there was shimmer of silk and shining of jewels and gleaming of armor. The seven maidens came trembling in every limb, not knowing but their heads should fall, and they knelt as before at the foot of the throne, only now they had nothing to say. Then the King ​lifted up his voice and, smiling, said that it should be even as they had desired, and that learning and wisdom should be theirs. In one thing only should change be made: they should not mingle with the herd of men, but should have, sequestered and apart, a place of learning for womankind. When they heard this, Sylvie leaned her face upon the head of Natalie and wept for joy; and Natalie hers upon the head of Amelie, and Amelie upon Virginie, and Virginie upon Sidonie, and Sidonie upon Dorothée, and Dorothée upon little Clementine, and because Clementine had nowhere to lean her head, she wept into her own dimples.
Then the King's Fool went away and did not come again, and of this there was great ​talk for three days, and then all was forgotten, for another jester filled his place. One day appeared at court a grave gentleman clad all in flowing black, bearded, and with eyes cast down in a sort of inward look. All called him My Lord Rector, and none knew him for the King's Jester because he had changed his cap. He spoke but little, and that in Latin, as "Verbum sat sapienti; depressus extollor; veni, vidi, vici;" and if he made gibe or jest, there were none who could understand.
CAME RIDING FROM ALL PARTS OF THE KINGDOM
It was noised abroad that the Lord Rector would deliver the first lecture when the new work began, and all were eager to hear; so it came to pass one day that a huge company passed in procession under the carven Gothic gate and into the great hall whose stained windows looked one way on the river and the other way on the court. First, in gown of velvet and of silk, came My Lord Rector, muttering in his beard; after him followed the philosophers, with stately step and slow; and then young squires a-many, who were eager to see what would befall; and lords and ladies in gay clothing, rarely embroidered in choice colors. There were maiden students also, many score, and ​at their head Sylvie, in scarlet silken gown, and Natalie in green; Amelie in brown velvet, curiously slashed, and Virginie in yellow; Sidonie in blue samite, and Dorothée in silver, and little Clementine in white, as befitted her tender years. Now behold! within the great hall the King was already waiting in a chair of state under a velvet canopy, and My Lord Rector and the philosophers of the new faculty bowed low to him as they entered. Then the Rector mounted upon a platform, and bowing to the King with "Rex augustissimus," he winked in his old fashion and fell a-coughing, and the King winked back and then fell a-sneezing, to hide the smile that his beard only half concealed.
"Viri illustrissimi," continued the ​Rector, bowing again before his audience and speaking in a solemn voice: "mutatis mutandis, horresco referens, da locum melioribus, dux femina facti, humanum est errare, nil nisi cruce, graviora manent, post nubila Phoebus, sunt lachrimae rerum, vae victis."
The last words came with a quiver of the voice, and many wept, for they did not understand his folly. Then My Lord Rector turned to the fair body of women students and spoke, seeing only the face of little Clementine:—
"Feminae praeclarissimae, credo quia impossibile est, inest Clementia forti, crede quod habes et habeo, sic itur ad astra, toga virilis, vita sine literis mors est, varium et mutabile semper femina, vade ​in pace," and with this there was hardly a dry eye in the house. So the new university was opened.
Needless to say, the success of the undertaking was great. Throughout the land, bower and hall and dell were left empty, for the maidens had all gone to the capital to get learning. They no longer wrought fair figures in the embroidery frames in the great halls of their ancestral castles, or polished the armor of father and brother, or brewed cordials for the sick over the glowing coals. They no longer wandered in gowns of green on their palfreys by hill or dale for the joy of going. By hundreds they bowed their fair heads before the philosophers as they lectured, taking notes upon the tablets of their minds, for they ​did not know how to write. My Lord Rector, when he spoke, could find no room large enough to contain his audiences, so he lectured only on sunshiny days, and stood on a platform in the centre of the great court; and words of grave nonsense fell from his lips as the light fell on golden hair or brown. So intently did the maidens listen that they did not smell the fragrance of the flowers crushed beneath their feet, wild rose and lily and violet, nor did they hear the beat of the wings of startled birds, nor see red crest, or golden wing, or blue, flash across the sky.
Being a cunning man and keen, My Lord Rector had left to the flocking students the choice of the lectures that they should pursue.
​"Let them but manage it themselves," he said, smiling wickedly, at a private audience with the King, "and we shall see great things."
So the maidens met in assembly and consulted gravely together, and conferred with Rector and with faculty, and presently many branches of learning were established and all was going with great vigor. Each student chose for herself what course she should pursue, and it was pretty to see how maiden whims worked out into hard endeavor. Black-haired Sylvie specialized in dramatics, for she made, with her sweeping locks, an excellent tragedy queen; Natalie in athletics, and she took the standing high-jump better than any knight in Christendom; golden-haired Amelie devoted all her ​time to fiddling and giglology, and soon became proficient; Virginie, of the brown eyes, took ping-pong and fudge; blue-eyed Sidonie, acrostics and charades; Dorothée took chattering and cheering, and soon her sweet voice could be heard above the noise of building, or the roar of battle; while little Clementine worked at all branches of frivology, and became a great favorite, for in looks and in manner and in taste she represented that which is most pleasing in woman.
To tell of all they did and learned and thought would be too long a tale, and, moreover, the records of much of it have perished, but men say that their life was both strenuous and merry, and that womankind blossomed out into new beauty of face ​and form and mind. The infinite range of opportunity has been but faintly shadowed forth in the hints already given; and to those who philosophized and those who poetized, those who took societies and those who took cuts, life was one long burst of irrelevant, joyous activity. Most zealous of all the students was little Clementine. Ceaselessly alert, she listened with upturned face to lectures in the great flower-grown court; with infantile audacity she ventured out into vast unknown realms of thought, and puckered her white forehead in trying to work out the unutterable syllable. Now she walked the cloisters where the shadow of carven leaf and tendril fell on her hair, studying a parchment; and again, in moments of relaxation, she rode ​her dog-eared pony fast and furiously. To some this animal may seem strange, but there were many queer creatures in those days, as Sir John Maundeville tells.
It came to pass, no one knows how, that nothing done by little Clementine escaped the notice of My Lord Rector, for his eyes followed her always. When he lectured, he lectured to Clementine; whether he said words of Latin or of the vulgar tongue, he spoke them to her eyes; and he was ashamed of the learned nonsense he was speaking when he gazed on Clementine. Sleeping, he saw her walking so-and-so under the shadow of Gothic arch with leaf shadows on her face, and he dreamed of taking the parchment from her white fingers and— But here he always woke, though he tried ​to dream farther. Clearly, something had happened to him that neither his experience as Sir Fool nor as Lord Rector had prepared him to understand.
Save for this haunting thought, he was very gay behind a solemn face. Dearly he loved his task, and none but the King and himself heard the faint tinkle of bells from under his scholar's cap. Always they greeted each other with Latin words, and they had many conferences wherein they chuckled together over the success of their plan, for they knew that they had drawn all these women forth to follow after the very shadow of learning, and that the end would leave them more ignorant than before. Always, however, in these moments of mirth, like a stab at the heart came to ​the Lord Rector the thought of deception practiced upon Clementine. Her trusting eyes, lifted to him in uttermost faith, reproached him by night and by day. If, by force, he put his conscience from him, he was sure to see her face as she listened, hiding in the recesses of her heart the silly words he said. Once, as she went alone toward the lodgings, and he followed at a great distance, a foot-pad set upon her in a dark corner, where a stone stairway gave shelter to thieves, and My Lord Rector, rushing forward, struck lustily about him right and left and felled the knave, taking from him the lady's netted purse and giving it back to her. She said no word save one of thanks, but after, when her eyes were raised, he saw that a new ​light had been added to the old, and that little Clementine reverenced him not only as a learned man, but as a brave one, too.
So weeks drifted by, and months, and then came a great event, for the maidens had determined to carry out a custom that belonged to that olden time and formed the final test of the scholar. All agreed that Clementine, brave, childish, perverse little Clementine, should initiate the new audacity. Therefore, one early morning, when the first rays of the sun were just peeping over the high stone city wall, she might have been observed stealing in academic garb of black over her white dress to the great oak, iron-studded door of the old Palace of Justice. Here, with a stone, ​she hammered a long parchment, and she established herself hard by, so that all who saw her knew that she was there to defend against all comers the theses she had nailed up. Now there were eight, and they ran as follows:—
1. That the ineffable and the intangible are not the same.
2. That all that is not, is, and all that seems to be, is not.
3. That—but it would be foolish to transcribe all the theses that little Clementine defended, for no one would understand. Suffice it to say that they were subtle beyond the mind of man, and clothed in words drawn from the deep abyss of the inane, where unborn thought goes ever crying for birth. One by one her six sisters came ​against her and argued, but to no avail, for little Clementine, no less skillful than David of yore, gathered together verb and adjective and slung them so unerringly that antagonist after antagonist went down, and she, often snubbed as being but the youngest, stood forth in the eyes of the admiring crowd a victor.
The picture that she made, standing against that gray stone wall flecked with green moss, with a grinning gargoyle leaning down toward her, was very sweet. In little Clementine the brown hair and the golden hair, the brown eyes and the gray eyes, of the family met in a peculiarly bewitching combination that had a chameleon quality of color constantly changing. Moreover, as she argued in well-chosen ​words, she was unconsciously establishing the unspoken thesis:—
That four dimples may exist at the same time in a maiden's face without seeming too many.
This My Lord Rector saw, and something gave way within him. When the argument was over and the audience was departing, he called Clementine to him inside the gate as one who would ask something, and then stood speechless. The maiden, who was flushed and weary, lifted her scholar's cap, and he saw, in the locks of hair that were neither brown nor gold, pearls woven; and above the collar of the gown showed the embroidered white samite of her dress.
"Little Clementine," said My Lord ​Rector, "your student life is almost done. Does that fact cause rejoicing?"
"Nay," said Clementine, casting down her eyes.
"Shall you grieve for anything left behind?"
"Ay," said the maiden.
"And what?" asked My Lord Rector.
"The learned lectures, the dissertations, the wise words," said Clementine, looking up and dimpling.
"And any special ones?" asked he, wondering if she heard about him the jingle of bells.
"Ay," said Clementine, smoothing her gown with slim white fingers and setting her lips together. Not another word would she say, though the great man begged humbly.
​"Clementine," asked My Lord Rector, changing the subject, "shall you ever wed?"
"If the right man comes," said the maiden.
"And what must he be?"
"He must be very wise."
"Am I wise, little one?" asked the Rector.
"Wisest of all," answered the maiden, whispering.
Then he took her white hand in his and said softly, "Amo. Amas?" but Clementine did not understand a word of Latin. Looking up, however, she saw something she did understand, and then My Lord Rector bent and kissed her hand, wisely using the old, old way of wooing that was ​found before words, Latin or other, were invented.
Then Clementine drew back trembling and looked, and behold, he who had been but a wonderful voice was changed, and she saw that he was a man, and young, and comely, with merry eyes touched with sadness, and a mouth whose curves were both cynical and sweet.
"Why, why should you choose me?" asked the maiden, in a voice that shook for reverence.
"Because you are so adorably foolish!" cried the lover, forgetting, and that was a mistaken speech, which mere words could not explain away.
It was agreed between them that none should know what had befallen until the ​day when old Count Benoît and his Lady Myriel came up to the city to take home their seven daughters, for their work was counted done. So the two lived a glad life, though they spoke but seldom; often a glance of the eyes made food for both day and night. All the time My Lord Rector's conscience pricked him more and more, until he could no longer bear it, and one day, coming upon Clementine where she passed the path by the rippling river, near three willow trees that were freshly leaved out, for it was spring, he told her the tale of how he and the King had deceived womankind, and, with torture of spirit, confessed himself the King's Fool. Then Clementine looked up at him with eyes where the gray and the brown seemed flecked with green, ​perchance from the shadow of the willows, and said firmly:—
"I have always seen that they who call themselves fools are the least so," nor could he ever after by any words of confession shake her steadfast faith in his wisdom.
At last came the day when Count Benoît arrived, and with him cousins and other kin from far and near, for all would know something of the strange new ways in the city. At lecture hour all crowded together in the great hall, and again the King was there upon the dais, solemn of look, but merry of heart, for his eyes twinkled under his heavy eyebrows as he looked at the fair, fresh faces before him, innocent of thought as any other maidens' faces, and he chuckled to think how he and his dear Fool ​had outwitted them all. Then he looked with affection at his trusty philosophers who stood near in silk robes with slashes of velvet and hoods of rainbow colors, and he thanked heaven that had given him strong supporters in the crisis that had threatened his kingdom. Gazing upon the assembled audience of friends and kinsfolk, he rejoiced to think that for them, as for him, the country had been saved.
But My Lord Rector was speaking in the Latin tongue, "ad hoc gradum admitto …," and Sylvie, Natalie, Amelie, Virginie, Sidonie, Dorothée, and little Clementine, with all the other maidens who had frolicked with them merrily so long a time, arose, as pretty a sight to see as ever king in Christendom had before ​him, and their new honors fell upon untroubled white foreheads. Then there was sound of rejoicing, and light shone through the stained windows on the glad faces and gay garments of the people assembled there; and suddenly, lo! My Lord Rector stepped from his high place and went to take the hand of little Clementine. With eyes cast down she followed him, and now she was rosy and now pale, and so the two kneeled at the feet of the king under the canopy.
"We two do crave your Majesty's blessing," said My Lord Rector, "on our betrothal."
Then a ripple of wonder and of laughter ran through the great hall, and his Majesty, smiling, blessed them with extended hands, ​and as they rose, he bent forward with a twinkle, whispering:—
"You have done well, My Lord Rector, in carrying out your purpose. It is pity that you may not marry them all."
For the first time he found no answering jest in his favorite's eyes, and would have inquired why, but the philosopher who stood nearest, and had caught the whisper, smiled, and taking Sylvie's hand, led her to the foot of the throne, saying:—
"But I, your Majesty, may wed this lady with the King's consent, for she has given hers." Then a second philosopher led forth Natalie, and a third Amelie, and a fourth Virginie, and a fifth Sidonie, and a sixth Dorothée, and behold! the seven sisters were again kneeling before the ​throne awaiting the King's blessing, but with their lovers at their sides.
Then his Majesty leaned back his head and roared with laughter till the vaulted ceiling reechoed, and tears of mirth ran down his cheeks and shone upon his beard, and all laughed with him, though they knew not why, all save My Lord Rector, whose face wore the saddest look a man may wear.
"Now, was this planned among you?" asked his Majesty.
Then they shook their heads, and each philosopher said:—
"Forsooth, I thought I was the only one," and with that the King roared again.
In the bustle that followed, when old Count Benoît and his Lady Myriel hung ​upon the necks of their seven daughters in turn, the King tapped the Lord Rector upon the arm.
"You have builded even better than the promise said," whispered his Majesty. "From this blow shall the aggressive intellect of woman not arise."
But the Rector looked gloomily upon him and knelt again, and begged that his Majesty would release him from further service that he might go to the wars.
"Two parts of the Fool have I played for your Majesty," said the man bitterly, "and from both I would be released, for you and I have done a great wrong."
Little Clementine had drawn nearer, and many-colored light of purple and crimson and gold fell on her fair face and parted ​lips as she looked in wonder at her lover. Then the King saw and understood, and he was ashamed.
"Nay, My Lord Rector," he said, bending low, "what we have done of wrong we will right. You shall even go on with the task set before you, and that that you do lack of a wise man shall this woman's faith make good."