The Charwoman’s Shadow

quiet now glared with a harsh light with all their old cobwebs gone, and stared with a strange emptiness because their chairs had been taken away to the banquet-hall. The quiet old boar-spears, that had seemed a very part of lost years, no longer rested soberly on the wall, but flashed and sparkled uneasily, for they had been newly polished and seemed to have become all at once a part of the work-a-day present, and to have lost with their rust all manner of moods and memories that they used to whisper faintly to Father Joseph whenever he saw them there. And, though the moods that the dimness and rust of the old things brought him were always edged with sadness, yet he gently lamented them now. But news had just come that the morrow was the day when Gulvarez would bring the Duke of Shadow Valley, with four chiefs of the Duke’s bowmen and his own two men-at-arms. So Father Joseph was soon moving chairs with the rest; and, though somewhat lethargic of body, yet his great weight moved the chairs as the torrents swollen with snow move the small boulders. And by the middle of the afternoon nothing seemed left of that mysterious harmony that is the essence of any home: had Penates been set up there as in Roman days they would not have recognized the rooms that they guarded. But before the sun had set a sudden change came over the confusion, and there was a new orderliness; and a tidiness that the Lord of the Tower had quite despaired to see was all at once around him. And Peter, who had come in from the garden to help, attributed this to the aid of all the Saints, and in particular to the aid of that fisherman from whom he had his name; but, likely as not, it was but the result of mere steady work. Then Father Joseph sank into one of the chairs and rested.

And then the Lord of the Tower and his lady began to discuss the reception of the Duke; where they should meet him, who should go with them, and the hundred little points that make an occasion. And here a nimble power came to their aid from where the large man in his chair rested heavily, for the mind of Father Joseph was bright and agile, and the making of plans never tired it as pushing chairs tired his body. He it was that suggested that the two maids from the dairy and the girl that minded the house should go with Mirandola and strew the road with flowers. And he planned, or they planned under his encouragement, that Peter and three men from the stables should take each a boar-spear and stand two each side of the door like men-at-arms. And it was Father Joseph’s thought that another man should ride down the road till he saw the Duke arriving, and then spur back and tell them so that all should be ready. And the chamber that the Duke should have was prepared, and a room appointed by the Lady of the Tower for each of his four bowmen, and last of all they thought of Gulvarez. Lo, it was found that there was not room for him. But they thought of a long dark loft there was over the stables, where the sacks of corn were kept, longer than any room and nearly as warm: this they set apart for Gulvarez and his two men-at-arms.

XVII

The Three Fair Fields

The day dawned splendidly, and air and fields glittered all the morning with sunlight, which welled up over the world and was only stopped by the forest. Her mother called Mirandola to the room in which the draughts and the tapestries upheld their age-old antagonisms, and spoke with her of Gulvarez. She spoke awhile of his merits, and often paused, for it was her intention to answer her daughter’s objections, but Mirandola made no objections at all. It was of these objections that the Lady of the Tower had been better prepared to speak than of such merits as might be attributed to Gulvarez, and when there were no objections to answer, her pauses grew longer and longer; and soon she said no more at all, but sat and looked at her daughter. And that was a sight for which many would gladly have travelled far; yet the Lady of the Tower was puzzled as she looked, seeing no doubts in her daughter’s face, no hesitations, only a quiet acquiescence, and beyond that the trace of a smile that she could not fathom.

Then Mirandola went from her mother’s room, back to her own, with a quick glance as she went, through every window she passed that looked to the road. And she took the vial that she had had from her brother from the place in which she had hidden it overnight, and once more placed it secretly in her dress. And as she passed through a corridor, leaving her room, she saw from a sunlit window the horseman they all awaited hurrying home.

At once there was a stir of feet in the Tower. The four men with the boar-spears ran to the door; and Father Joseph came out and blessed their gathering, and showed them where to stand and how to hold the spears; and all the while a certain flash in his eye showed them that blessing was not his only work. And the three maids ran to their baskets, that were all full of wild flowers gathered by them in the dew; and Mirandola came with them carrying a basket of rose-petals. As the maidens came through the door Father Joseph blessed the baskets. Then they went slowly up the road all four, strewing the way with flowers.

Once more Father Joseph had seen in Mirandola’s face a look of wonder and awe and joy, as though something had come to her