Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1895-06-01
HUMBLED.

Three centuries ago an old Latin city
slept on the border Of a great blue gulf
over which the scattering sails floated
like lazy birds, and in whose clear depths
were mirrored the green mills crowned
with half ruined temples of cleaning
marble. The inscriptions of the con-
quering Caesars were yet clear upon its
massive walls, along which paced watch
men whose chanting cries mingling
with the tolling of the monastery bells
marked the flight of the hours between
the darkness and the dawn. There were
great aqueducts traversing the landscape
and broken columns shining white
through the foliage of venerable trees,
telling of the faroff time when the gods
reigned yet on Olympus and the city
was in Aphrodite's keeping. Surround
ed by olives and somber pines, clinging
to the summit of granite cliff high up
where the eagles spread their mighty
wings, the nine proud towers of the
chateau of Pierreluce pierced the sky.
But the place was sad since the day
when its lord had departed to wage
war upon his enemies and had given up
his soul i'll valiant but losing fight
He left to mourn him maiden who
was his widow without having been his
wife, who had known no other ca1ess
than the kiss of adieu which he had
pressed upon her forehead as he rode
away.
This maiden was called Bathilde, and
she was very beautiful. Her skin was
white as the petals of lily. Her eyes
were blue, and the light in their pro-
found depths was as changeful as the
tints of clear evening skies in autumn.
Sometimes they shone hard and cold,
chilling the heart; then they would
tie influences over those on whom they
rested that the rustiest hearts would be
drawn to her. Her neck was like slen-
der ivory column, and around it she
wore thread of gold whose ends were
joined by great amethyst. Her hair
was dark and soft as silken mesh, and
there were coppery CLEANS in it where
the sunlight fell. When uncoiled it
hung almost to her slender feet, cover
iuB HoI llhe spleuulu IHautle
She loved no one.
She seemed as cold and passionless as
a statue with folded hands carved upon
a tomb. The poor people, the vassals
who titled the soil, the merchants of the
city, the clerks and soldiers, all feared
and hated her because she was inexora-
BILE in her unjust and wicked DEGREES,
which made their lives burden. She
was proud as any pagan empress in her
radiant, splendid beauty, so much so
that she scarcely bowed her head during
the elevation Of the host, and not once
had she accused herself of fault or
knelt as others did before the white
robed monks who officiated in the
chapel by the donjon.
And the angels who watch over the
souls of mortals, and who traverse the
trackless fields of air as lightly as some
wandering strain of music mounts up
ward from the earth despaired, seeing
her SO deeply sunk in her sinful pride,
blossoming like a pale rose in a gloomy
desert place, and they resolved to chas-
ten her
Late one afternoon in the time of har-
vest, when the air was full of the
drowsy hum of insects, and the wind
was stilled, as the distant sea reflected
the sunset glory of the sky before the
postern of the chateau appeared band
of cavaliers with dusty armor and
cleaning lances. At their head upon
charger which paved the ground and
neighed was he whom the courts of love
had named Foulques the Fair.
Indeed, with his broad, powerful
shoulders, his tall figure and godlike
face and clustering golden curls franz
ing his low forehead, the lord Of the
isles and of Theoule shone in the twi-
light beautiful as rising star.
From window, drawing aside cor
ner of one of the panes of colored vel
lum, Bathilde, trembling, fascinated,
her hands pressed upon her loudly beat
ing heart, regarded the unknown guest
that the fates had sent her. What was
this madness which pervaded all her be-
ing, which gave her an almost irresisti-
BILE impulse to throw herself upon the
broad bosom of this man, whom she had
never seen before that sweet, resplen-
dent summer evening, which made hun
cry for love her maiden heart? She
blushed. For the first time she feared
she was not beautiful enough in her
somber robes of widowhood.
During his stay in the chateau she
entertained him with as much magnifi-
cence and formal preparation as if he
were king or pope. She regaled him
Il
herself humble before him. For his
amusement she would have burned the
city and the ships straining at their
mooring rings, and she used every art
she knew to keep him with her and
turn his thoughts from war and fill his
heart with her increasing love.