UEEN ALIZONDE leaned head on hand against her casement: so long she leaned that her ring-jewels grew warm with her cheek.
That morn the burgeoning May had taken her state, the turquoise sky her baudekin; her sceptre a flower-de-luce. All the sward was prankt with little flowers, white and gold, and the fair pool in the Queen's garden shivered, as with love. But Alizonde bent heavy eyes upon them. "Once on a time," thought she, "I was wont to love sweet flowers as they had been children, and so to keep them near me and fondle them, even till they withered in my girdle, and now what are they to me? All one as they were things broidered on my kirtle. And thou, too, thou fair heaven," mused she, "for me thou art but a painted screen—thou dost but shut me out from my desire, like to a loftier roof—I am a-weary, a-weary," said Queen Alizonde. "I am a-weary of doing the thing that is right."
And she thought of her father's kingdom and her dead maidenhood, till her heart wept within her like an ailing babe. "Oh, since thus I was to fare, loveless and lonely, a gemmed image, a Queen sans Queenhood, for what did they learn me of the seven arts? For whom shall I show forth my astronomy and sophistry, my rhetoric and music? They but make me the more forlorn, there being none to pleasure by my learning. Oh, would I were a little maid whose all was her virtue and one white smock, to run forth across the world par amour, and find my love!" Thus moaned Alizonde at her window, all amort, for she had sent forth her maidens a-maying, choosing rather solitude than their light chatter. And one by one the slow tears fell, bright and bitter, and mixed with the gems upon her breast. "I am a-weary," said she again. "Oh, I am sore weary of doing the thing that is right."
'Twas then there floated up to her, clear and gay and soft, as it had been an answer to her sighing, the notes of a bugle very near at hand. Magic sounds they seemed, for as she hearkened she fell a-trembling.
"What is this?" said she. "What is this music that I seem to remember and yet not to remember? Am I to be witless, too?" saith poor Alizonde. Again they sounded and again she trembled. Lovely, loving sounds were they, clear as water, pure as air, gentle as the May, and though gay, there was a sadness in them, as of one who smiles through tears, a sadness that seemed to pluck at the sadness in Alizonde's own heart, crying: "Love me. We are akin." "A spell hath me," whispered she. "Now I almost remember where and when I did first hear that music, long and long ago." But she folded her hands about her face and would not look forth of her window. Then a third time sounded that sweet sound, and like as if one stronger had moved them, her hands lifted apart, and she looked forth and saw one riding towards her through her garden close. All in white was he that made a fair shining in the sun, and white was his horse beneath him, and white its housings that swept the little flower-faces earthward. The knight's crest bore flames, his white shield a rose and a lily, with a flame between. His sword-hilt was of fair gold sewn with pearls, and pearled gold was his horse's bridle. But what fixed the eyes of Alizonde was that which hung about his neck—a lyre of gold and ivory.
"This is no troubadour only," thought she, "but a great knight also, and yet he bears a lyre about his neck. How can this be? Nay, I am fast abed," said Alizonde. "And the gold cage o'erhead, where burn the long peppers and the frankincense, hath given me this mad dream."
And thus gazing down, she met the knight's eyes gazing up. "Now never was there one not beautiful so beautiful," thought Alizonde, and she left her eyes in his. Then suddenly he smiled upon her, and she, forgetting who she was and where she was, made a joyous opening of her arms, and cried out, "Now do I remember where and when!" But even as she spoke twilight gathered in her brain, and all was gone, only they two stayed smiling each upon the other.
Then on a sudden did Alizonde bethink her of her estate, and how she, the Queen, leaned at her window, smiling and being smiled upon by a strange man, so that her blood ran backward, leaving her white as samite, and she said, "Fair Sir and Knight, thou hast missed thy way and art in the Queen's garden."
Whereat he, still smiling, made answer: "Nay, most Gentle and Fairest, I am in the Queen's garden, but I have not missed my way."
Alizonde, as beseemed her, set a frown upon her brow at this, but her heart sang. "Since thou knowest so well the Queen's garden, thou shouldst know the Queen," said she.
"Queen Alizonde," saith he, "I am Mervais, fils du Dovon, and come from thy father, King Hazyl."