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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } - -</style> -<title>A JAY OF ITALY</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="A Jay of Italy" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Bernard Capes" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1905" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="44114" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2013-11-05" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="A Jay of Italy" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="A Jay of Italy" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="jay.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2013-11-05T18:54:45.563998+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44114" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Bernard Capes" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2013-11-05" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20a7 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="a-jay-of-italy"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">A JAY OF ITALY</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: A Jay of Italy -<br /> -<br />Author: Bernard Capes -<br /> -<br />Release Date: November 05, 2013 [EBook #44114] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>A JAY OF ITALY</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">A JAY OF ITALY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">BERNARD CAPES</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>'...Some Jay of Italy,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Whose mother was her painting, hath betrayed him.'</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>CYMBELINE</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">FOURTH EDITION</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">METHUEN AND CO. -<br />36 ESSEX STREET W.C. -<br />LONDON</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">First Published . . July 1905 -<br />Second Edition . . August 1905 -<br />Third Edition . . September 1905 -<br />Fourth Edition . . October 1905</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-i"><span class="bold x-large">A JAY OF ITALY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On a hot morning, in the year 1476 of poignant -memory, there drew up before an osteria on the -Milan road a fair cavalcade of travellers. These were -Messer Carlo Lanti and his inamorata, together with a -suite of tentmen, pages, falconers, bed-carriers, and other -personnel of a migratory lord on his way from the cooling -hills to the Indian summer of the plains. The chief of -the little party, halting in advance of his fellows, lifted -his plumed scarlet biretta with one strong young hand, -and with the other, his reins hanging loose, ran a cluster -of swarthy fingers through his black hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O little host!' he boomed, blaspheming—for all good -Catholics, conscious of their exclusive caste, swore by -God prescriptively—'O little host, by the thirst of Christ's -passion, wine!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He will bring you hyssop—by the token, he will,' -murmured the lady, who sat her white palfrey languidly -beside him. She was a slumberous, ivory-faced creature -warm and insolent and lazy; and the little bells of her -bridle tinkled sleepily, as her horse pawed, gently -rocking her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cavalier grunted ferociously. 'Let me see him!' -and, bonneting himself again, sat with right arm akimbo, -glaring for a response to his cry. He looked on first -acquaintance a bully and profligate—which he was; but, -for his times, with some redeeming features. His thigh, -in its close violet hose, and the long blade which hung at -it seemed somehow in a common accord of steel and -muscle. His jaw was underhung, his brows were very -thick and black, but the eyes beneath were -good-humored, and he had a great dimple in his cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A murmur of voices came from the inn, but no answer -whatever to the demand. The building, glaring white as -a rock rolled into the plains from the great mountains -to the north, had a little bush of juniper thrust out on a -staff above its door. It looked like a dry tongue -protruded in derision, and awoke the demon in Messer -Lanti. He turned to a Page:—'Ercole!' he roared, -pointing; 'set a light there, and give these hinds a -lesson!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lady laughed, and, stirring a little, watched the -page curiously. But the boy had scarcely reached the -ground when the landlord appeared bowing at the door. -The cavalier fumed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ciacco—hog!' he thundered: 'did you not hear us -call?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Illustrious, no.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Where were your ears? Nailed to the pillory?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, Magnificent, but to the utterances of the little -Parablist of San Zeno.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O hog! now by the Mass, I say, they had been better -pricked to thy business. O ciacco, I tell thee thy -Parablist was like, in another moment, to have addressed -thee out of a burning bush. What! I would drink, -swine! And, harkee, somewhere from those deep vats -of thine the perfume of an old wine of Cana rises to my -nostrils. I say no more. Despatch!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The landlord, abasing himself outwardly, took solace -of a private curse as he turned into the shadow of his -porch—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'These skipjacks of the Sforzas! limbs of a country -churl!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something lithe and gripping sprang upon his back -as he muttered, making him roar out; and the chirrup -of a great cricket shrilled in his ear—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Biting limbs! clawing, hooking, scoring limbs! ha-ha, -hee-hee, ho-bir-r-r-r!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Boniface, sweating with panic, wriggled to shake off -his incubus. It clung to him toe and claw. Slewing his -gross head, he saw, squatted upon his shoulders, a -manikin in green livery, a monstrous grasshopper in -seeming.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Messer Fool,' he gurgled—'dear my lord's most -honoured jester!' (he was essaying all the time to stagger -with his burden out of earshot)—'prithee spare to damn -a poor fellow for a hasty word under provocation! -Prithee, sweet Messer Fool!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little creature, sitting him as a frog a pike, hooked -its small talons into the corners of his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Provocation!' it laughed, rocking—'provocation by -his grandness to a guts! If I fail to baste thee on a -spit for it, call me not Cicada!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mercy!' implored the landlord, staggering and groping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nothing for nothing. At what price, tunbelly?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The landlord clutched in his blindness at the post of a -descending stair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The best in my house.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What best, paunch?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Milan cheese—boiled bacon. Ah, dear Messer Cicada, -there is a fat cold capon, for which I will go fasting to -thee.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And what wine, beast?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What thou wilt, indeed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The jester spurred him with a vicious heel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Away, then! Sink, submerge, titubate, and evanish -into thy crystal vaults!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas, I cannot see!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rider shifted his clutch to the fat jowls of his -victim, who thereupon, with a groan, descended a rude -flight of steps at a run, and brought up with his burden -in a cool grotto. Here were casks and stoppered jars -innumerable; shelves of deep blue flasks; lolling -amphoræ, and festoons of cobwebs drunk with must. -Cicada leapt with one spring to a barrel, on which he -squatted, rather now like a green frog than a grasshopper. -His face, lean and leathery, looked as if dipped -in a tan-pit; his eyes were as aspish as his tongue; he -was a stunted, grotesque little creature, all vice and -whipcord.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Despatch!' he shrilled. 'Thy wit is less a desert -than my throat.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Anon!' mumbled the landlord, and hurried for a -flask. 'Let thy tongue roll on that,' he said, 'and call -me grateful. As to the capon, prithee, for my bones' -sake, let me serve thy masters first.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The jester had already the flask at his mouth. The -wine sank into him as into hot sand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go,' he said, stopping a moment, and bubbling—'go, -and damn thy capon; I ask no grosser aliment than -this.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The landlord, bustling in a restored confidence, filled a -great bottle from a remote jar, and armed with it and -some vessels of twisted glass, mounted to daylight once -more. Messer Lanti, scowling in the sun, cursed him for -a laggard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Magnificent!' pleaded the man, 'the sweetest wine, -like the sweetest meat, is near the bone.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Deep in the ribs of the cellars, meanest, O, ciacco?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took a long draught, and turned to his lady.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Trust the rogue, Beatrice; it is, indeed, near the -marrow of deliciousness.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sipped of her glass delicately, and nodded. The -cavalier held out his for more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Malvasia, hog?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Malvasia, most honoured; trod out by the white feet -of prettiest contadina, and much favoured, by the token, -of the Abbot of San Zeno yonder.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Messer Lanti looked up with a new good-humour. -The party was halted in a great flat basin among hills, -on one of the lowest of which, remote and austere, -sparkled the high, white towers of a monastery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There,' he said, signifying the spot to his companion -with a grin; 'hast heard of Giuseppe della Grande, -Beatrice, the </span><em class="italics">father</em><span> of his people?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And not least of our own little Parablist, Madonna,' -put in the landlord, with a salutation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Plague, man!' cried Lanti; 'who the devil is this -Parablist you keep throwing at us?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'They call him Bernardo Bembo, my lord. He was -dropped and bred among the monks—some by-blow of -a star, they say, in the year of the great fall. He was -found at the feet of Mary's statue; and, certes, he is -gifted like an angel. He mouths parables as it were -prick-songs, and is esteemed among all for a saint.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A fair saint, i'faith, to be carousing in a tavern.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O my lord! he but lies here an hour from the sun, on -his way, this very morning, to Milan, whither he vouches -he has had a call. And for his carousing, spring water -is it all, and the saints to pay, as I know to my cost.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He should have stopped at the rill, methinks.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He will stop at nothing,' protested the landlord -humbly; 'nay, not even the rebuking by his parables -of our most illustrious lord, the Duke Galeazzo himself.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lanti guffawed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou talkest treason, dog. What is to rebuke there?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What indeed, Magnificent? Set a saint, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> say, to -catch a saint.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other laughed louder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The right sort of saint for that, I trow, from Giuseppe's -loins.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, good my lord, the Lord Abbot himself is no -less a saint.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What!' roared Lanti, 'saints all around! This is -the right hagiolatry, where I need never despair of a -niche for myself. I too am the son of my father, dear -Messer Ciacco, as this Parablist is, I'll protest, of your -Abbot, whose piety is an old story. What! you don't -recognise a family likeness?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The landlord abased himself between deference and -roguery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is not for me to say, Magnificent. I am no expert -to prove the common authorship of this picture and the -other.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He lowered his eyes with a demure leer. Honest -Lanti, bending to rally him, chuckled loudly, and then, -rising, brought his whip with a boisterous smack across -his shoulders. The landlord jumped and winced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Spoken like a discreet son of the Church!' cried the -cavalier.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He breathed out his chest, drained his glass, still -laughing into it, and, handing it down, settled himself in -his saddle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And so,' he said, 'this saintly whelp of a saint is on -his way to rebuke the lord of Sforza?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'With deference, my lord, like a younger Nathan. So -he hath been miscalled—I speak nothing from myself. -The young man hath lived all his days among visions -and voices; and at the last, it seems, they've spelled him -out Galeazzo—though what the devil the need is there? as -your Magnificence says. But perhaps they made a -mistake in the spelling. The blessed Fathers themselves -teach us that the best holiness lacks education.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madonna laughed out a little. 'This is a very good -fool!' she murmured, and yawned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I don't know about that,' said Lanti, answering the -landlord, and wagging his sage head. 'I'm not the -most pious of men myself. But tell us, sirrah, how -travels his innocence?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'On foot, my lord, like a prophet's.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>''Twill the sooner lie prone.' He turned to my lady. -'Wouldst like to add him to Cicada and thy monkey, -and carry him along with us?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' she said pettishly, 'I have enough of monstrosities. -Will you keep me in the sun all day?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well,' said Lanti, gathering his reins, 'it puzzles me -only how the Abbot could part thus with his discretion.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, Illustrious,' answered the landlord, 'he was in a -grievous pet, 'tis stated. But, there! prophecy will no -more be denied than love. A' must out or kill. And -so he had to let Messer Bembo go his gaits with a letter -only to this monastery and that, in providence of a -sanctuary, and one even, 'tis whispered, to the good -Duchess Bona herself. But here, by the token, he comes.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bowed deferentially, backing apart. Messer Lanti -stared, and gave a profound whistle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O, indeed!' he muttered, showing his strong teeth, -'this Giuseppe propagates the faith very prettily!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madam Beatrice was staring too. She expressed no -further impatience to be gone for the moment. A young -man, followed by some kitchen company adoring and -obsequious, had come out by the door, and stood -regarding her quietly. She had expected some apparition of -austerity, some lean, neurotic friar, wasting between -dogmatism and sensuality. And instead she saw an -angel of the breed that wrestled with Jacob.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was so much a child in appearance, with such an -aspect of wonder and prettiness, that the first motion of -her heart towards him was like the leap of motherhood. -Then she laughed, with a little dye come to her cheek, -and eyed him over the screen of feathers she held in her -hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He advanced into the sunlight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Greeting, sweet Madonna,' he said, in his grave young -voice, 'and fair as your face be your way!' and he was -offering to pass her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She could only stare, the bold jade, at a loss for an -answer. The soft umber eyes of the youth looked into -hers. They were round and velvety as a rabbit's, with -high, clean-pencilled brows over. His nose was short -and pretty broad at the bridge, and his mouth was a -little mouth, pouting as a child's, something combative, -and with lips like tinted wax. Like a girl's his jaw was -round and beardless, and his hair a golden fleece, cut -square at the neck, and its ends brittle as if they had -been singed in fire. His doublet and hose were of -palest pink; his bonnet, shoes, and mantlet of cypress-green -velvet. Rose-coloured ribbons, knotted into silver -buckles, adorned his feet; and over his shoulder, pendent -from a strand of the same hue, was slung a fair lute. -He could not have passed, by his looks, his sixteenth -summer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lanti pushed rudely forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A moment, saint troubadour, a moment!' he cried. -'It will please us, hearing of your mission, to have a taste -of your quality.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The youth, looking at him a little, swung his lute -forward and smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What would you have, gracious sir?' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What? Why, prophesy us our case in parable.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I know not your name nor calling.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A pretty prophet, forsooth. But I will enlighten thee. -I am Carlo Lanti, gentleman of the Duke, and this fair -lady the wife of him we call the Count of Casa Caprona.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy frowned a little, then nodded and touched -the strings. And all in a moment he was improvising -the strangest ditty, a sort of cantefable between prose -and song:—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'A lord of little else possessed a jewel,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of his small state incomparably the crown.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But he, going on a journey once,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To his wife committed it, saying,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"This trust with you I pledge till my return;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>See, by your love, that I redeem my trust."</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But she, when he was gone, thinking "he will not know,"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Procured its exact fellow in green glass,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And sold her lord's gem to one who bid her fair;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then, conscience-haunted, wasted all those gains</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Secretly, without enjoyment, lest he should hear and wonder.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But he returning, she gave him the bauble,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And, deceived, he commended her; and, shortly after, dying,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Left her that precious jewel for all dower,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Bequeathing elsewhere the residue of his estate.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Now, was not this lady very well served,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Inheriting the whole value, as she had appraised it,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of her lord's dearest possession?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Gentles, Dishonour is a poor estate.'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Half-chaunting, half-talking, to an accompaniment of -soft-touched chords, he ended with a little shrug of -abandonment, and dropped the lute from his fingers. -His voice had been small and low, but pure; the sweet -thrum of the strings had lifted it to rhapsody. Messer -Lanti scratched his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, if that is a parable!' he puzzled. 'But -supposing it aims at our case, why—Casa Caprona is neither -poor nor dead; and as to a jewel——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at Madam Beatrice, who was frowning and -biting her lip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why heed the peevish stuff?' she said. 'Will you -come? I am sick to be moving.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo was suddenly illuminated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O, to be sure, of course!' he ejaculated—'the -jewel——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hold your tongue!' cried the lady sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The honest blockhead went into a roar of laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He has touched thee, he has touched thee! And -these are his means to convert the Duke! By Saint -Ambrose, 'twill be a game to watch! I swear he shall -go with us.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not with my consent,' cried madam.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo, chuckling tormentingly, looked at her, then -doffed his cap mockingly to the boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Sweet Messer Bembo,' he said, 'I take your lesson -much to heart, and pray you gratefully—as we are both -for Milan, I understand—to give us the honour of your -company thither. I am in good standing with the Duke, -I say, and you would lose nothing by having a friend -at court. Those half-boots'—he glanced at the pretty -pumps—'could as ill afford the penalties of the road as -your innocence its dangers.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have no more fear than my divine Master,' said the -boy boldly, 'in carrying His gospel of love.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well for you,' said Carlo, with a grin of approval for -his spirit; 'but a gospel that goes in silken doublet and -lovelocks is like to be struck dumb before it is uttered.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'As to my condition, sir,' said the boy, 'I dress as for a -feast, our Master having prepared the board. Are we -not redeemed and invited? We walk in joy since the -Resurrection, and Limbo is emptied of its gloom. The -kingdom of man shall be love, and the government -thereof. Preach heresy in rags. 'Twas the Lord Abbot -equipped me thus, my own stout heart prevailing. -"Well, they will encounter an angel walking by the -road," quoth he, "and, if they doubt, show 'em thy white -shoulder-knobs, little Bernardino, and they will see the -wings sprouting underneath like the teeth in a baby's -gums."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was evidently, if sage or lunatic, an amazing child. -The rough libertine was quite captivated by him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, you will come with us, Bernardino?' said he; -'for with a cracked skull it might go hard with you to -prove your shoulder-blades.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will come, lord, to reap the harvest where I have -sowed the grain.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked with a serene severity at the countess.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Shalt take thee pillion, Beatrice,' shouted Lanti. 'Up, -pretty troubadour, and recount her more parables by the -way.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'May I die but he shall not,' cried the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He shall, I say.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will bite, and rake him with my nails.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The more fool you, to spoil a saint! Reproofs come -not often in such a guise as this. Up, Bernardino, and -parable her into submission!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She made a show of resisting, in the midst of which -Bembo won to his place deftly on the fore-saddle. At -the moment of his success, the fool Cicada sprang from -the tavern door, and, lurching with wild, glazed eyes, -leapt, hooting, upon the crupper of the beast, almost -bringing it upon its haunches. With an oath Lanti -brought down his whip with such fury that the fool rolled -in the dust.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Drunken dog!' he roared, and would have ridden -over the writhing body, had not Bembo backed the white -palfrey to prevent him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou strik'st the livery, not the man!' he cried. -'Hast never thyself been drunk, and without the excuse -of this poor fool to make a trade of folly?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Messer Lanti glared, then in a moment laughed. The -battered grasshopper took advantage of the diversion to -rise and slink to the rear. The next moment the whole -cavalcade was in motion.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-ii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>They travelled on till sundown through the green -plains; and, for one good hour dating from their -start, not a word would Madam Beatrice utter. Then -she gave out—Messer Carlo being a distance in -advance—but with no grace at all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You are an ill horseman, Saint. I am near jogged -from my seat.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Put thine arms about me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, I am not holy enough.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was silent again, for five minutes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Your lute bangs my nose.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shifted it. She held her peace during two minutes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who taught you to play it, Saint?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It was one of the fathers. What would it profit you -to know which?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nothing at all. I trow he was a good master to that -and your gospel.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My gospel?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, of love. He has made you worldly-wise for a -saint. Hast ever before been beyond thy walls?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Of course.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And studied this and that? Experience, methinks is -the right nurse for such a creed. What made you accuse -me of dishonour?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I did not.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, is that to be a saint?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Whom the shoe fits, let her wear it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bernardo! </span><em class="italics">Where got you the shoe</em><span>?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Does it fit, I say?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I fear me 'twas in some bagnio.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Where you had dropped it? For shame!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A rather long pause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will not be angry—just yet. Where got you the -shoe, I say? An eavesdropper is well equipped for a -prophet.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am no eavesdropper.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who enlightened you?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Your cicisbeo.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Under that title?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay; it is not the devil's policy to call himself devil.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A shorter pause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But you had heard of me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nothing escapes the Church's hearing. Besides, -Messer Lanti's summer lodge is within call, one may say -of San Zeno.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You are daring. Dost know in what high favour he -stands with the Duke?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Else how could he have compassed Uriah's dismissal -to the wars?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Silence, and then a sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Whom do you mean by Uriah?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thy lord, the Count of Casa Caprona.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He is a soldier, and an old man.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Didst covenant with his age in thy marriage vows?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bernardino, I am very sleepy.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Sleep, then, and forget thyself, and awake, another.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sighed, and put her arms softly about him and her -cheek against his shoulder. Messer Lanti, falling back, -saw her thus, with closed eyes; and laughed, and then -frowned, and cried boisterously—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hast converted her, Parablist? Art a saint indeed?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He spurred forward again, with a discontented look, -and madam opened her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What gossips are thine old monks, Bernardino; and -what hypocrites, denouncing the licence they example!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I know not what you mean.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Are they all saints, then, in San Zeno?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That is for Rome to say. It is a good law which lays -down this wine of sanctity to mature. In a hundred -years we shall know what stood the test.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah me! And I am but seventeen. Will you speak -for your Abbot?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, like a dear son.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is he your father, Bernardo?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is he not the father of us all?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Maybe. But 'tis of Benjamin I ask. Now, he is a -strange father, methinks, to bid his Benjamin, thus -apparelled, on a wild goose chase.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He could not discount the voices.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What voices?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy lifted his face and eyes to the heavens, and -lowered them again with no answer but a sigh of rapture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So? And did the voices bid thee wear a velvet -mantlet and roses to thy shoes?' whispered the girl, -with a tiny chuckle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'They said, "Not in cockle shells, but a plume, goes -the Pilgrim of Love,"' answered Bembo. 'As I am and -have been, God finds me fitting in His sight.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And the Father Abbot, I wot?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes: "Since," says he, "Christ bequeathed His -Kingdom to beauty."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And you have inherited it? I think I will be your -subject, Bernardo.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I hope so, Madonna.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He spoke perfectly gravely, and made her a little -courtly gesture backwards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well,' said she, 'had </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> been Father Abbot, I had -put this pet of my fancy in a cage.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You know not of what you speak,' he answered -seriously. 'God works great ends with little instruments. -The puny bee is yet the very fairy midwife of the forests, -I should have broke my heart had he denied me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It would have saved others, alack!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What do you mean?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nothing at all. Will you sing me another parable, -Bernardo?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, Madonna; and on what subject? The woman -taken in adultery?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If you like; and whom Christ forgave.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">And He said: "Go, and sin no more"</em><span>'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She began to weep softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is shocking to be so abused for a little thing. I -would you were back with your monks.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sighed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah!' she murmured, still weeping, 'that this bee -had been content to remain a pander to his flowers! To -dup hell's door with a reed! You know not to what you -have engaged yourself, my poor boy.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'To Christ, His service of Love,' he said simply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go back, go back!' she cried in pain. 'There are -ten thousand sophisters to interpret that word according -to their lusts. Convert Galeazzo? Convert the -brimstone lake from burning! Dost know the manner of -man he is?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Else why am I here?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, but his moods, his passions, his nameless, -shameless deeds? He hath no pity but for his desires; no -mercy but through his caprices. To cross him is to taste -the rack, the fire, the living burial. He is possessed. -Some believe him Caligula reincarnate—an atavism of -that dreadful stock. And dost think to quench that -furnace with a parable? Unless, indeed—Go back, little -Bembo, and waste thy passion for reform on thy monks.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Madonna,' he said, 'I obey the voices. I shall not -be let to perish, since Christ died to save His world to -loveliness.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the early rapture of the renaissance, -penetrating like an April song into these newly reclaimed -lands. The wind blew from Florence, and all the -peaceful vales, so long trodden into a bloody mire, -were awakening to the ecstasy of the </span><em class="italics">Promise</em><span>. That -men interpreted according to their lights—lights burning -fast and passionate in most places, but in a few quiet -and holy. The breed of German bandits, of foreign -mercenaries, was swept away. Gone was the whole -warring race of the Visconti, and in its place the -peasant Sforza had set a guard about the land of his -fierce adoption, that he might till and graft and prosper -in peace. Italy had asserted itself the inheritance of its -children, the Court of God's Vicegerent, the chosen land -of Love's gospel. That, too, men interpreted according -to their lights. 'We are all the vineyard of Rome,' said -the little Parablist. Alas! he thought Rome the Holy -of Holies, and his father a saint. But his father, who -adored him, had committed him, with his blessing, to -this mad romance! Such were the paradoxes of the -Gospel of Love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beatrice spoke no more, and they rode on in silence. -About evening they came into a pleasant dell, where -there was a level sward among rocks; and a little stream, -running down a stairway of stones, dropped laughing, -like a child going to bed, into the quiet of a rushy pool. -Great chestnuts clothed the slopes, and made a mantle, -powdered with stars, to the setting sun. It was a very -nest for love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Messer Lanti, halting, commanded the green tents to -be pitched on the grass. Then, with a stormy scowl -and a mockery of courtesy, he came to dismount his -lady.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now,' says he, as he got her aside, 'if I do not show -thy saint to be a petticoat, my hug of thee is like to -prove a bear's.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What!' she said, amazed: 'Bernardo?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He ground his teeth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I do not mark his pink cheeks for nothing.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, an he be,' she retorted coldly, 'I am liker, than -if he be not, to lose my gallant.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That depends,' he growled, 'upon whom your fickleship -honours with that title'; and he strode away, calling -roughly to Bembo, 'Art for a bath, saint, before -supper?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, gladly, Carlo,' said the boy, 'so we may be -private.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They went down to the pool together, and stripped -and entered. Lanti saw a Ganymede, and was not -pleased thereat. He came to supper in a very bad -humour, which no innocent artifice of his guest could -allay. The kill that day of their falcons—partridges, -served in their own feathers, and stuffed with artichokes -and truffles—was tough; the pears and peaches were -sour; the confetti savourless and of stale design. He -rated his cook, cursed his servitors, and drank more than -he ate. When the disagreeable meal was ended, he -strode ruffling away, saying he desired his own sole -company, which it were well that all should respect. -Bembo saw him go, with a sigh and a smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good, honest soul,' quoth he, 'that already wakes to -the reckoning!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madam misunderstood him, and pressed a little closer, -with a happy echo of his sigh. Her eyes were soft -with wine and passion. She had no precedent for -doubting her influence on the moment she chose to -make her own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The reckoning!' she murmured. 'But I am wax -in thy hands, pretty saint. Shalt confess me, and take -what toll thou wilt of my sins?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her hand settled light as a bird on his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Sing to me, Bernardino,' she whispered wooingly, -'sith the cloud is gone from our moon, and I am in the -will to love.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shot one little startled glance her way; then -slowly slung round his lute, and, touching the strings -pensively, melted into the following reproach:—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'Speak low! What do you ask, false love? Speak low!</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Sin cannot speak too low.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>The night-wind stealing to thy bosom,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The dead star, dropping like a blossom,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Less voiceless be than thou!</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Low, lower yet, false love, if to confess</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>What guilt, what shameful need?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>God, who can hear the budding grass,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And flake kiss flake in the snowy pass,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Your secret else will heed.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Ah! thou art silent, not from love, but fear,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And true love knows no fear.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Creeping, soft-footed, in the dust,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It is not love, but conscious lust,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Which dreads that God shall hear.'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>He rose swiftly beside her, while she sat, dumbly -biting a lock of her own hair. The frown of outraged -passion was in her eyes. What had the fool dared in -rejecting her!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To touch the perfumed essence of sin with a rebuke -which was like a caress—that, </span><em class="italics">pace</em><span> his monks, was -Bernardo's rendering of the Gospel; and who shall say -that, in its girlish tenderness, its earnest emotionalism, -it was not the most dangerous method of all? Not -every adulterous woman is fit to meet the gentle fate of -Christ's. It is not always well to doctor too much -kindness with more. Surfeit, surely, is not safely cured, -unless by a God, with sugar-plums.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'For shame!' he said quietly; 'for shame! Christ -weeps for thee!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked up with a frozen, insolent smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yet there is no tear in all the night, prophet.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He raised his hand. A star trailed down the sky, and -disappeared behind the trees. It startled her for a -moment, and in that moment he was gone, striding into -the moonlight. She saw a sword gleam in the shadow -of the tent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Carlo!' she hissed; 'Carlo! follow and kill him!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Messer Lanti came out of his ambush, sheathing his -blade. His teeth grinned in the white glow. He -sauntered up to her, and stood looking down, hand -on hip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not for all the bona-robas in the world,' he said, -and struck his hilt lightly. 'This I dedicate to his -service from this day. Let who crosses my little saint -beware it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He burst out laughing, not fierce, but low.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou art well served in thy confessor, woman. Wert -never dealt a fitter penance.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was significant enough that he had no word but -mockery for her discomfiture. He might have spitted -the seduced on a point of gallantry; for the siren, she -was sacred through her calling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the meanwhile Bernardo had left the green, had -passed the low, roistering camp pitched at a respectful -distance beyond, and had thrown himself upon his -knees in the wide fields.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Sweet Jesus,' he prayed, 'O justify Thy Kingdom -before Thy servant! Already my young footsteps are -warned of the bitter pass to come. Be Thou with me -in the rocky ways, lest I faint and slip before my -time.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He remained long minutes beseeching, while the -moon, anchored in a little stream of clouds, seemed to -his excited imagination the very boat which awaited -the coming of One who should walk the waters. He -stretched out his arms to it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lord save me,' he cried, 'or I sink!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He heard a snuffle at his back, and looked round and -up to find the fool Cicada regarding him glassily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Sink!' stuttered the creature, swaying where he -stood. 'Lord save me too! I am under already—drowned -in Malmsey!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo rose to his feet with a happy sigh. '</span><em class="italics">Exultate -Deo adjutori nostro!</em><span>' he murmured, 'I am answered.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His clear, serene young brow confronted the fuddled -wrinkles of the other's like an angel's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Cicada mio,' he said endearingly; 'judge if God is -dull of hearing, when, on the echo of my cry, here is one -holding out his hand to me!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Fool, staring stupidly, lifted his own lean right -paw, and squinted to focus his gaze on it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Meaning me?—meaning this?' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A return, with interest, on the little service I was able -to render thee this morning. O, I am grateful, Cicada!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Fool, utterly bemused, squatted him down on the -grass in a sudden inspiration, and so brought his wits to -anchor. Bernardo fell on his knees beside him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What moved you to come and save me?' he said -softly. 'What moved you?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cicada, disciplined to seize the worst occasion with an -epigram, made a desperate effort to concentrate his -parts on the present one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The wine in my head,' he mumbled, waggling that -sage member. ''Tis the wet-nurse to all valour. I -walked but out of the furnace a furlong to cool myself, -and lo! I am a hero without knowing it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked up dimly, his face working and twitching -in the moonlight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Recount, expound, and enucleate,' said he. 'From -what has the Fool saved the Parablist?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'From the deep waters,' said Bembo, 'into which he -had entered, magnifying his height.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Fool fell a-chuckling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There was a hunter once,' said he, 'that thought he -would sound his horn to a hymn, and behold! he was -chasing the deer before he had fingered the first stops. -Expound me the parable, Parablist. Thou preachest -universal goodwill, they say?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, do I.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou shalt be confuted with thine own text.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How, dear Fool?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, shall not every wife be kind to her friend's -husband?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, if she would be unkind to her own.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Fool scratched his head, his hood thrown back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And so, in thy wisdom, thou step'st into a puddle, -and lo! it is over thy ears. Will you come out, good -Signor Goodwill, and ride home in a baby's pannier?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo caught one of the wrinkled hands in his soft palms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dear Cicada,' he said, 'are there not tears in your -heart the whiles you mock? Do you not love me, Cicada, -as one you have saved from death?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some sort of emotion startled the harsh features of -the Fool.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What better love could I show,' he muttered, 'than -to warn thee back from the toils that stretch for thy -wings?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, to warn me, to warn me, Cicada!' cried the boy, -'but not home to the nest. How shall he ever fly that -fears to quit it? Be rather like my mother, Cicada, and -advise these my simple wings.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Fool caught his breath in a sudden gasp—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thy mother! I!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A spasm of pain seemed to cross his face. He laughed -wildly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'An Angel out of a Fool! That were a worthy -parent to hold divinity in leading-strings.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Zitto, Cicca mio!' said Bembo sweetly, pressing a -finger to his lips. 'Do I not know what wit goes to the -acting of folly—what experience, what observation? If -thou wouldst lend these all to my help and aid!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'In what?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'In this propaganda to govern men by love.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou playest, a child, with the cross-bow.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I know it. I have been warned; direct thou my hand.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I!' exclaimed the Fool once more in a startled cry. -And suddenly, wonder of wonders! he was grovelling at -the other's knees, pawing them, weeping and moaning, -hiding his face in the grass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What saint is this?' he cried, 'what saint that claims -the Fool to his guide?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas!' said the boy, 'no saint, but a child of the -human God.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And He mated with Folly,' cried Cicada, 'and Folly -is to direct the bolt!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat up, beating his brow in an ecstasy, then all in a -moment forbore, and was as calm as death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So be it,' he said. 'Be thou the divine fool, and I thy -mother.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a quick movement Bembo caught the Fool's -cheeks between his palms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, mother,' said he, with a little choking laugh, 'but -see that thy hand on mine be steady, lest the quarrel fly -wide or rebound upon ourselves.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the true mark indeed to which the cunning -rascal had all this time been sighting his bow. He -watched anxiously now for the tokens of a hit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Fool sat very still awhile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Speak clearer,' he muttered; then of a sudden: 'What -wouldst ask of me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah! dear,' sighed Bembo; 'only that thou wouldst -justify thyself of this new compact of ours.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am clean—as thou readest love. Who but God -would consort with Folly? The Fool is cursed to -virginity.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Cicada, dear, but there is no Chastity without -Temperance.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Fool tore himself away, and slunk crouching back -upon the grass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I renounce thy God!' he chattered hoarsely, 'that -would have me false to my love, my mistress, my one -friend! Who has borne me through these passes, stood -by me in pain and madness, dulled the bitter tooth of -shame while it tore my entrails? Cure wantonness in -women, gluttony in wolves, before you ask me to be -dastard to my dear.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas!' cried Bembo, 'then am I lost indeed!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A long pause followed, till in a moment the Fool had -flung himself once more upon his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lay not this thing on me,' he cried, clutching at the -grass; 'lay it not! It is to tear my last hope by the -roots, to banish me from the kingdom of dreams, to bury -me in the everlasting ice! I will follow thee in all else, -humbly and adoringly; I will try to vindicate this love -which has stooped from heaven to a clown; I will perish -in thy service—only waste not my paradise in the moment -of its realisation.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo stooped, kneeling, and laid one hand softly on -his shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Poor Cicada,' he said, 'poor Cicada! Alas! I am a -child where I had hoped a man, and my head sinks -beneath the waters. Tired am I, and fain to go rest my -head in a lap that erst invited me. Return thou to thy -bottle, as I to my love.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Fool, trailing himself up on his knees, caught his -hands in a wild, convulsive clutch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Fiend or angel!' he cried, 'thou shall not!—The -woman!—The skirts of the scarlet woman! Go rest -thyself—not there—but in peace. From this moment -I abjure it—dost hear, I abjure it? I kill my love for -love's sake. O! O!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he fell writhing, like a wounded snake, on the -grass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">Salve, sancta parens!</em><span>' said Bembo, lifting up his hands -fervently to the queen of night. The pious rogue was -quite happy in his stratagem, since it had won him his -first convert to cleanness.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-iii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The lady of Casa Caprona had flown her -tassel-gentle and missed her quarry. Outwardly she -seemed little disturbed by her failure—as insolent as -indolent—an imperious serenity in a velvet frame. The -occasion which had given, which was still giving, Carlo -a tough thought or two to digest, she had already, on -the morning following her discomfiture, assimilated, -apparently without a pang. 'The which doth demonstrate,' -thought Cicada, as he took covert and venomous -note of her, 'a signal point of difference between the -sexes. In self-indulgent wickedness there may be little -to distinguish man from woman. In the reaction from -it, there is this: The man is subject to qualms of -conscience; the woman is not. She may be disenchanted, -surfeited, aggrieved against fate or circumstance; she is -not offended with herself. Remorse never yet spoiled -her sleep, unless where she desired and doubted it -on her account in another. What she hath done she -hath done; and what she hath failed to do slumbers for -her among the unrealities—among things unborn—seeds -in the womb of Romance, which, though she be the first -subject for it, she understands as little as she does -beauty. From the outset hath she been manoeuvring to -confuse the Nature in man by using its distorted image -in herself to lure him. Out upon her crimps and lacings! -</span><em class="italics">He</em><span> would be dressing and thinking to-day like an -Arcadian shepherd, an she had not warped his poor -vision with her sorcery! She wears the vestments of -ugliness, and its worship is her religion.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It must be admitted that he offered himself a cross -illustration to his own text. The desperate concession -wrung from him last night in a moment of vinous -exaltation, had found his sober morning senses under a -mountain of depression. He was bitterly aggrieved -against fate; yet the only quarrel he had with himself -was for that mad vow of temperance, not for the vice -which had exacted it of him. The tongue in his head -was like a heater in an iron. Tantalus draughts lipped -and bubbled against his palate. The parched soil of his -heart, he felt, would never again blossom in little lonely -oases—never again know the solace of dreams aloof from -the world. His traffic being by no means with heaven, -God, he supposed, had sent an angel to convert it. And -he had succumbed through the angel's calling him—mother!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He struck his hollow breast with a wild laugh. He -groaned over the memory of that emotional folly. He -damned himself, his trade, his employer, his aching -head—everything and every one, in short, but the author of his -misery. Him he could not curse—not more than if that -preposterous relationship between them had been real. -Neither did he once dream of violating his word to him, -since it had been given—absurd thought—to his child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was none the less savage against circumstance—vicious, -desperate, insolent with his master, as cross all -over as a Good Friday bun. Messer Lanti, himself in a -curiously sober mood, indulged his most acrid sallies -with a good-humoured tolerance which, contemptuously -oblivious as it was of any late smart of his own inflicting, -was harder than the blow itself in its implication of -a fault overlooked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Rally, Cicca!' said he, as they were preparing to -horse; 'look'st as sour as a green crab. What! if we -are to ride with Folly, give us a fool's text for the -journey, man.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cicada dwelt a moment on his stirrup, looking round -banefully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And who to illustrate it, lord?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, thy lord, if thou wilt,' said Carlo. 'He will be -no curmudgeon in a bid for laughter.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Fool gained his mule's saddle, and digging heels -into the beast's flanks, drove forward. Lanti, with a -whoop, spurred alongside of him. Cicada slowed to a -stop.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hast overtaken Folly, master?' said he, with a leer. -'I knew you would not be long.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo scratched his head. The Fool turned and rode -back; so did the other. By the brook-side little Bembo -was preparing to mount a steed with which he had been -accommodated, since the lady had peremptorily declined -to ride pillion to him again. Cicada referred to him with -a gesture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'For us,' he said, 'we are two fools in a leash, sith -Sanctity, stopping where he was, is at the goal -before us.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lanti grumbled: 'O, if this is a text!' and beat his -wits desperately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A text, sirrah!' he roared, 'a text for the journey.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will rhyme it you,' said the Fool imperturbably, -pointing his bauble at Madam Beatrice, who at the -moment stepped from the green tent:—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'Nothing is gained to start apace,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>After another hath won the race.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Shall you and I be jogging, master?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lanti raised his whip furiously. Cicada, slipping from -his mule, dodged behind Bembo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Save me!' he squealed, 'save me! I am sound. It -is folly to give a sound man a tonic.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo burst into a vexed laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well,' said he, 'go to. I think I am in a rare mood -for charity.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little party breakfasted on cups of clear water -from the spring, and, in the fresh of the morning, folded -its tents and started leisurely on the final stages of its -journey. Madonna, lazy-lidded, sat her palfrey like a -vine-goddess. Her bosom rose and fell in absolute -tranquillity. She bestirred herself only, when Bembo -rode near, to lavish ostentatious fondness on her Carlo, -a regard which her Carlo repaid with a like ostentation -of attention towards his little saint. It was an open -conspiracy of souls, bared to one another, to justify -their nakedness before heaven; only the woman carried -off her shame with an air. Bernardo she ignored -loftily; but her heart was busy, under all its calm -exterior, with a poisonous point of vengeance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently, the sun striking hot, she dismounted and -withdrew into her litter, a miniature long waggon, drawn -on rude wheels by a yoke of sleepy oxen, and having -an embroidered tilt opening to the side. A groom, -walking there in attendance, led her palfrey by the -bridle. Lanti and his guest, with the Fool for company, -rode a distance ahead. The young nobleman was -thoughtful and silent; yet it was obvious that he, with -the others, felt the relief of that secession. Bernardo -broke into a bright laugh, and rallied Cicada on his -glumness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why should I be merry,' said the jester, with a sour -face, 'when I was invited to a feast, and threatened -with a cudgelling for attending?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bernardo looked at him lovingly. He thought this -was some allusion to his self-enforced abstinence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dear Cicca,' said he, 'the feast was not worth the -reckoning.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O, was it not!' cried Cicada with a hoarse crow. -'But I spoke of my lord's brains, which, by the token, -are the right flap-doodle.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put Bembo between himself and Lanti.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Judge between us,' he cried, 'judge between us, -Messer Parablist. He offered to serve himself up to -me, and, when I had no more than opened my mouth, -was already at my ribs.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo, on the further side, laughed loud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is always the same here,' grumbled the Fool. -'They will have our stings drawn like snakes' before they -will sport with us. They love not in this Italy the joke -which tells against themselves—of that a poor motley must -ware. It muzzles him, muzzles him—drives the poison -down and in; and you wonder at the bile in my face!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He fell back, having uttered his snarl, with politic -suddenness, and posted to the rear of the litter. The -moment he was away, Bembo turned upon his host with -a kindling look of affection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am glad to have thee alone one moment,' said he. -'O Carlo, dear! the base bright metal so to seduce thine -eyes. Are they not opened?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now the tale of madam's discomfiture at her amoroso's -hands the night before had not been long in reaching -the boy's ears. She had not deigned, equally in -confessing her predilections as her shame, to utter them out -of the common hearing. Modesty in intrigue was a -paradox; and, in any case, one could undress without -emotion in the presence of one's dogs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Cicada, putting two and two together, had gathered -the whole story, and given this spiritual bantling of his -a hint as to his wise policy thereon, scarce a sentence of -which had he uttered before he was casting down his -eyes and mumbling inarticulate under the piercing gaze -of an honesty which would have been even less effective -had it spoken. Then had he slunk away, blessing all -beatitudes whose innocence entailed such responsibilities -on their worshippers; and, as a result, here was Master -Truth taking his own course with the problem.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Messer Lanti's eyes opened indeed to hear truth so -fearless; but he made an acrid face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'On my soul!' he muttered, glistening, and stopped, -and his brow was shadowed a moment under a devil's -wing. Then suddenly, with an oath, he clapped spurs to -his horse, and galloped a furlong, and, circling, came back -at a trot, and falling again alongside, put a quite gentle -hand on the boy's bridle arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dear, pretty Messer Truth,' said he, 'I pray you, on -my sincerity, turn your horse's head. Whither, think -you, are you making?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, for heaven, I hope, Carlo,' said the boy with a -smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Milan is not the gate to it,' answered the rough voice, -quite entreatingly. 'Go back, I advise you. You will -break your heart on the stones. Why, look here: dost -think I am so concerned to have this intrigue proved the -common stuff of passion? I care not the feather in thy -cap, Bernardino. Nay, I am the better for it, sith it -opens the way to a change. And so with ten thousand -others. There is the measure of your task. Now, will -you go back?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, by my faith!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lanti growled, and grunted, and smacked his thigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then I cannot help thee: and yet I will help thee. -Saint Ambrose! To remodel the world to goodwill, -statecraft and all, on the lisp of a red mouth! Wilt be -the fashion for just a year and a day, shouldering us, -every one, poor gallants, to the wall? Why should I love -thee for that? and I love thee nevertheless. There thou -goest in a silken doublet, to whip all hell with a -lute-string; and I—I had shown less temerity horsed and -armoured, and with a whole roaring crusade at my back.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo smiled very kindly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Christ's love was all </span><em class="italics">His</em><span> sword and buckler,' said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And He was crucified,' said Carlo grimly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And died a virgin,' answered the boy, 'that He might -make for ever chaste Love His heir.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well,' grumbled Lanti, 'there reigns an impostor these -fourteen hundred years or so in His place, that's all. I -hope the right heir may prove his title. 'Tis a long -tenure to dispossess. Methinks men have forgotten.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, they have forgotten,' said the boy; and he began -to sing so sweetly as he rode, that the other, after a grunt -or two, sunk into a mere grudging rapture of listening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the meantime, sombre and taciturn, the Fool rode -in the rear. Before him hulked the great shoulders, -stoppered with the little round head, of Narcisso, the -groom who led Madonna's palfrey. Cicada, regarding -this beauty, snarled out a laugh to himself. 'Sure -never,' he thought, 'was parental fondness worse -bestowed than in nicknaming such a satyr.' The -creature's small, bony jaw, like a pike's, underhung, -black-tufted, viciousness incarnate; his pursed, -overlapping brow, with the dirty specks of eyes set fixedly in -the under-hollows—in all, the mean smallness of his -features, contrasted with the slouching, fleshly bulk below, -suggested one of those antediluvian monsters, whose -huge bodies and little mouths and throttles give one a -sense of disproportion that is almost like an indecency. -Nevertheless, Narcisso was madam's chosen attendant at -her curtain side, where occasionally Cicada would detect -some movement, or the shadow of one, which convinced -him that the two were in stealthy communication. -Indeed, he had posted himself where he was, with no -other purpose than to watch for such a sign.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once he saw the hem of the curtain lift ever so slightly, -and Narcisso at the same instant respond, with a secret -movement of his hand, towards the place. Something -glittered momentarily, and was extinguished. Cicada -stretched himself in his saddle, and began to whistle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently he pushed ahead once more and joined his -master. Opening with some jest, he led him away, and -they fell into an amble together. Afterwards it was -apparent to some of Messer Lanti's following that, as -the morning advanced, their lord's brow darkened from -its early rude frankness, and began to exhibit certain -tokens of a wakening devil with which they had plenty -of reason to be familiar. Perhaps he wanted his dinner. -Perhaps the near-approaching termination of his summer -idyll—for they were long now in the great Lombardy -plain, and the towers of Milan were growing, low and -small, out of the horizon—was depressing him. Anyhow, -his first condescension was all gone by noon, when they -halted, a league short of the city, to rest and dine at the -'Angel and Tower,' a prosperous inn of the suburbs set -among mellowing vineyards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of all the company Bernardo was perhaps the only -one unconscious of the threatening atmosphere. Wonderful -thoughts were kindling in him at the near prospect -of this, the goal to all his hopes and ambitions. Milan! -It was Milan at last—the capital of his promised estate -of love. Blue and small, swimming far away in the sun -mists of the plains, he felt that he could clasp it all in his -arms, and carry it to the foot of the Throne. His eyes -brightened with clear tears: this salvage of the dark, -dead ages reclaimed to God! '</span><em class="italics">Domine!</em><span>' he exclaimed -in ecstasy, clasping his hands: '</span><em class="italics">Emitte lucem tuam et -veritatem tuam</em><span>! O Lord, touch mine eyes, that they -may penetrate even where Thy light shineth like a -glow-worm in deep mosses!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo roughly shouted him to their meal. His heart -was throbbing with an emotional rapture as he obeyed. -The table was served in a trellised alley, under hanging -stalactites of grapes. Beatrice flagged on a bench at the -end of the board, her shoulders sunk into a bower all -crushed of sunshine and green shadows. It was the -vine-goddess come home, soft, sensual, making a lust of -fatigue. Her lids were half-closed; her teeth showed in -a small, indolent smile; light, reflected from the purple -clusters, slept on the warm ivory of her skin. Bernardo, -coming opposite her, stood transfixed before a vision of -such utter animal loveliness. His breath seemed to -mount quicker as he gazed. Carlo drummed on the -board, where he sat hunched over it. Looking from one -to the other, he puffed out a little ironic laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wonderest what is passing there, boy?' said he. -'Wilt never know. Not a hair would she turn though, -like Althea, she were to find herself in child with a -firebrand.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bernardo lowered his eyes with a blush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' said he, 'my thoughts of Madonna were more -tempered. I coveted only her beauty for heaven.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Anon, Messer, anon!' cried the other banteringly: -'be not so free with my property. I hold her yet about -the waist, seest, with a silver fetter? If there be a prior -claim to mine——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, Chastity's,' put in the boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lanti hooted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tempt her, if thou wilt, with such a suitor. She will -follow him as she would the hangman. Wilt throw off -thy belt, Beatrice? I gave a thousand scudi for it. See -what Chastity here will offer thee in its room.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will answer, if I may examine it,' said Bembo -gravely. 'Will you tell her to unclasp it, Carlo, and let -me look? I see it is all hinged of antique coins. There -was a Father at San Zeno collected such things.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What, ladies' girdles!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now, Carlo! you know I mean the coins. Methinks -I recognise a text in one of them.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beatrice shrugged her shoulders, with a little yawn -expressive of intolerable boredom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well,' quoth Lanti impatiently, 'let him see it, you -and he shall parable us for grace to meat, while these -laggard dogs'—he looked over his shoulder, growling for -his dinner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beatrice unclasped the cincture without a word, and -flung it indifferently across the table. She had lain as -impassive throughout her own discussing by the others -as a slave being negotiated in a market. Not a tremor -of her eyelids had acknowledged either her lord's -rudeness or Bembo's provisional compliment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy took up the belt and examined it. He was -conscious of a sweet perfume that had come into his -hands with the trinket. His lips were parted a little, -his cheeks flushed. Presently he put it down softly, and -looked across at Beatrice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is what I thought,' said he—'the coin, I mean—a -denarius of Tiberius, in the thirty-first year of Our Lord -Shall I tell you what it says to me, Madonna?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not take the trouble to answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes,' roared Carlo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo slung his lute to the front, and began coaxing -forth one of those odd, shy accompaniments of his, into -which, a moment later, his voice melted:—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'When Tiberius was Emperor,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For thirty silver pieces bearing his image</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Did Judas betray his Lord;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then, himself betrayed to blood-guilt, cast them ringing</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On the flags of the Temple, and maddened forth and died.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the Jew elders eyed askance</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The sleek, round coins, accurst and yet no whit</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Depreciated as currency,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And ogling them and each other, were silent, till one spoke:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Ill come; well sped. We need a place to bury the dead.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Let the Potter take these, and in return</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Change us his field, o'er which we long have haggled.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So shall this outlay bring us two-fold profit,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yet leave us conscience-clean before the Lord."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Thus, gentles dear, was bought "The Field of Blood";</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And thus the wicked, damned price returned</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Into the veins of traffic, there to circulate</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And poison where it ran.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>One piece found Hope, and changed was for Despair;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And Charity one led to hoard for self;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And one reached Faith, and Faith became a whore.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But, most of all, what had betrayed Love sore,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Sweet Love was used to betray for evermore.'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>His voice broke on a long-drawn wailing chord. A -little silence succeeded. Then, like one spent, he took -up the belt and offered it to Beatrice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O Madonna!' he said, 'it is a denarius of the Cæsar -that betrayed Love. Take back thy wages.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She dragged down a spray of vine-leaves, and fanned -herself furiously with it, making no other response.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So! I am Judas!' cried Carlo; and began to bite his -moustache, mouthing and glowering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Love!' he sputtered, 'love! Is there no love in -nature? You talk of the human God, you——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beatrice broke in scornfully:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is the world-wisdom of the monastery. He shall -sing you love only by the Litany. His queen shall be a -virgin immaculate, and her bosom a shrine for the white -lambs of chastity to fold in. A fine proselyte for -passion's understanding! I would not be so converted for -all Palestine.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo laughed, with some fierce recovery to good-humour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hearest her, Bernardo? Thou shalt not prevail -there, unless by convincing that thou speak'st from -experience.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo had sunk down upon the bench, where, resting -languidly, he still fingered the strings of his lute. Now -suddenly, steadfastly, he looked across at the girl, and -began to sing again:—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'Love kept me an hour</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From all hours that pass;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In her breast, like a flower,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She stored it, sweet, fragrant,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of all time the vagrant,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Alas, and alas!</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Of all time the flower,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of all hours that pass,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For me was that hour,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When I cared claim it,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And kiss it and shame it,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Alas, and alas!</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>I dared not, sweet hour—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I let thee go pass;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And heaven is my dower.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>My crown is stars seven:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I am a saint in heaven,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Alas, and alas!'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>He never took his eyes, while he sang, off the wondering -face opposite him. It was strangely transformed by -the end—flesh startled out of ivory—the face of a -wakened Galatea. Narcisso coming at the moment to -place the first dishes of the meal before the company, she -sat up, her hands to her bosom, with a quick, agitated -movement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is well,' she said. 'I am thy convert, saint in -heaven!' She lifted the dish before her, and held it out -with a nervous smile. 'Let us exchange pledges, by the -token. Give me thy meat, and take mine.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo, watching and listening, knitted his brow in a -sudden frown, and his hand stole down to his belt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Give me thy dish,' said Beatrice, almost with -entreaty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bernardo laughed. With the finish of his madrigal he -had pushed his lute, in a hurry of pink shame, to his -shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, Madonna,' he protested. 'Like the simplest -doctor, I but spoke my qualifications. Feeling is -half-way to curing, and the best recommended physician is -he who hath practised on himself. I ask no reward but -thy forbearance.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Give it me,' she still said. She was on her feet. She -kissed the rim of the dish. 'Wilt thou refuse now? -Bid him to, Carlo.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not I,' said Lanti. 'Hath not, no more than myself, -been whipped into the classics for nothing? </span><em class="italics">Quod ali -cibus est aliis fuat acre venenum</em><span>. We know what that -means, he and I.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She seemed to turn very pale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' said Bernardo, jumping up, 'if Madonna -condescends?' and the exchange was made, and the men -fell to.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a moment or two Lanti looked up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What ails thee, Beatrice?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am not hungry.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The word had scarcely left her lips before, leaping to -his feet, and sprawling across the table, he had snatched -the untasted dish from under her hands, turned, and -dashed it with its contents full in the face of Narcisso, -who waited, with others, behind. Fouled, bleeding, -half-stunned, the man crashed down in a heap, and in -the same instant his master was upon him, poniard in -hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Confess, wretch, before I kill thee!' he roared. 'It -was meant for my guest! Thou wouldst have poisoned -him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mercy!' shrieked the creature, through his filthy -mask. 'O lord, mercy!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl, risen in her place, stood panting as if she had -been running. She had voice no more than to gasp -across, 'Bernardo! For the love of God! Bernardo!' -and that was all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No mercy, beast!' thundered Carlo. 'Down with thee -to hell unshriven!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His strenuous lifted arm was caught in a baby grasp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Carlo! forbear! The right is mine! Give me the -knife! Nay, I am the stronger!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the blood-lust halted in him for one moment, the -powerful creature turned upon his puny assailant with a -roar:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The stronger! Thou!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless he rose, though he held the reptile -crushed under his foot, while the company, landlord and -all, stood huddled aghast. His breast was heaving like -the pulse of a volcano.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The knife!' he gurgled hoarsely; 'well, the right is -thine, as thou sayest. Take it—under with thee, -dog!—and drive in.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo seized and flung the dagger into the thick of -the vines; then threw himself on his knees, and, with all -his strength, tore the heavy foot from its victim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Narcisso,' he said, 'is it true? wouldst have slain -Love! Ah, fool, not to know that Love is immortal!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now, Christ in heaven,' roared Carlo, 'if that shall -save him!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bernardo rose, and sprang, and cast himself upon his -breast, writhing his limbs about him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Fly!' he shrieked, 'fly! while I hold him!' Then to -Lanti: 'Ah, dear, do not hurt me, who owe thee so much!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fallen scoundrel was quick to the opportunity. -He rose and fled, bloody and bemired, from the arbour. -Madonna, seeing him escape, sunk, with a fainting sigh, -upon her bench.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo mouthed after his vanishing prey; yet he was -tender with his burden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Love!' he groaned: 'Thou ow'st me? Not this—so -damned to folly! There, let go. He was but the -tool—and, for the rest——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He glowered round.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hush!' said Bembo. 'It is but the fruits of her -teaching. Blame not thy pupil, Carlo.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">My</em><span> pupil!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is she Christ's—or art thou? Love gives life, Carlo; -and all life is God's, since Christ redeemed it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What then?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, is not thine honour thy life?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I would die at least to prove it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas! and thou hast dishonoured love, which is life, -which is God's. Wouldst eat thy cake and have it, great -schoolboy?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Pish! Art beyond me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, if love is life, and life is honour—ergo, love is -honour.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is it? I dare say.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But thou must know it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I know nothing but that thou hast balked my -vengeance; and with that, and having exercised thy jaw, -let us go back to dinner.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">Domine, emitte tuam lucem!</em><span>' sighed Bembo.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-iv"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Galeazzo Maria Sforza, third Duke of -Milan of his line, was very characteristically -engaged in a very characteristic room of his resplendent -castello of the Porta Giovia, which dominated the whole -city from the north-east. This room, buried like a -captivating lust in the heart of the Rocca, or inner -citadel of the castello, swarmed with those deft -procurers to the great, panders between Art and emotion, -who are satisfied, by contributing, each his share, to the -glorification of a sensual despotism, to partake a -rediffused flavour of its sum. They were poets, painters, -and musicians, sculptors and learned doctors, and every -one, despite his independent calling, a sycophant. Before -the power, central and paramount, which alone in their -particular orbit could amass within itself the total of -their lesser lights, they prostrated themselves as before a -God. It is so in all ages of man. He will contribute, of -choice, to the prosperous charity; he will lay his gifts at -the opulent shrine. The worldling, says Shakespeare, -makes his testament of more to much. '</span><em class="italics">Ah! c'est le plus -grand roi du monde!</em><span>' once cried Madame de Sévigné of -Louis XIV., who had danced with her. 'He is the finest -gentleman I have ever seen!' cried Johnson enthusiastically -at a later date, after an interview with Farmer -George; and though—perhaps because—the stout old -Colossus was as independent as reason itself, he spoke -the general moral. Professors were here, too, who did -not blush to proclaim the exalted scion of Condottieri, -the blood-lusting monster, the infernal atavism of Caligula, -for the first gentleman in Italy, or to prostitute their -erudition in his service.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Madonna Beatrice who had drawn that analogy, -and there was plenty of justification for it; as also, it -must be said, plenty of more immediate precedent for -the abominations of this Galeazzo. If, like the -grand-matricidal Roman, he had poisoned his mother, the -Visconti, his predecessors, with their atrocious -blood-profanations and exaltations of bastardy, were responsible -for the conditions which had made so dreadful an act -conceivable. If, emulating Caligula's treatment of frail -vestals, he had buried alive some too-accommodating -virgin of the cloister, whom he had first debauched, he -could quote the Visconti precedent of carnality indulged -till it became a very ecstasy of fiend-possession. Between -old Rome and modern Milan, indeed, there was little to -prefer. Caligula used to throw spectators in the theatres -to the beasts, having first torn out the tongues of his -victims, lest his ears should be offended by their articulate -appeals. Bernabo Visconti and his brother, with whom -he shared the duchy, agreed upon an edict subjecting -State criminals to a scale of tortures which was calculated -to culminate in death in not less than forty days. -Giovanni Maria and Filippo Maria, last of the accursed race, -organised man-hunts in the streets of their capitals, and -fed their hounds on human flesh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To starve his victims to death, and, when they complained -(it was an age of practical jokes), to stuff their -mouths with filth, was a pet sport with Galeazzo. Once, -for a wretch who had killed a hare, a crime unpardonable, -he procured a death of laughable, unspeakable torment -by forcing him to devour the animal, bones and fur and all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is enough. They were all madmen, in fact, moral -abortions of that 'breeding-in' of demi-gods which sows -the world with chimeras. It is not good for any man to -be subject to no government but his own, and least of all -when a vicious heredity has imposed a sickness on his -reason. Blood affinities on the near side of incest, power -unquestioned, unbridled self-indulgences—these are no -progenitors of temperance and liberality. Amongst -savages, generations of inter-marryings will but refine -exquisitely on savagery; and the despots of this era -were little more than the last expressions of a decadent -barbarism. Galeazzo, and such as Galeazzo, were, it is -true, to project the long shadows of their lusts and -cruelties over the times forthcoming; yet it is as certain -that with him the limits of the worst were reached, and -hereafter peoples and rulers were to grow to some -common accord of participation in the enlightenments of -their ages.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One might have fancied in him, in his apparent reachings -to foreclose on such a state, to appropriate to himself -not its moral but its material accessories, some uneasy -premonition of the truth. He stood on the line of -partition, his sympathies with the past, his greed for the -opulent future, and, hesitating, was presently to drop -between. That paradox of the lusts of savagery and the -lusts of intellect hobnobbing in the individual, which -characterised so many of his contemporaries, cried aloud -in him. He was superstitious and a sceptic. Like -Malatesta of Rimini—who could enshrine beneath the -shadow of one glorious church the bones of a favourite -mistress and those of an admired heathen philosopher -which he had brought expressly from Greece for the -purpose—he would make a compromise between -Paganism and Christianity. He worshipped God and the -devil, as if his arrogance halted at nothing short of -reconciling two equal but antagonistic powers. He -surrounded himself with monks and infidels; acclaimed -impartially an illuminated psalter or a painting for a -bagnio, a Roman canticle or a hymn to the Paphian -Venus; sobbed in the soft throbbings of a lute, and went -sobbing to witness a captive's torturing; conceived -himself an enlightened patron of the arts, and, in a mad -caprice, ordered his craftsmen, under penalty of instant -death, to paint and hang with portraits of the ducal -family in a single night a hall of the castello. He groped -and grovelled in bestiality; founded a library and peopled -a university with erudition; encouraged profligacy and -printing; was covetous and lavish, and splendid as the -clusters of diamonds on a Jewess's unclean fingers. -His palaces swarmed with cutthroats and physicians, -philosophers and empirics, pimps and theologians, -heaven-commissioned artists and pope-commissioned agents for -indulgences, who would sell one absolution beforehand -for the foulest excesses in lust or violence. His crowded -halls were the very stage of the ante-renaissance, where -the priest, the poisoner, the romantic hero and the sordid -villain, the flaunting doxy and the white dove of innocence, -rubbed shoulders with the scene-painter and conductor -in a disordered rehearsal of the melodrama to come. -And so we alight on him in this Rocca, sinister and -lonely, the protagonist of the piece to which he was in a -little to supply the most tragic dénouement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He lay sunk back in pillows on a couch set in an -alcove high and apart. One long, jewelled hand caressed -the head of a boarhound. Judged by the swift code of -his times, he was already mature, a sage of thirty-one. -His eyes were small and deep-seated under gloomy -thatches, his forehead narrow and receding, his cheeks -ravenous, his nose was hooked. But in contrast with -this pinched hunger of feature were the bagging chin -and sensual neck, as well as the grossness of the body, -which attenuated into feeble legs. One could not look -on him and gather from crown to foot the assurance of -a single generous youthful impulse. The curse of an -inherited despotism had wrinkled him from his birth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An effeminate luxury, which was presently to make -Milan a byword among the austerer principalities, spoke -in his dress. His short-skirted tunic, puff-shouldered, -and pinched and pleated at the waist within a -gem-encrusted girdle, was of Damascene silk, rose-coloured -and lined with costliest fur. His hose were of white -satin; his slippers, of crimson velvet, sparkled with -rosettes of diamonds and rubies. On his head he wore -a cap of maintenance, also of red velvet, and sewn with -pearls; and a short jewelled dagger hung at his waist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By his side, a very foil to his magnificence, stood one -in a sad-coloured cloak. This was Lascaris, a Greek -professor, whom he had invited to Milan for his learning, -and used, like Pharaoh, to expound him his dreams. -For he was subject to evil dreams, was this -Galeazzo—hauntings and visions which wrought in him that state -that he would become a very madman if so little as the -shadow of an opposition crossed his imagination. And -even now such a mood was working in him, as he lounged -darkly conning the life of the hall from his eyrie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That was a deep, semi-domed alcove, approached from -the main chamber by a short avenue of square-sided -pillars, and roofed with a mosaic of ultramarine and gold, -into which were wrought the arms of the Sforzas and -Viscontis, the lilies of France and the red cross of Savoy. -Entablatures of white marble carved into bas-reliefs filled -the inter-columniations of this approach; while the pillars -themselves, of dark green panels inlaid on white, were -sprayed and flowered with exquisite mouldings in gold. -The capitals, blossoming crowns of gilt foliage and marble -faces, supported a white cornice, which at the alcove's -mouth ran down into twin fluted shafts, between which -rose a shallow flight of steps to a sort of dais or shrine -within. And thence, from a carved marble bench, -Galeazzo looked down on the soft surging motley of -the throng in the hall below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every sound there was instinctively subdued to the -occasion: the laughter of girls, the thrum of lutes, the -ring of steel and rustle of silk. Not so much as a -misdirected glance, even, would venture to appropriate to -the company's cynic merriment the figure of a solitary -captive, who stood bound and guarded at the foot of the -dais. Yet it was plain that this captive felt the enforced -forbearance, and mocked it with a bitterer cynicism than -its own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was a small, ill-formed, harsh-featured man, very -soberly dressed, and with a cropped head—a feature -sufficiently disdainful of the bushed and elaborately waved -locks of those by whom he was surrounded. Lean-throated -and short-sighted, his face was a face to scorn -falsehood without loving truth, a face the mouthpiece of -dead languages for dead languages' sake, a face the -contemner of the present just because it was the present -and alive. As he stood, loweringly phlegmatic as any -caged hate, his peering eyes and snarling lip would -occasionally lift themselves together, not towards the -glittering lord of destinies on the dais, but towards his -henchman, the Greek, who would answer the challenge -with a stare of serene and opulent contempt. And so a -long interval of silence held them opposed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly the Duke stirred from his black reverie, his -lips sputtering little inarticulate blasphemies. His knee -peevishly dismissing the hound, he gripped an arm of -the bench, and turning gloomily on Lascaris, uttered -the one impatient word, 'Well?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Greek, temporising for the moment, inclined his -smooth, black-bearded face, so that the oily essence on -his hair, which was foppishly crimped and snooded, was -wafted to the Sforza nostrils, offending their delicacy. -Galeazzo, momentarily repelled, rallied to a harsher -frown, and demanded: 'The fruit, man, the fruit of all -this meditation? Jesu! it should be rotten-ripe by -its smell!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lascaris expanded his chest, unoffended, and, caressing -his beard, answered impassively:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou questionest of this vision, Theosutos? I -answer, How many changes can be rung on a carillon -of eight bells? By such measure shalt thou imagine, -an thou canst, the changes possible to the myriad of -particles that go to the composition of a single human -eye. Now, in the unthinkable dispersements and -readjustments of Infinity, shall it not sometimes happen -that two particles, or two thousand particles, or two -billion particles, out of the sum of particles which were -that eye, shall chance together again, and recover, -because of that meeting, some very ancient, very remote -impression which they once absorbed in common? -These, Theosutos, be the ghosts, haphazard, indefinable, -visible to one and unseen of all the rest, which make -the solitary seer; these be the lonely hauntings of the -ages—dust blown over desolate places, to commingle -a moment at some cross roads, and weave a phantom -wreath of memory, and so again be cast and scattered -among the cycles. Thy vision is but a shadow of old -dead years.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An ill-repressed stutter of laughter from the prisoner -at the foot of the steps greeted the finish of this -exegesis. Lascaris flushed scarcely perceptibly. The -Duke took no more notice of man or sound than he -would have of a whimpering dog. Once or twice he -stammered an oath, gnawing his finger, and frowning -up, and down, and up again at the Greek. Finally he -broke out, in a fury:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now, by the Host, thou consolest me—now, by the -Host! To reconcile to this spectre by arguing it -perpetual! To——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grinding his teeth, he clipped his long fingers on the -bench arm, as if he were about to spring. Lascaris -forestalled him with a placid word:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not perpetual. The mood invokes these shadows, -as the mood shall lay them.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Galeazzo snarled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The mood! What mood, fool? You shift and shift. -God! it will be the mood of the mood next. Hast thou -no master-key to all? Go to, then!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sank back into his cushions, glooming and panting. -The sleek olive mask of the face near him yielded no -sign of perturbation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gradually a very deadly expression came to usurp in -the Duke's eyes that blinder madness of desperation. -An indolent smile relaxed his features. He yawned, -it was because, the soul horror being temporarily -withdrawn, the incontinent devil was supplanting in him -the tempestuous one. He rolled lazily about, addressing -his creature once more:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You doctors—all the same! Big words to little cures. -Treat a State's constitution or a man's—'tis the word's the -thing. Ye woo not the truth, but her raiment. Hear'st -me? I had a tutor once, a crabbed fellow called Montano.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He yawned again. The prisoner below (Cola Montano -himself) gasped slightly, and shot one stealthy glance -his way. Lascaris sniggered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Surely, lord,' he said, 'we need no reminding while -the man himself keeps his tongue.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A half-suppressed snarl broke from the prisoner. -Galeazzo, hunched on his cushions, stared vacantly -before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah!' he said, 'he could talk. I remember him, a -midwife to the wind—as ye all be—as ye all be. What -of the fellow?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lascaris wondered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Little, in truth, Magnificence, save in so far as your -Magnificence was pleased to introduce his name.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Did I? I had forgot. What was the connection? -Empty words, was it not, and vainglory and presumption?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And discontent. Add it thereto, Illustrious.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Discontent? Of what? The man prospers, I understand, -on his school of all the virtues. Discontent? -Why, hath he not risen to that independence of power -that he dares lampoon his prince? Discontent?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Like Alexander, thou standest in his light, Theosutos.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Discontent?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, that he should be twitted with having schooled -a despot.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, true; he taught me how to score a lesson with -a scourge. My shoulders could tell.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Gods! did he dare?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He dared. 'Twas a fellow of Roman mettle.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He would dare more now.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A republic, so they say.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah! he should be the man for visions—a seer, an -exorcist.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Short-sighted for a seer, Illustrious. The man -cannot see the length of his own nose.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yet may he see far. I would he were here.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The prisoner, wrought at last beyond self-control, -turned on the Greek and squirted a little shriek of -venom—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yet through and through thee, thou loathsome, -envious pimp!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he whipped upon the other—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And why not a republic, Galeazzo? Thy father -Francesco was a republican at heart, else had he never -given his son's leading-strings into my hands. There -was a confederacy dreamed of in his day—Genoa, Milan, -and Venice; Florence, Sienna, and Bologna. One -rampart to the rolling Alps, one wall on which barbarian -hordes might burst and waste themselves in foam. -Northwards, a baffled sea; south, all Italy a tranquil -haven, a watered garden, where knowledge with all its -flowers should find space, and breathing-space to grow. -Dost thou love Italy? Then why not a republic, -Galeazzo?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke, as utterly impassive as if he were deaf, -turned musingly to Lascaris.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I heard one talk once,' said he, 'of a confederacy of -republics, as who should say, An army all serfs. Words! -The tails must obey the heads. Every ox knows it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Saving the frog-ox,' giggled the Greek, 'who bursts -himself in emulation.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah!' murmured the Duke, 'the frog-ox: see us tickle -his self-puffery.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He feigned to catch sight all at once of Montano. -His eyes opened wide in astonishment: he held out his -hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What!' he cried, 'the man of visions! the very man! -Come hither, old friend. I was but now speaking of thee.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His guards permitting him, Montano sullenly mounted -the steps, and stood facing the tyrant. His arms hung -very plainly fettered before him; but the other never -took his languid, smiling eyes from his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Galeazzo,' said the scholar, harsh and quick, 'I did -not write the epigrams; but no matter. You seek to -make an example; I submit myself. It is the despot's -part to lay hands on order and sobriety. Despatch, -then. Thou wilt serve my ends better than thine own. -Every blow to freedom is a link gone from thy mail.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke listened to him as if in bland wonder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Epigrams! An example!' he exclaimed. 'O, surely -there is some mistake here.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thick brows of the prisoner contracted over his -leaden eyes. He set his teeth, breathing between them. -Galeazzo appealed to Lascaris:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Know'st aught of this?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Greek shook his head ineffably, licking his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No,' said Galeazzo, 'nor is it conceivable that my -old friend and reprover should condescend to that -meaner scourge. Jesu! for one of his learning and -condition to incur the fate of the common lampooner. -Why, I mind me how one was invited to a ragout minced -of his own tongue.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, Illustrious.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And another to having his couplets scored in steel -on the soles of his feet.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, Illustrious.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And yet another to boiling eggs under his arm-pits, -since he was clever at hatching those winged epigrams'—he -turned smoothly again to the tutor—'but not clever, -as thou art, at reforming constitutions.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He fell back, with a sleek and hateful smile; then, -sighing suddenly, advanced his body again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am troubled, Montano, I am troubled, and, since -you chance to be here——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He yielded the explanation to Lascaris.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I weary of relating. Tell him of my symptoms, -thou'—and he sunk once more into his cushions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Greek diagnosed, his shifty eyes refusing to -encounter the hard inquisition of the other's:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'His Magnificence is of late ever conscious of a face -behind him, mournful and threatening. And still, if -he turns to challenge it, it is behind him; and still -behind, maddening him with a thought of something he -can never overtake.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Galeazzo fixed his burning eyes on the prisoner, as -if, through all his mockery, the hunger of a hopeless -hope betrayed his soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Canst </span><em class="italics">thou</em><span> strike it away,' he whispered hoarsely, -'or at least tell me what it is?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Montano growled:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ghosts, and dead years, and eye-particles! This -trash of pseudo-science—a saltimbanco braying in a -doctor's skin! Less licence, Galeazzo, and more -exercise—'tis all contained in that. This vision is but a -swimming blot of bile.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was really half-deceived, half-convinced. The -Duke seemed to listen reassured, then slowly rose, -and, with an ingratiatory smile, patted his erst tutor's -shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Old honest friend,' he said, 'and ever true to the -Roman in thee! Thou hast spoken as one might expect. -Bile, is it—bile? and little wonder in this upset of -constitutions. Ebbene! we will take instant means to throw -it off.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He made a sign to the chief of the guard below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Andrea!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lascaris slunk back with a little gloating smile. The -officer brought up his men about Montano. The Duke -murmured softly:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Take good Messer Cola, and—' he paused a little, -gazing winningly into his captive's surprised, splenetic -face—'and have him soundly flogged before the -gate-house—to the bone, Andrea, tell Messer Jacopo.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before the luring treachery of this stroke the prisoner -stood for one moment shocked, aghast. The next, as -the guard seized him, he broke into a storm of vituperations -and blasphemies, calling upon all the gods of Rome -to protect him from a monster. Andrea crushed his -mailed hand down on his writhing lips; he was dragged -away struggling and screaming. As he disappeared -Galeazzo descended mincingly to the hall, bent on -pursuing the show. A cloud of courtiers, male and female -flocked, like rooks following a plough, in his wake. As -he left the citadel and was crossing the outer ward, two -ladies—one a young woman in her late twenties; the -other a slim, pale girl of thirteen—broke from a group -of attendants, and came, wreathed in one embrace, to -accost him. The elder, looking in his face with a certain -questioning anxiety, spoke him with a propitiatory smile -and sigh:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Galeazino, O thou little sweetest burden on my heart!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The endearment was really an inquiry, a warning; for -there was a foreboding madness in his eyes. He made -as if he would have struck her from his path. Her child -companion caught his wrist with a merry cry:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My little father, whither sportest thou without thy -women?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He changed the direction of his hand and flipped the -younger's cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Come, then, chuck,' said he. 'There is a frolic toward -that will speed an idle hour.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She caught up her skirts and followed him, as did the -other, but less closely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gatehouse commanded from its battlements an -open panorama of the town as far as the piazza of the -duomo. Immediately to its front, in a bare extended -space, stood the whipping-post, a stout beam set on end -on a stage and furnished with hooks and chains. Already -on the ground beside this (by preconcerted arrangement -indeed) was a certain functionary, much respected of -Milan. This was Messer Jacopo, the high court -executioner—one, by virtue of his dealings in blood, almost on -an equality with the master herald himself. Immobile -and voiceless, he stood there like a model in an armoury. -A short shirt of mail, and over it a scarlet jerkin with a -plain dagger at the waist; hose of sober grey; a bonnet -and shoes of black velvet, the first adorned with a red -quill, the second with red rosettes; gorget and steel -gauntlets—such was the whole of Messer Jacopo, save -for the wooden, inessential detail of his face and its fixed -eyes of glass. There was something painfully human, -by contrast, in his understrappers, two or three of whom -stood at hand in leathern aprons—men of a rich, moist -physique and greasy palms, and jocund, slaughter-house -expression. These were on bantering terms with the -mob, with all that loose raff of the neighbourhood, which -had come streaming and pushing and chattering to -witness the sport. It was not often that the rats of the -quarter Giovia had a master of philosophy to desert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had not long to wait. Almost simultaneously a -little surging group appeared at the gates, and a throng -of gay heads above the ramparts. The jostle and -delighted whisper went among the crowd. What -proportion would the scourging of a prince's tutor bear to -the punishment it avenged? It surely would not be -allowed to lose by procrastination. They craned their -necks to catch an early sight of the victim. One of the -assistants whipped experimentally through his fingers a -thick, cruel thong of bullock-hide. It clacked a dry -tongue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Be quiet, thirsty one,' he cried boisterously. 'In a -moment thou shalt drink thyself to a sop.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up on the ramparts the ladies, with bright, inquisitive -eyes, stood by their lord. The girl Catherine, petted -love-child of her father, hugged confidingly to his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Padre mio,' she said, 'how sweet the world looks from -here! I could fancy we were all Lazaruses, laughing -down on that wicked Dives!'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-v"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Messer Lanti and his party entered Milan, in -a very subdued mood, by the Gate of Saint Mark. -It had been with an emotion beyond words that Bembo -had found himself approaching the walls of this fair city -of his dreams. The prosperous contado, watered in every -direction by broad dykes; the clustering vines and saintly-hued -olive gardens; the busy peasantry; the richness of -the very wayside shrines, had all appeared to speak a -content and holiness with which the perverse passions of -men were at such bitter variance. The discrepancy -confounded, as it was presently upon a fuller experience to -inspire, him. Here in one land, incessantly jostling and -reacting on one another, were a devotional and a sensuous -fervour, both exhibiting a lust of beauty at fever-heat; -were a gross superstition and an excellent reason; -were a powerful priestcraft and a jeering scepticism—all -drawing from the forehead of a Papacy, which, -latterly pledged to the most unscrupulous temporal -self-aggrandisement, was reverenced for the vicarship -of a poor and celibate Christ. Issuing, equipped with -an artless conventual purpose, from the cool groves of -his cloister, he found a land dyed in blood and the -blue of heaven, festering under God's sun, and rejoicing -in the colour schemes of its sores. On what principle -could he study to sweeten this paradox of a constitution, -where health was enamoured of disease? '</span><em class="italics">Deus meus, in -te confido</em><span>,' he prayed, with hands clasped fervently upon -his breast; '</span><em class="italics">Non erubescam, neque irrideant me inimici -mei</em><span>! O Lord, give me the vision to find and show to -others a path through this beautiful wilderness!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the long walls of the town, broken at intervals into -turrets, broadened before him, violet against a deep, -cloudless sky, his ecstasy but increased—he held out his -arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O thou,' he murmured, 'that I have hungered for, -looking down on thee from the mountain of myrrh! -Until the day break and the shadows flee away!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A little later, in a deep angle of the enceinte, they -came upon a gruesome sight. This was no less than the -Montmartre of Milan—a great stone gallows with -dangling chains, and tenanted—faugh! A cloud of winged -creatures rose as they approached, and scattered, -dropping fragments. It was the common repast, stuff of -rogues and pilferers—nothing especial. The ground -was trodden underneath, and Bembo shrieked to see two -white, stiff feet sticking from it. Lanti followed the -direction of his hand, and exclaimed with a moody -shrug:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'An assassin, Saint—nothing more. We plant them -like that, head down.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alive?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O, of course!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo cried out: 'These are not sons of God, but of -Belial!' and passed on, with his head drooping. Carlo -turned to Beatrice, where she rode behind, and, without -a word, pointed significantly to the horrible vision. She -laughed, and went by unmoved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a little after they had all entered by the gate, and -the city was before them. Bembo, kindled against his -will, rose in his saddle and uttered an exclamation of -delight. Before his eyes was spread a white town with -blue water and upstanding cypresses—wedges of -midnight in midday. There were terraces and broad -flagged walks, and palaces and spacious loggias—fair -glooms of marble shaken in the spray of fountains. -From its cold, shadowless bridges to the heaped drift -of the duomo in its midst, there seemed no slur, but -those dark cypresses, on all its candid purity. It looked -like a city flushed under a veil of hoar frost, the glare of -its streets and markets and gardens subdued to one -softest harmony of opal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet in quick contrast with this chill, sweet austerity, -glowed the burning life of it. In the distance, like -travelling sparks in wood ashes; nearer, flashing from -roof or balcony in harlequin spots of light; nearest of -all, a very baggage-rout of figures, fantastic, -chameleonic, an endless mutation and interflowing of blues, -and crimsons, and purples—tirelessly that life circulated, -the hot arterial blood which gave their tender hue to -those encompassing veins of marble.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was on this drift of souls going by him, gay and -light, it seemed, as blown petals, that Bernardo gazed -with the most loving fondness. He pictured them all, -eager, passionate, ardent, moving about the business of -the Nature-God, propagating His Gospel of sweetness, -adapting to imperishable works the endlessly varying -arabesques of woods, and starry meadows, and running -clouds and waters—epitomising His System. He -admired these works, their beauty, their stability, their -triumphant achievement; though, in truth, his soul of -souls could conceive no achievement for man so ideal as -a world of glorious gardens and little abodes. But the -sun was once more in his heart, and heaven in his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The swallows stooped in the streets to welcome him: -'Hail, little priest of the cloistered hills!' The scent of -flowers offered itself the incense to his ritual; the -fountains leapt more merrily for his coming. 'Love! love!' -sang the birds under the great eaves; 'He will woo this -cruel world to harmlessness. Where men shall lead -with charity, all animals shall follow. The good fruits -ripen to be eaten; it is their love, their lust to be -consumed in joy. What lamb ever gave its throat to the -knife? The violet flowers the thicker the more its -blossoms are ravished. What new limb ever budded on -a maimed beast?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah! the secret,' sang Bembo's soul—'the secret, or the -secret grievance, of the cosmos will yield itself only to -love. Useless to try to wrench forth its confession by -torture. Let retaliation spell love, for once and for ever, -and to the infinite sorrows of life will appear at last their -returned Redeemer.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His heart was full as they rode by the narrow streets. -His eyes and ears were tranced with colour, the murmur -of happy voices, the clash of melodious bells. He could -not think of that late vision of horror but as a dream. -These blithe souls, in all their moods and worships such -true apostles of his gay, sweet God! They could not -love or practise harshness but as a deterrent from things -unnameable. The very absence of sightseers from that -pit of scowling death proved it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then, in a moment, they had debouched upon an -open place overlooked by a massive fortress, and in its -midst, the cynosure of hundreds of gloating eyes, was a -human thing under the flail—a voice moaning from the -midst of a red jelly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His heart sunk under a very avalanche. He uttered -a cry so loud as to attract the attention of the spectators -nearest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who is it? What hath he done?' he roared of one. -'Trampled on the Host? Defiled a virgin of the mother? -Murdered a priest?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The face puckered and grinned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Worse, Messer Cavalier. He once whipped the Duke -when his tutor.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo's whole little body braced itself to the spring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tutor!' he cried: 'is that, then, Cola Montano?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gross eye winked—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What is left of it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was answered with a leap and rush. The mob at -that point staggered, and bellowed, and fell away from -the hoofs of a furious assailant. Carlo, pre-admonished, -was already on the boy's flank. 'Stop, little lunatic!' -he shouted, sweating and spurring to intervene. He had -no concern for the feet he trampled or the ribs he bruised. -He stooped and snatched at the struggling horse's bridle. -'It is the Duke's vengeance!' he panted. 'See him there -above! Art mad?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A face, flushed as the face of Him who scourged the -hucksters from the temple, was turned upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Art thou? Strike for retaliation by love, or get -behind!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Know'st nothing of his deserts,' cried Carlo. 'Be -advised!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'By love,' cried the boy. 'He is worthy of it—a good -man—I carry a letter to him from my father. Fall back, -I say.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He drove in his heels, and the horse plunged and -started, tearing the rein from Lanti's grasp. It was true -that Bembo bore this letter, among others, in his pouch. -The Abbot of San Zeno was so long out of the world -as to have miscalculated the durations of court favour. -Cola had been an influence in </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Devil take him!' growled Carlo; but he followed, -scowling and slashing, in his wake. The mob, authorised -of its worst humour, took his truculence ill. That -reduced him to a very devilish sobriety. He began to -strike with an eye to details, 'blazing' his passage -through the throng. The method justified itself in the -opening out of a human lane, at the end of which he saw -Bembo spring upon the stage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The executioner was cutting deliberately, monotonously -on, and as monotonously the voice went moaning. -Messer Jacopo, standing at iron ease beside, took no -thought, it seemed, of anything—least of all of -interference with the Duke's will. It must have been, -therefore, no less than an amazing shock to that -functionary to find himself all in an instant stung and -staggered by a bolt from the blue. He may have been, -like some phlegmatic serpent, conscious of a hornet -winging his way; but that the insect should have had it -in its mind to pounce on </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He found himself and his voice in one metallic -clang:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Seize him, men!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo panted up, and Jacopo recognised him on the -moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Messer Lanti! Death of the Cross! Is this the -Duke's order?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Christ's, old fool!' gasped the cavalier. 'Touch him, -I say, and die. I neither know nor care.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His great chest was heaving; he whipped out his -sword, and stood glaring and at bay. Bembo had thrown -himself between the upraised thong and its quivering -victim. He, too, faced the stricken mob.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Christ is coming! Christ is coming!' he shrieked. -'Prepare ye all to answer to Him for this!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A dead silence fell. Some turned their faces in terror. -Here and there a woman cried out. In the midst, Messer -Jacopo raised his eyes to the battlements, and saw a -white hand lifted against the blue. He shrugged round -grumpily on his fellows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Unbind him,' he said; and the whip was lowered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The poor body sunk beside the post. Bembo knelt, -with a sob of pity, to whisper to it—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Courage, sad heart! He comes indeed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The livid and suffering face was twisted to view its -deliverer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Escape, then,' the blue lips muttered, 'while there is -time.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo cried out: 'O, thou mistakest who I mean!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The face dropped again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Never. Christ or Galeazzo—it is all one.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A hand was laid on the boy's shoulder. He looked up -to find himself captive to one of the Duke's guard. A -grim little troop, steel-bonneted and armed with -halberts, surrounded the stage. Messer Lanti, dismounted, -had already committed himself to the inevitable. He -addressed himself, with a laugh, to his friend:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Very well acquitted, little Saint,' said he—'of all but -the reckoning.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo lingered a moment, pointing down to the -bleeding and shattered body.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'And there passed by a certain priest,"' he cried, -'"and likewise a Levite; but a Samaritan had compassion -on him,"' and he bowed his head, and went down with -the soldiers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, because of his beauty, or of the fear or of the -pity he had wrought in some of his hearers, for whatever -reason a woman or two of the people was emboldened to -come and ask the healing of that wounded thing; and -they took it away, undeterred of the executioners, and -carried it to their quarters. And in the meanwhile, -Bembo and his comrade were brought before the Duke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Galeazzo had descended from the battlements, and sat -in a little room of the gatehouse, with only a few, -including his wife and child, to attend him. And his -brow was wrinkled, and the lust of fury, beyond -dissembling, in his veins. He took no notice of -Lanti—though generally well enough disposed to the bully—but -glared, even with some amazement in his rage, on the boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who art thou?' he thundered at length.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bernardo Bembo.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The clear voice was like the call of a bird's through -tempest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Whence comest thou?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'From San Zeno in the hills.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What seek'st thou here?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thy cure.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke started, and seemed actually to crouch for a -moment. Then, while all held their breath in fear, of -a sudden he fell back, and gripped a hand to his heart, -and muttered, staring: 'The face!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He closed his eyes, and passed a tremulous hand -across his brow before he looked again; and lo! when -he did so, the madness was past.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Child,' he said hoarsely, almost whispered, 'what -said'st thou? Come nearer: let me look at thee.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rose himself, with the word, stiffly, like an old man, -and stood before the boy, and gazing hungrily for a little -into the solemn eyes, dropped his own as if -abashed—half-blinded. In the background, Bona, his wife, and the -child Catherine clung together in a silence of fear and -wonder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, I am haunted!' shuddered the tyrant. 'Who -told thee that? It is a face, child, a face—there—in the -dead watches of the night—behind me—and by day, -always the same, a damned clinging bur on my soul—not -to be shaken off—always behind me!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave a little jerk and motion of repugnance, as if -he were trying to throw something off. Carlo struck in: -'Lord, let him sing to thee! I say no more.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The deep, gloomy eyes of the Duke were lifted one -instant to the strange seraph-gaze fixed silently upon -him; then, making an acquiescent motion with his hand, -he turned, and sat himself down again as if exhausted, -and hid his brow under his palm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now the boy, never looking away, slung forward his -lute, and like one that charms a serpent, began softly to -finger the strings. And Galeazzo's head, in very truth -like an adder's, swung to the rhythm; and as the chords -rose piercing, he clutched his brow, and as they melted -and sobbed away, so did he sink and moan. And then, -suddenly, into that wild symphony drew the voice, as a -spray of sweetbriar is drawn into a wheel; and all around -caught their breath to listen:—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'Two children, a boy and girl, were playing between wood and meadow.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They pledged their faith, each to the other, with rosy lips on lips,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He to protect, she to trust—always together for ever and ever.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A storm rose: the dragon of the thunder roared and hissed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Probing the earth with its keen tongue.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>How she cowered, the pretty, fearful thing!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yet adored her little love to see him dare</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That tree-cleaving monster with his sword of lath.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And in the end, because she trusted in her love, her love prevailed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And drove the roaring terror from the woods.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She never felt such faith, nor he such pride of virtue in his strength.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then shone out the rainbow,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he bethought him of the jewelled cup hid at its foot.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Stay here," quoth he, new boldened by his triumph,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"And I'll fetch it ye."</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But she cried to him: "Nay, leveling, take me too!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>We were to be aye together: O leave me not behind!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But he was already on his way.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And still, as he pursued, the rainbow fled before,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the voice of his playmate, faint and fainter, followed in his wake:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"O leave me not behind!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then grew he wild and desperate, clutching at that mirage,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>the unattainable,</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>The lustrous cup that was to bring him happiness in its possession.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the voice blew ghostly in his wake, mingling with rain and</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>the whirl of dead leaves:</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>"Leave me not behind!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But now the fire of unfulfilment seared his brain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And often he staggered in the slough,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or fell and cut himself on rocks.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And so, pushing on half-blindly,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Knew not at last from the dead rainbow the </span><em class="italics">ignis fatuus</em><span>,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The false witch-light that danced upon his path,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Leading him to destruction. Until, lo!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With a flash and laugh it was not,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he awoke to a mid-horror of darkness—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Night in the infernal swamps—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Blind, crawling, desolate; and for ever in his heart</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The weeping shadow of a voice, "O leave me not behind!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then at that, like one amazed, he turned,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And cried in agony: "Innocenza, my lost Innocence,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where art thou? O, little playmate, follow to my call!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And there answered him only from the gates of the sunset a</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>heart-broken sigh.'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>He ended to a deep silence, and, while all stood -stricken between tears and expectancy, moved to within -a pace of the Duke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O prince!' he cried, 'haunted of that Innocence! -Turn back, turn back, and find in thy lost playmate's -face the ghost that now eludes thee!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo gave a little gasp, and his hand shivered down to -his sword-hilt. He must die for his Saint, if provoked -to that martyrdom; but he would take a desperate -pledge or two of the sacrifice with him. One of the -women, the younger, watching him, knew what was in -his mind, and breathed a little scornfully. The other's -eyes were set in a sort of rapture upon the singer's face. -A minute may have passed, holding them all thus -suspended, when suddenly Galeazzo rose, and, throwing -himself at Bembo's feet, broke into a passion of sobs -and moans.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Margherita, my little playmate, that liest under the -daisies. O, I will be good, sweet—I will be good again -for thy sake.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-vi"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Many a head in the palace, though accustomed -witness of strange things, tossed on its pillow -that night in sleepless review of a scene which had been -as amazing in its singularity as it was potential in its -promise. What were to be the first-fruits of that -cataclysmic revulsion of feeling in a nature so habitually -frozen from all tenderness? If no more than a shy -snowdrop or two of reason, mercy, justice, pushing their -way up through a savage soil, the result would be marvel -enough. Yet there seemed somehow in the atmosphere -an earnest of that and better. The hearts of all trod on -tiptoe, fearful of waking their souls to disenchantment—agitated, -exultant; wooing them to convalescence from -an ancient sickness. The spring of a joyous hope was -rising voiceless somewhere in the thick of those drear -corridors. The f[oe]tid air, wafted through a healing -spray, came charged with an unwonted sweetness. -Whence had he risen, the lovely singing-boy, spirit of -change, harbinger of a new humanity? Whither had he -gone? To the Duke's quarters—that was all they knew. -They had seen him carried off, persuaded, fondled, -revered by that very despot whom he had dared divinely -to rebuke, and the doors had clanged and the dream -passed. To what phase of its development, confirming -or disillusioning, would they reopen? The answer to -them was at least a respite; and that was an answer -sufficient and satisfying to lives that obtained on a -succession of respites. Alas! as there is no logic in tyranny, -so can there be none in those who endure it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The earliest ratification of the promise was to witness -in the figure of the Duke coming radiant from his rooms -in company with the stranger himself, his left arm fondly -passed about the boy's neck, his eyes full of admiration -and flattery. He felt no more discomfort, it appeared, -than had Madam Beatrice on a certain occasion, in the -thought of his late self-exposure before his creatures. -Such shamelessness is the final condition of autocracy. -He had slept well, untormented of his vision. As is the -case with neurotics, a confident diagnosis of his disease -had proved the shortest means to its cure. Clever the -doctor, too, who could make such a patient's treatment -jump with his caprices; and with an inspired intuition -Bernardo had so manoeuvred to reconcile the two. A -whim much indulged may become a habit, and he was -determined to encourage to the top of its bent this whim -of reformation in the Duke. No ungrateful physicking -of a soured bile for him; no uncomfortable philosophy -of organic atoms recombined. He just restored to him -that long-lost toy of innocence, trusting that the -imagination of the man would find ever novel resources for play -in that of which the invention of the child had soon -tired. So for the present, and until virtue in his patient -should have become a second nature, was he resolved -wisely to eschew all reference to the intermediate state, -and only by example and analogy to win him to -consciousness and repentance of the enormities by which it -had been stained. A very profound little missionary, to -be sure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke, leaning on his arm as he strolled, had a -smile and a word for many. The only visible token of -his familiar self which he revealed was the arbitrariness -with which he exacted from all a fitting deference -towards his protégé. This, however, none, not the -greatest, was inclined to withhold, especially on such a -morning. Soft-footed cardinals, princes of the blood, -nobles and jingling captains, vied with one another in -obsequious attentions to our little neophyte of love. The -reasons, apart from superstitious reverence, were plentiful: -his sweetness, his beauty, his gifts of song—all warm -recommendations to a sensuous sociality; the whispered -romance of his origin, no less a patent in its eyes because -it turned on a title doubly bastard; finally, and most -cogently, no doubt, his political potentialities as a -favourite </span><em class="italics">in posse</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This last reason above any other may have accounted -for the extraordinary complaisance shown him by Messer -Ludovico, the Duke's third younger brother, at present -at court, who was otherwise of a rather inward and -withdrawing nature. He, this brother, had come from Pavia, -riding the final stage that morning, and though he had -only gathered by report the story of the last twelve -hours, thought it worth his while to go and ingratiate -himself with the stranger. He found him in the great -hall of the castello, awaiting the trial of certain causes, -which, as coming immediately under the ducal jurisdiction, -it was Galeazzo's sport often to preside over in -person. Here he saw the boy, standing at his brother's -shoulder by the judgment-seat—the comeliest figure, -between Cupid and angel, he had ever beheld; frank, -sweet, child-eyed—in every feature and quality, it would -seem, the antithesis of himself. Messer Ludovico came -up arm in arm, very condescendingly, with his excellency -the Ser Simonetta, Secretary of State, a gentleman -whom he was always at pains to flatter, since he intended -by and by to destroy him. Not that he had any personal -spite against this minister, however much he might -suspect him of misrepresenting his motives and character -to the Duchess Bona, his sister-in-law, to whom he, -Ludovico, was in reality, he assured himself, quite -attached. His policy, on the contrary, was always a -passionless one; and the point here was simply that the -man, in his humble opinion, affected too much reason and -temperance for a despotic government.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he approached the tribune he uncapped, a thought -on the near side of self-abasement, to his brother, whose -cavalier acknowledgment of the salute halted him, -however, affable and smiling, on the lowest step of the dais. -He was studious, while there, to inform with the right -touch of pleasant condescension (at least while Galeazzo's -regard was fixed on him) his attitude towards Simonetta, -lest the ever-suspicious mind of the tyrant should discover -in it some sign of a corruptive intimacy. With -heirs-possibly-presumptive in Milan, sufficient for the day's -life must be the sleepless diplomacy thereof; and better -than any man Ludovico knew on what small juggleries -of the moment the continuance of his depended. His -complexion being of a swarthiness to have earned him -the surname of The Moor, he had acquired a habit of -drooping his lids in company, lest the contrastive effect -of white eyeballs moving in a dark, motionless face -should betray him to the subjects of those covert -side-long glances by which he was wont to observe unobserved. -Even to his shoulders, which were slightly rounded by -nature, he managed, when in his brother's presence, to -give the suggestion of a self-deprecatory hump, as though -the slight burden of State which they already endured -were too much for them. His voice was low-toned; his -expression generally of a soft and rather apologetic -benignity. His manner towards all was calculated on a -graduated scale of propitiation. Paying every disputant -the compliment of deferring outwardly to his opinions, -he would not whip so little as a swineherd without -apologising for the inconvenience to which he was putting -him. His dress was rich, but while always conceived on -the subdominant note, so to speak, as implying the higher -ducal standard, was in excellent taste, a quality which he -could afford to indulge with impunity, since it excited no -suspicion but of his simplicity in Galeazzo's crude mind. -In point of fact Messer Ludovico was a born connoisseur, -and, equally in his choice of men, methods, and tools, a -first exemplar of the faculty of selection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently, seeing the Duke's gaze withdrawn from him, -he spoke to Messer Simonetta more intimately, but still -out of the twisted corner of his mouth, while his eyes -remained slewed under their lids towards the throne:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Indeed, my lord, indeed yes; 'tis a veritable -Castalidis, fresh from Parnassus and the spring. Tell me, -now—'tis no uncommon choice of my brother to favour a -fair boy—what differentiates this case from many?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The secretary, long caged in office, and worn and -toothless from friction on its bars, had yet his ideals of -Government, personal as well as political.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Your Highness,' said he, in his hoarse, thin voice, -'what differentiates sacramental wine from Malvasia?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why,' answered Ludovico, 'perhaps a degree or two -of headiness.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' said the secretary, 'is it not rather a degree or -two of holiness?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ebbene!' said the other, 'I stand excellently -corrected. (Your servant, Messer Tassino,' he said, in -parenthesis, to a pert and confident young exquisite, who -held himself arrogantly forward of the group of -spectators. The jay responded to the attention with a -condescending nod. Ludovico readdressed himself to the -secretary.) 'How neatly you put things! It is a degree -or two, as you say—between the intoxication of the spirit -and the intoxication of the senses. And is this pretty -stranger sacramental wine, and hath Heaven vouchsafed -us the Grael without the Quest? It is a sign of its high -favour, Messer Slmonetta, of which I hope and trust we -shall prove ourselves worthy.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And I hope so, Highness,' said the grave secretary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hush!' whispered Ludovico. 'The court opens.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a little stir and buzz among the spectators -who, thronging the hall, left a semi-circle of clear space -about the dais; and into this, at the moment, a fellow in -a ragged gabardine was haled by a guard of city officers. -The Duke, seated above, stroked his chin with a glance -at the prisoner of sinister relish, which, on the thought, -he smoothed, with a little apologetic cough, into an -expression of mild benignancy. Messer Lanti, planted -near at hand amid a very parterre of nobles, envoys, -ecclesiastics, bedizened </span><em class="italics">chères amies</em><span> and great officers of -the court who supported their lord on the dais, sniggered -under his breath till his huge shoulders shook.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Jew was charged with a very heinous offence—sweating -coins, no less. He was voluble and nasal over -his innocence, until one of the officers flicked him -bloodily on the mouth with his mailed hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' said Bembo, shrinking; 'that is to give the poor -man a dumb advocate, methinks.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke applauded—eliciting some louder applause -from Ludovico—and forbade the fellow sternly to strike -again without orders. A sudden sigh and movement -seemed to ripple the congregated faces and to subside. -The prisoner, however, was convicted, on sound enough -evidence, and stood sullen and desperate to hear his -sentence. Galeazzo eyed him covetously a moment; then -turning to a clerk of the court who knelt beside him -with his tablets ready, bade that obsequious functionary -proclaim the penalty which by statute obtained against -all coiners or defacers of the ducal image. It was bad -enough—breaking on the wheel—to pass without deadlier -revision; yet to such, and to the high will or caprice of -his lord, Master Scrivener humbly submitted it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, to the dumfoundering of all, did his Magnificence -appeal, with a smile, to the little Parablist at his -shoulder:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mi' amico; thou hearest? What say'st?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lord,' answered Bernardo, in the soft, clear young -voice that all might hear like a bird's song in the -stillness after rain, 'this wretch hath defaced thy graven -image.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is true.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What if, in a more impious mood, he had dared to -raise his hand against thyself?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ha! He would be made to die—not pleasantly.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is to be broken on the wheel pleasant?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, the dog shall hang.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Still for so little? Why, were he Cain he could pay -no higher. Valuest thy life, then, at a pinch of gold -dust? This is to put a premium on regicide.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke bit his lip, and frowned, and laughed -vexedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How now, Bernardino?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lord, I am young—a child, and without comparative -experience. I pray thee put this rogue aside, while we -consider.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Galeazzo waved his hand, and the Jew, staring and -stumbling, was removed. Another, a creature gaunt and -wolfish, took his place. What had he done? He had -trodden on a hare in her form, and, half-killing, had -despatched her. Why? asked Bembo. To still her -telltale cries, intimated the wretched creature. Galeazzo's -eyes gleamed; but still he called upon Heaven to -sentence. In such a case? Men glanced at one another -half terrified. Any portent, even of good, is fearful in -its rising. Bembo turned to the kneeling clerk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Come, Master Scrivener! A little offence, in any -case, and with humanity to condone it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The frightened servant shook his head, with a glance -at his master. He murmured the worst he dared—that -the law exacted the extremest penalty from the -unauthorised killer of game. Bembo stared a moment -incredulous, then pounced in mock fury at the prisoner:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wretch! what didst thou with this hare?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hind had to be goaded to an answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Master, I ate it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What!' cried the other—'a monster, to devour thy -prince's flesh!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'God knows I did not!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, God is nothing to the law, which says you did. -Else why should it draw no distinction between the -crimes of harecide and regicide? Thou hast eaten of thy -prince.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, if I have I have.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou art anthropophagous.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mercy!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No shame to thee—a lover of thy kind' (the Saint -chuckled). 'And no cannibal neither, since we have -made game of thy prince.' He chuckled again, and -turned merrily on the Duke. 'Is the hare to be prince, -or the prince hare? And yet, in either case, O Galeazzo, -I see no way for thee out of this thy loving subject's -belly!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tyrant, half captivated, half furious, started -forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Give him,' he roared—and stopped. 'Give him,' he -repeated, 'a kick on his breach and send him flying. -Nay!' he snarled, 'even that were too much honour. -Give him a scudo with which to buy an emetic.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo smiled and sighed: 'I begin to see daylight'; -and Ludovico, after laughing enjoyingly over his -brother's pleasantry, exclaimed audibly to Simonetta: -'This is the very wedding of human wit and divine. I -seem to see the air full of laughing cherubs having my -brother's features.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now there brake into the arena one clad like an artificer -in a leathern apron; a sinewy figure, but eloquent, -in his groping hands and bandaged face, of some sudden -blight of ruin seizing prime. And he cried out in a -great voice:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A boon, lord Duke, a boon! I am one Lupo, an -armourer, and thou seest me!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Certes,' said the Duke. 'Art big enough.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O lord!' cried the shattered thing, 'let me see -justice as plain with these blinded eyes.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, on whom?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lord, on him that took me sleeping, and struck me -for ever from the rolls of daylight, sith I had cursed him -for the ruin of my daughter.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Galeazzo shrugged his shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This thine assailant—is he noble?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Master, as titles go.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wert a fool, then, to presume. He were like else to -have made it good to thee. Now, an eye for—' but he -checked himself in the midst of the enormous blasphemy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Judge thou, my guardian angel,' he murmured meekly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What!' answered the boy, with a burning face, -'needs </span><em class="italics">this</em><span> revision by Heaven?' And he cried terribly: -'Master armourer, summon thy transgressor!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment the man seemed to shrink.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' cried the Saint, 'thou need'st not. I see the -hand of God come forth and write upon a forehead.' His -eyes sparkled, as if in actual inspiration. 'Tassino!' -he cried, in a ringing voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>('He heard me address him,' thought Ludovico, curious -and watchful.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the utterance of that name, the whole nerve of the -audience seemed to leap and fall like a candle-flame. -Galeazzo himself started, and his lids lifted, and his -mouth creased a moment to a little malevolent grin. -For why? This Tassino, while too indifferent a skipjack -for his jealousy, was yet the squire amoroso, the lover -</span><em class="italics">comme il faut</em><span> to his own correct Duchess, Madam Bona.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A minute's ticking silence was ended by the stir and -pert laugh of the challenged himself, as he left the ring -of spectators and sauntered into the arena. It was a -little showy upstart, to be sure, as ebulliently curled and -groomed as her Grace's lap-dog, and sharing, indeed, -with Messer Tinopino the whole present caprice of their -mistress's spoiling. His own base origin and inherent -vulgarity, moreover, seeming to associate him with the -ducal brutishness (an assumption which Galeazzo rather -favoured than resented), confirmed in him a self-confidence -which had early come to see no bounds to its -own viciousness or effrontery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now he cocked one arm akimbo, and stared with -insufferable insolence on the pronouncer of his name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Know'st me, Prophet?' bawled he. 'Not more than -I thee, methinks. Wert well coached in this same -inspiration.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, indeed,' answered Bembo. 'Thou hast said it. -It was God spake in mine ear.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tassino laughed scornfully. It was a study to see -these young wits opposed, the one such plated goods, the -other so silver pure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'In the name of this lying carle,' he cried, 'what -spake He?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He said,' said Bembo quietly, '"Let the false swearer -remember Ananias!"'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then in a moment he was all ruffled and combative, -like a young eagle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Answer!' he roared. 'Didst thou this thing?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, a woman-petted, cake-fed belswagger is too -much of an anomaly for the test of nerves. Tassino, -shouted at, gave an hysteric jump which brought him to -the very brink of tears. He was really an ill-bred little -coward, made arrogant by spoiling. He had the greatest -pity and tenderness for himself, and to any sense of his -being lost would always respond with a lump in his -throat. Now he suddenly realised his position, alone -and baited before all—no petticoat to fly to, no -sympathy to expect from a converted tyrant, none from a -mob which, habitually the butt to his viciousness, would -rejoice in his discomfiture. Actually the little beast -began to whimper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Darest thou!' he cried, stamping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Didst thou this thing?' repeated Bernardo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is no business of thine.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Didst thou this thing?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'An oaf's word against——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Didst thou this thing?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lord Duke!' appealed Tassino.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Didst thou this thing?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The victim fairly burst into tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If I say no——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Die, Ananias!' shouted the Duke. His eyes gleamed -maniacally. He half rose in his chair. He seemed as if -furious to foreclose on a dénouement his superstition had -already anticipated. Tassino fell upon his knees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I did it!' he screamed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke sank back, his lips twitching and grinning. -Then he glanced covertly at Bembo, and rubbed his -hands together, with a motion part gloating, part -deprecatory. The Ser Ludovico's eyes, shaded under his -palm, were very busy, to and fro. Bembo stood like -frowning marble.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The law, Master Scrivener?' said he quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The kneeling clerk murmured from a dry throat—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Holy sir, it takes no cognisance of these accidents. -The condescensions of the great compensate them.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Parablist, his lips pressed together, nodded gravely -twice or thrice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I see,' he said; 'a condescension which ruins two lives.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He addressed himself, with a deadly sweetness, to the Duke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I prithee, who standest for God's vicegerent, call up -the Jew to sentence.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jehoshaphat was produced, and placed beside the -blubbered, resentful young popinjay. The Saint -addressed him:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wretch, thou art convicted of the crime of defacing -the Duke's image; and he at thine elbow of defacing -God's image. Shall man dare the awful impiety to -pronounce the greater guilt thine? Yet, if it merits -death and mutilation, what for this other?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused, and a stir went through the dead stillness -of the hall. Then Bembo addressed one of the tipstaves -with ineffable civility:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good officer, this rogue hath sweated coins, say'st?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, your worship,' answered the man; 'a hundred -gold ducats, if a lire. Shook 'em in a leathern bag, a' did, -like so much rusted harness.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'They are forfeit, by the token; and he shall labour to -provide other hundred, with cost of metal and stamping.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jehoshaphat, secure of his limbs, shrieked derisive—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'God of Ishril! O, yes! O, to be sure! I can -bleed moneys!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' said the Saint, 'but sweat them. Go!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The coiner was dragged away blaspheming. He would -have preferred a moderate dose of the rack; but the -standard set by his sentence elicited a murmur of popular -approval. From all, that is to say, but Tassino, who saw -his own fate looming big by comparison. He rose and -looked about him desperately, as if he contemplated -bolting. The spectators edged together. He whinnied. -Suddenly the stranger's voice swooped upon him like a -hawk:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Man's image shall be restored; restore thou God's.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little wretch screamed in a sudden access of passion:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I don't know what you mean! Leave me alone. -It was his own fault, I say. Why did he insult me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Restore thou this image of God his sight,' said Bembo -quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You know I cannot!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou canst not? Then an eye for an eye, as it was -spoken. Take ye this wicked thing, good officers, and -blind him even as he blinded the poor armourer.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A vibrant sound went up from the spectators, and -died. Messer Ludovico veiled his sight, and, it might -be said, his laughter. Tassino was seen struggling and -crying in the half-fearful clutch of his gaolers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou darest not! Dogs! Let me go, I say. What! would -ye brave Madonna? Lord Duke, lord Duke, -help me!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'To repentance, my poor Tassino,' cried Galeazzo, -leaning lustfully forward. 'I trow thy part on earth is -closed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little monster could not believe it. This instant -fall from the heights! He was flaccid with terror as he -fell screeching on his knees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mercy, good stranger! Mercy, dear lord saint! The -terror! the torture! I could not suffer them and live. -O, let me live, I pray thee!—anywhere, anyhow, and I -will do all; make whatever restitution you impose.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he prayed and wept and grovelled, the Saint looked -down with icy pity on his abasement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Restitution, Tassino!' he cried, 'for that murthered -vision, for that ruined virtue? Wouldst thou even in -thine impiousness arrogate to thyself such divine -prerogatives? Yet, in respect of that reason with which -true justice doth hedge her reprisals, the Duke's mercy -shall still allot thee an alternative. Sith thou canst not -restore his honour or his eyes to poor Lupo, thou shalt -take his shame to wife, and in her seek to renew that -image of God which thou hast defaced. Do this, and -only doing it, know thyself spared.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A silence of stupefaction fell upon the court. What -would Bona say to this arbitrary disposal of her pet, -made husband to a common gipsy he had debauched? -True, the sentence, by virtue of its ethical completeness, -seemed an inspiration. But it was a disappointment too. -None doubted but that the popinjay would subscribe to -the present letter in order to evade the practice of it by -and by. Already the paltry soul of the creature was -struggling from its submersion, gasping, and blinking -wickedly to see how it could retort upon its judge and -deliverer. It had been better to have trodden it under -for once and for good—better for the moral of the lesson, -as for all who foresaw some hope for themselves in the -crushing of an insufferable petty tyranny. Galeazzo -himself frowned and bit his nails. He would have lusted -to see heaven pluck off this vulgar burr for him. Only -his brother, sleek and smiling, applauded the verdict. -He had a far-seeing vision, had Ludovico, and perhaps -already it was alotting a more telling rôle to the little -aristocrat of San Zeno than had ever been played by the -cockney parvenu down in the arena.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly the Duke was on his feet, fierce and glaring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Answer, dog!' he roared; 'acceptest thou the condition?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tassino started and sobbed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, yes. I accept. I will marry her.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke took a costly chain from his own neck, and -hung it about the shoulders of the Parablist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wear this,' he said, 'in earnest of our love and duty.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he turned upon the mob.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'These judgments stand, and all that shall be spoken -hereafter by our dear monitor and proctor. It is our -will. Make way, gentlemen.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took Bernardo's arm and descended the steps. A -cloud of courtiers hovered near, acclaiming the boy Saint -and Daniel. Messer Ludovico saluted him with fervour. -He foresaw the millennium in this association of piety -with greatness. Galeazzo sneered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Remember that three spoils company, brother,' said -he. 'Keep thou thine own confessor, and leave me mine.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was then only that Bernardo learned the rank of his -accoster.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas! sweet lord,' said he, 'is piety such a stranger -here that ye must entertain him like a king?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke laughed loudly and drew him on. He -was extravagant in his attentions to him—eager, voluble, -feverish. He would point out to him the lavish decorations -of his house—marbles, sculptures, paintings, the -rising fabric of a new era—and ask his opinion on all. A -word from the child at that period would have floored a -cardinal or a scaffolding, have clothed Aphrodite in a -cassock, have made a </span><em class="italics">fête champêtre</em><span> of all Milan, or -darkened its walls with mourning. Messer Lanti, following -in their wake, was amazed, and dubious, and savage -in turns. Earlier in the day the Duke had had from him -the whole story of his connection with the Parablist, -up to the moment of their interference in Montano's -punishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">Meschino me!</em><span>' he had said, greatly laughing over -that episode; 'yet I cannot but be glad that the old code -beat itself out on his back. 'Twas a reptile well -served—a venomous, ungrateful beast. A mercy if it has -broken his fang.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That remained to be seen; and in the meantime -Carlo, the old auxiliary in debauch, was taken again -into full favour. He accepted the condescension with -reserve. The oddest new attachment had come to -supplant in him some ancient devotions that were the -furthest from devout. He found himself in a very -queer mood, between irritable and gentle. He had -never before felt this inclination to hit hard for virtue, -and it bewildered his honest head. But it made him a -dangerous watchdog.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By and by the Duke carried his protégé into the -Duchess's privy garden. There was a necessary economy -of ornamental ground about the castello, though the -most was made of what could be spared. In a nest -of green alleys, and falling terraces, and rose-wreathed -arches, they came upon the two ladies whom Bembo had -already seen, themselves as pretty, graceful flowers as -any in the borders. The young Catherine sat upon a -fountain edge, fanning herself with a great leaf, and -talking to a flushed, down-looking page, who, it seemed -likely, had brought news from the court of a recent -scandal and its sequel. Her shrewd, pretty face took -curious stock of the new comers. She was a pale slip of -a girl, lithe, bosomless, the green plum of womanhood. -Her thin, plain dress was green, fitting her like a sheath -its blade of corn, and she wore on her sleek fair head a -cap of green velvet banded with a scroll of beaten gold. -A child she was, yet already for two years betrothed to -a Pope's nephew. His presents on the occasion had -included a camera of green velvet, sewn with pearls as -thick as daisies in grass. It seemed natural to associate -her with spring verdure, so sweet and fair she was; yet -never, surely, worked a more politic little brain under its -cap of innocence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hard by, on one of the walks, a woman and a child of -seven played at ball. These were Bona, and her little -son Gian-Galeazzo. As the other was spring, so was she -summer, ripe in figure and mellowed in the passion of -motherhood. Her eyes burned with the caress and -entreaty of it—appealed in loveliness to the fathers of -her desires. Her beauty, her stateliness, the very milk -of her were all sweet lures to increase. She loved -babies, not men—saw them most lusty, perhaps, in the -glossy eyes of fools, the breeding-grounds of Cupids. She -was always a mother before a wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke led Bernardo to her side. Pale as ivory, -she bent and embraced her boy, and dismissed him to -the fountain; then rose to face the ordeal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hail, judgments of Solomon!' she said, with a smile -that quivered a little. 'O believe me, sir, thy fame has -run before!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Which was the reason thou dismissedst Gian,' said -Galeazzo, 'in fears that Solomon would propose to halve -him?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not doubt her, or wing his shaft with anything -but brutality. It was his coward way, and, having -asserted it, he strolled off, grinning and whistling, to the -fountain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bona shivered and drew herself up. Her robe was all -of daffodil, with a writhed golden hem to it that looked -like a long flicker of flame. On her forehead, between -wings of auburn hair, burned a great emerald. She -seemed to Bernardo the loveliest, most gracious thing, a -vision personified of fruitfulness, the golden angel of -maternity, warm, fragrant, kind-bosomed. He met the -gaze of her eyes with wonderment, but no fear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Sweet Madonna,' he said, 'hail me nothing, I pray -thee, but the clear herald of our Christ—His mouthpiece -and recorder. We may all be played upon for truth, so -we be pure of heart.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And that art thou? No guile? No duplicity? No -self-interest?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He marvelled. She looked at him earnestly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bernardo, didst know this Tassino was my servant?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, I knew it not.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wouldst have spared him hadst thou known?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How could I spare him the truth?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But its shame, its punishment?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Greater shame could no man have than to debauch -innocence. His punishment was his redemption.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah! I defend him not. Yet, bethink thee, she may -have been the temptress?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He should have loathed, not loved her, then.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Madreperla, mother-of-pearl,' cried Catherine, with a -little shriek of laughter, from the fountain; 'come and -help me! I have caught a butterfly in my hand, and my -father wishes to take it from me and kill it!'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-vii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Bernardo wrote to the Abbot of San Zeno:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'MOST DEAR AND HONOURED FATHER,—Many -words from me would but dilute the wonder of my -narrative. Also thou lovest brevity in all things but -God's praise. Know, then, how I have surpassed -expectation in the early propagation of our creed, which is -by Love to banish Law, that old engine of necessarianism. -[</span><em class="italics">Here follows a brief recapitulation of the events which had -landed him, a little sweet oracle of light, in the dark old -castello of Milanl.</em><span>] Man' (he goes on) 'is of all creatures -the most susceptible to his environments. Thou shalt -induce him but to feed on the olive branches of Peace in -order that he may take their colour. O sorrow, then, on -the false appetites which have warped his nature! on the -beastly doctrines which, Satan-engendered, have led him -half to believe there is no wrong or right, but only -necessity! Is there no such thing as discord in music, at -which even a dog will howl? Harmony is God—so -plain. Yet there is a learned doctor here, one Lascaris -who disputeth this. My father, I do not think that -learned doctors seek so much the intrinsic truth of things -as to impress their followers with their perspicacity in -the pursuit. John led James over-the-way by a "short -cut" of three miles, and James thought John a very -clever fellow. Pray for me!...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will speak first of the Duchess, to whom I delivered -your letter. She is a most sweet lady, with eyes, so kind -and loving were they, they made me think of those soft -stars which light the flocks to fold. She asked me did I -remember my mother? "That is a strange question," -quoth I, "to a foundling." "Ah!" said she, "poor child! -I had forgot how thou fell'st, a star, into Mary's lap. I -would have taken care, for my part, not so to tumble out -of heaven." "Nay," I said, "but if thou, a mother there, -hadst let slip thy baby first?" "What," she said, looking -at me so strange and wistful, "did she follow, then?" My -father, thou know'st my fancies. "I cannot tell," I -said. "Sometimes, in a dream, the dim, sad shadow of a -woman's face seems to hang over me lying on that -altar." She held out her arms to me, then withdrew -them, and she was weeping. "We are all wicked," she -cried; "there is no heart, nor faith, nor virtue, in any of -us!" and she ran away lamenting. Now, was not that -strange? for she is in truth a lady of great virtue, a pure -wife and mother, and to me most sweet-forgiving for an -ill-favour I was forced to do her upon one of her servants. -But not women nor men know their own hearts. They -wear the devil's livery for fashion's sake, when he -introduces it on a pretty sister or young gentleman, and so -believe themselves bound to his service. But it is as -easy as talking to make virtue the mode. Thou shalt see.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Does not the beautiful Duomo itself stand in their -midst, the fairest earnest of their true piety? Could -intrinsic baseness conceive this ethereal fabric, or, year -by year, graft it with sprigs of new loveliness? There is -that in them yet like a little child that stretches out its -arms to the sky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have, besides the greatest, two converts, or -half-converts, already, my dear Carlo and his Fool. The -former is a great bull gallant, whom a spark will set -roaring and a kiss allay. I love him greatly, and he -bellows and prances, and swearing "I will not" follows -to the pipe of peace. Alas! if I could woo him from a -great wrong! It will happen, when men see honour -whole, and not partisanly. In the meantime I have -every reason to be charitable to that lady Beatrice, sith -she holds herself my mortal enemy. And indeed I -excuse her for myself, but not for the honest soul she -keeps in thrall. My father, is it not a strange paradox, -that holding the senses such a rich possession and life so -cheap? Here is one would prolong the body's pleasure -to eternity, yet at any moment will risk its destruction -for a spite. Nathless she is warm, loamy soil for the -bearing of our right lily of love, and some day shall be -fruitful in cleanliness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now the Fool—poor Fool! I have won to temperance, -and so Carlo growleth, "A murrain on thee, spoil-sport! -What want I with a sober Fool? Take him, thou, to be -valet to thy temperance!" by which gibe he seeks to -cover a gracious act. And, lo! I have a Fool for servant, -a most notable Fool and auxiliary, who, having sworn -himself to abstinence, would unplug and sink to the -bottomless abyss every floating hogshead. In sooth the -good soul is my shadow, and so they call him. "Well," -says he, "so be it. But what sort of fool art thou, to -cast a fool for shadow?" "Why, look," says I, for it -was sunset on the grass—"at least not so great a fool as -thou." "That may well be," says he, "for you do not -serve Messer Bembo." So caustic is he—a biting love; -yet, as is proper between a man and his shadow, equal -attached to me as I to him. And so, talking of his -gift to me, brings me to the greater gifts of the Duke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O my father! How can I speak my gratitude to -heaven and thy teaching, which brought me so swiftly, -so wonderfully, to prevail with that dread man! I think -evil is like the false opal, which needs but the first touch -of pure light to shatter it. I have come with no weapon -but my little lamp of sunshine; and behold! in its flash -the base is discredited and the truth acknowledged. It -is all so easy, Christ guard me! There is a Providence -in what men call chance. Only, my father, pray that -thy child be not misled by flattery to usurp its -prerogatives. Men, in this dim world, are all too prone to -worship the visible symbols of Immortality—to accept -the prophet for the Master. I am already fêted and -caressed as if I were a god. The Duke hath -impropriated to me an income of a thousand ducatos, with -free residence in the castello, and a retinue to befit a -prince. At all this I cavil not, sith it affords me the -sinews to a crusade. But what shall I say to his -delegating me to the chief magistracy of Milan during his -forthcoming absence? for he is on the eve of an expedition -into Piedmont, touching the lordship of Vercelli, which -he claims through his wife Bona of Savoy. Carlo, it is -true, warns me against this perilous exaltation. "Seek'st -thou," says he, "to depose the devil? Well, the devil, -on his return, will treat thee like any other palace -revolutionist." "Nay," says I, "the devil was never the -devil from choice. Restore him to a converted dukedom, -and he will aspire to be the saint of all." "Yes," -he said, "I can imagine Galeazzo endowing a hospital -for Magdalenes and washing the poor's feet. But I will -stick to thee." A dear worldling he is, and only less -uncertain than his master in these first infant steps -towards godliness. For vice is very childlike in its -self-plumings upon a little knowledge. Desiring beauty, -it tears the rose-bush or clutches the moth, and so sickens -on disillusionment. Forbearance is the wisdom of the -great.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The more destructive is a man, the simpler is he. -Now, my father, this destroying Duke covets nothing -so much as the applause of the world for gifts with -which, in truth, he is ill-endowed. He cannot sing, or -rhyme, or improvise but with the worst, yet, thinks he, -they shall call me poet and musician, or burn. Well, -he might fiddle over the holocaust, like Nero, and still -be first cousin to a peacock. I told him so, but in -gentler words, when he asked me to teach him my -method. "To every soul its capacities," says I, "and -mine are not in ruling a great duchy greatly." "So we -are neither of us omnipotent," says he, with a smile. -"Well, I will take the lesson to heart." Now, could so -simple a creature be all corrupt?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Of more complicated fibre is his brother, the Signior -Ludovico. Very politic and abiding, he rushes at nothing; -yet in the end, I think, most things come to him. He -is gracious to thy child, as indeed are all; yet, God -forgive me, I find something more inhuman in his -gentleness than in Galeazzo's passion. These inexplicable -antipathies are surely the weapons of Satan; whereby -it behoves us to overcome them. That same Lascaris -attributes them to an accidental re-fusion of particles, -opposed to other chance re-combinations, in a present -body, of particles similarly antipathetic to us in a -former existence—a long "short cut" over the way -again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now, as for my days in this poignant city—where -even the benches and clothes-chests, not to speak of -most walls and ceilings, yea, and the very stair-posts -themselves, are painted with crowded devices of scrolls -and figures in loveliest gold and azure and vermilion—thou -mayest believe they are strange to me. Amidst -this wealth I, thy simple acolyte, am glorified, I say, -and courted beyond measure. Yet fear nothing for -me. I appraise this distinction at its right market -value. The higher the Duke's favour, the greater my -presumptive influence. Believe me, dear, my urbanity -towards his attentions is an investment for my Master. -I am an honest factor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'In a week the Duke sets out. In the meantime, like -an ambassador that must suffer present festival for the -sake of future credit, I sit at feasts and plays; or, -perchance, rise to denounce the latter for no better than -whores' saturnalia. (O my father! to see fair ladies, -the Duchess herself, smile on such shameless -bawdry!) Whereon the Duke thunders all to stop, with threats -of fury on the actors to mend their ways, making the -poor fools gasp bewildered. For how had </span><em class="italics">they</em><span> presumed -upon custom? Bad habit is like the moth in fur, so -easily shaken out when first detected; so hardly when -established. Once, more to my liking, we have a -mummers' dance, with clowns in rams' heads butting; -and again a harvest ballet, with all the seasons pictured -very pretty. Another day comes a Mantuan who plays -on three lutes at once, more curious than tuneful; and -after him one who walks on a rope in the court, a steel -cuirass about his body. Now happens their festival of -the </span><em class="italics">Bacchidæ</em><span>, a pagan survival, but certes sweet and -graceful, with its songs and vines and dances. Maybe -for my sake they purge it of some licence. Well, Heaven -witness to them what loss or gain thereby to beauty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Often the court goes hunting the wolf or deer—I -care not; or a-picnicking by the river, which I like, and -where we catch trouts and lampreys to cook and eat on -the green; then run we races, perchance, or play at -ball. So merry and light-hearted—how can wickedness -be other than an accident with these children of -good-nature? To mark the jokes they play on one -another—mischievous sometimes—suggests to one a romping -nursery, which yet I know not. Father, who was my -mother? I trow we romped somewhere in heaven. -Once some gallants of them, being in collusion with -the watch, enter, in the guise of robbers, Messer Secretary -Simonetta's house at midnight, and bind and blindfold -that great man, and placing him on an ass in his night-gear -(which is an excuse for nothing), carry him through -the streets as if to their quarters. Which, having gained, -they unbind; and lo! he is in the inner ward of the -castello, the Duke and a great company about him and -shouts of laughter; in which I could not help but join, -though it was shameful. Next day the Duchess herself -does not disdain a wrestling match with the lady -Catherine, her adoptive daughter; when the lithe little -serpent, enwreathing that stately Queen, doth pull her -sitting on her lap, whereby she conquers. For all -improvising and stories they have as great a passion -as ingenuity; and therein, my gifts by Christ's ensample -lying, comes my opportunity. Dear Father, am I -presumptuous in my feeble might, like the boy Phæton -when he coaxed the Sun's reins from Ph[oe]bus, and -scorched the wry road since called the Milky Way? -That is such an old tale as we tell by moonlight under -trees—such as Christ Himself, the child-God, hath -recounted to us, sitting shoulder-deep in meadow-grass, -or by the pretty falling streams. Is He that exacting, -that exotic Deity, lusting only for adoration, eternally -gluttonous of praise and never surfeited, whom squeamish -indoor men, making Him the fetish of their closets, -have reared for heaven's type? O, find Him in the -blown trees and running water; in the carol of sweet -birds; in the mines from whose entrails are drawn our -ploughshares; yea, in the pursuit of maid by man! So, -in these long walks and rests of life, shall He be no -less our Prince because He is our joyous comrade. For -this I know: Not to a pastor, a lord, a parent himself, -doth the soul of the youth go out as to the companion -of his own age and freedom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Christ comes again as He journeyed with His -Apostles, the bright wise comrade, fitting earth to -heaven in the puzzle of the spheres. We know Him -Human, my father, feeling the joy of weariness for -repose' sake; not disdaining the cool inn's sanctuary; -expounding love by forbearance. He beareth Beauty -redeemed on His brow. Before the clear gaze of His -eyes all heaped sophistries melt away like April snow. -He calleth us to the woods and meadows. </span><em class="italics">Quasimodo -geniti infantes rationabile sine dolo lac concupiscete</em><span>. O, -mine eyelids droop! We are seldom at rest here before -two o' the morning. The beds have trellised gratings -by day, to keep the dogs from smirching their coverlets. -</span><em class="italics">Ora pro me</em><span>!'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-viii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The castle at the Porta Giovia had its glooms as -well as its pleasances. Indeed, it may be questioned -if the latter were not rather in proportion to the -former as a tiger's gay hide is to the strength and ferocity -it clothes. Built originally for a great keep, or, as it -were, breakwater, to stem the rush of barbarian seas -which were wont to come storming down from the north-west, -its constructors had aimed at nothing less than its -everlastingness. So thick were its bastioned walls, so -thick the curtains which divided its inner and outer -wards, a whole warren of human 'runs' could honeycomb -without appreciably weakening them. Hidden within its -screens and massy towers, like the gnawings of a foul -and intricate cancer, ran dark passages which discharged -themselves here and there into dreadful dungeons, or -secret-places not guessed at in the common tally of its -rooms. These oubliettes were hideous with blotched and -spotted memories; rotten with the dew of suffering; -eloquent in their terror and corruption and darkness, of -that same self-sick, self-blinded tyranny which, in place -of Love and Justice, the trusty bodyguards, must turn -always to cruelty and thick walls for its security. The -hiss and purr of subterranean fire, the grinding of -low-down grated jaws, the flop and echo of stagnant water, -oozed from a stagnant moat into vermin-swarming, -human-haunted cellars,—these were sounds that spoke -even less of grief to others than of the hellish ferment -in the soul of him who had raised them for his soul's -pacifying. Himself is for ever the last and maddest -victim of a despot's oppression.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There had been stories to tell, could the coulter of -Time once have cut into those far-down vaults, and his -share laid open. Now this was so far from promising, -that their history and mystery were in process of being -still further overlaid and stifled under accumulations of -superstructure. Francesco, the great Condottiere, the -present Duke's father, had been the first to realise dimly -how a tyrant, by converting his self-prison into a shrine -for his æstheticism, might enjoy a certain amelioration -of his condition. It was he who, yielding an older palace -and its grounds to the builders of the cathedral, had -transferred the ducal quarters to the great fortress, which -henceforth was to be the main seat of the Sforzas. Here -the first additions and rebuildings had been his, the first -decorations and beautifyings—tentative at the best, for -he was always more a soldier than a connoisseur. The -real movement was inaugurated by his successor, and -continued, as cultivation was impressed on him, on a -scale of magnificence which was presently to make the -splendour of Milan a proverb. Galeazzo, an indifferent -warrior, to whose rule but a tithe of the territory once -gathered to the Visconti owned allegiance, contented his -ambitions by rallying an army of painters and sculptors -and decorators to the glorification of his houses at -Milan, Cremona, and his ancestral petted Pavia,—after -all a worthier rôle than the conqueror's for a good man; -but then, this man was so bad that he blighted -everything he touched. It is true that the disuse of secret -torture would have been considered, and by men more -enlightened than he, so little expedient a part of any -ethical or æsthetical 'improvement' of an existing house, -as that a premium would be put thereby on assassination. -Yet Galeazzo's death-pits were never so much a -politic necessity as a resource for cruelty in idleness. He -would descend into them with as much relish as he -would reclimb from, to his halls above, swelling and -bourgeoning with growth of loveliness. The scream of -torture was as grateful to his ears as was the love-throb -of a viol; the scum bubbling from his living graves as -poignant to his nostrils as was the scent of floating -lilies. He continued to make his house beautiful, yet -never once dreamt, as a first principle of its reclamation -to sweetness, of cutting out of its foundations those old -cesspools of disease and death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One night he sat in his closet of the Rocca, a little -four-square room dug out of the armourer's tower, and -having a small oratory adjoining. This eyrie was so -high up as to give a comfortable sense of security -against surprise. There was but one window to it—just -a deep wedge in the wall, piercing to the sheer flank -of the tower. Sweet rushes carpeted the floor; the arras -was pictured with dim, sacred subjects—Ambrosius in -his cradle, with the swarm of bees settling on his honeyed -lips; Ambrosius elected Bishop of Milan by the people; -Ambrosius imposing penance on Theodosius for his -massacre of the Thessalonicans—and the drowsy odours -of a pastile, burning in the little purple shrine-lamp, -robbed the air of its last freshness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Another lamp shone on a table, at which the Duke -was seated somewhat preoccupied with a lute, and his -tablets propped before him; while, motionless in the -shadows opposite, stood the figure of the provost marshal, -its fixed, unregarding eyes glinting in the flame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Intermittently Galeazzo strummed and murmured, -self-communing, or addressing himself, between playfulness -and abstraction, to the ear of Messer Jacopo:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">The lowliest of all Franciscans was St. Francis, meek -mate of beasts and birds, boasting himself no peer of belted -stars</em><span>.... Ha! a good line, Jacopo, a full significant -line; I dare say it, our Parablist despite. Listen.' (He -chaunted the words in a harsh, uncertain voice, to an -accompaniment as sorry.) 'Hear'st? Belted stars—those -moon-ringed spheres the aristocracy of the night. -Could Messer Bembo himself have better improvised? -What think'st? Be frank.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I think of improvising by book,' said Jacopo, short -and gruff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Galeazzo said 'Ha!' again, like a snarl, and his brow -contracted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, thou unconscionable old surly dog!' he said—'why?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jacopo pointed to the tablets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Your saint asks no notes to </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> piping. A' sings like -the birds.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now,' answered his master, in a deep, offended tone, -'I'm in a mind to make </span><em class="italics">thee</em><span> sing on a grill,—ay, and -dance too. What, dolt! are not first thoughts first -thoughts, however they may be pricked down? Look at -this, I say; flatten thy bull nose on it. Is it not clean, -untouched, unrevised? Spotless as when issued from -Helicon? Beast! thou shalt call me, too, an improvisatore.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The statue was silent. Galeazzo sat glaring and -gnawing his fingers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Answer!' he screeched suddenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will call thee one,' said Jacopo obstinately, 'but not -the best.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke fell back in his chair, then presently was -muttering and strumming with his disengaged fingers on -the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No—not the best, not the best—not to rival heaven! -Yet, perhaps, it should be the Duke's privilege.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The executioner laughed a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The Duke should know how to take it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Galeazzo stopped short, quite vacant, staring at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I've heard tell,' said Jacopo, 'how one Nero, a fiddling -emperor, came to be acknowledged first fiddle of all.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused, then answered, it seemed, an unspoken -invitation: 'He just silenced the better ones.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Galeazzo got hurriedly to his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Blasphemer! thou shalt die for the word. What! this -Lord's anointed! A natural songster! no art, no -culture in his voice—sweet and wild, above human -understanding. I said nothing. Be damned, and damned -alone! Go hang thyself like Judas!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, name my successor first,' said Jacopo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke leapt, and with one furious blow shattered -his lute to splinters on the other's steel headpiece, then -stamped upon the fragments, his arms flapping like wing -stumps, his teeth sputtering a foam of inarticulate words. -Jacopo, erect under the avalanche, stood perfectly silent -and impassive. Then, as suddenly as it had burst, the -storm ended. Galeazzo sank back on his seat, panting -and nerveless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, I am no poet—curse thy block head, and mine -for trusting to it—the Muses shall decide—Apollo or -Marsyas—the Christian Muses and a Christian penance—flaying -only for heretics. I am no poet nor musician, -say'st? Calf! what know'st thou about such things?' He -roared again: 'What brings thee here, with thy -damned butcher's face, scaring my pretty lambs of song?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thine order.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mine?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This astrologer monk, this Fra Capello was it not? -I neither know nor care.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dost thou not? A faithful dog!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Faithful enough.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O! art thou? By what token?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'By the token of the quarry run to earth.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'To earth? Thou hast him? Good Jacopo!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This three days past. Had I not told thee so already? -Let thine improvising damn thyself, not me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The villain! to call himself a Franciscan, a lowly -Franciscan, and pretend to read the stars! How about -his prophecy now?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, he holds to it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What! that I have but eleven years in all to -reign—less than one to live?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Just that—no more.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now, is it not a wicked schism from the plain humility -of his founder? A curse on their spirituals and -conventuals! </span><em class="italics">This</em><span> fellow to claim kinship with the -stars—profess to be in their confidence, to share heaven's -secrets? Dear Jacopo, sweet Jacopo! is it not well to -cleanse this earth of such lying prophets, that truth may -have standing-room?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ask truth, not me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, not to grieve truth's heart—the onus shall be -ours. This same Franciscan—this soothsaying monk—where -hast lodged him?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'In the "Hermit's Cell."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, old jester! He shall prove his asceticism thereby. -Let practised abstinence save him in such pass. He shall -eat his words—an everlasting banquet. A fat astrologer, -by the token, as I hear.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He went in, fat.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wretch! wouldst thou starve him? Remember the -worms, thy cousins. Hath he foretold his end?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, by starvation.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He lies, then. Thou shalt take him </span><em class="italics">in extremis</em><span>, and, -with thy knife in his throat, give him the lie. An impostor -proved. What sort of night is it?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, it rains and thunders.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hush! Why should we fear rain and thunder? God -put His bow in the sky. Jacopo, it is a sweet and fearful -thing to be chosen minister of one of His purifications—Noah, -and Lot, and now thy prince.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Purification?' said the executioner: 'by what?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'By love, thou fool!' whispered Galeazzo, half ecstatic, -half furious, with a nervous glance about him. 'There -were the purifications by water one, one by fire, and a -third by blood, to the last of which His servants yet -testify in the spirit of their Redeemer. Blood, Jacopo, -thou little monster—blood flowing, streams of it, the -visible token of the sacrifice. That was our task till -yesterday. Now in the end comes Love, and calleth for -a cleansed and fruitful soil. Let us hasten with the last -tares—to cut them down, and let their blood consummate -the fertilising. Quick: we have no time to lose.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He flung himself from the statue, and tiptoed, in a sort -of gloating rapture, to the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Show me this tare, I say.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went down the tower a few paces, with assured -steps, then, bethinking himself, beckoned the other to -lead. The flight conducted them to a private postern, -well secured and guarded inside and out. As they issued -from this, the howl of blown rain met and staggered them. -Looking up at the blackened sky from the depths of that -well of masonry, it seemed to crack and split in a rush of -fusing stars. The mad soul of the tyrant leapt to speed -the chase. He was one with this mighty demonstration—as -like a chosen instrument of the divine retribution. -His brain danced and flickered with exquisite visions of -power. He was an angel, a destroying angel, commissioned -to purge the world of lies. 'Bring me to this -monk!' he screamed through the thunder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Deep in the foundations of the north-eastern tower the -miserable creature was embedded, in a stone chamber as -utterly void and empty as despair. The walls, the floor, -the roof, were all chiselled as smooth as glass. There was -not anywhere foothold for a cat—nor door, nor trap, nor -egress, nor window of any kind, save where, just under -the ceiling, the grated opening by which he had been -lowered let in by day a haggard ghost of light. And -even that wretched solace was withdrawn as night -fell—became a phantom, a diluted whisp of memory, sank like -water into the blackness, and left the fancy suddenly naked -in self-consciousness of hell. Then Capello screamed, and -threw himself towards the last flitting of that spectre. He -fell and bruised his limbs horribly: the very pain was a -saving occupation. He struck his skull, and revelled in -the agonised dance of lights the blow procured him. But -one by one they blew out; and in a moment dead negation -had him by the throat again, rolling him over and over, -choking him under enormous slabs of darkness. Now, -gasping, he cursed his improvidence in not having glued -his vision to the place of the light's going. It would have -been something gained from madness to hold and gloat -upon it, to watch hour by hour for its feeble re-dawn. -Among all the spawning monstrosities of that pit, with -only the assured prospect of a lingering death before him, -the prodigy of eternal darkness quite overcrowed that -other of thirst and famine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet the dawn broke, it would seem, before its due. -Had he annihilated time, and was this death? He rose -rapturously to his feet, and stood staring at the grating, -the tears gushing down his fallen cheeks. The bars were -withdrawn; and in their place was a lamp intruded, and -a face looked down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Capello, dost thou hunger and thirst?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The voice awoke him to life, and to the knowledge -of who out of all the world could be thus addressing -him. He answered, quaveringly: 'I hunger and thirst, -Galeazzo.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is a beatitude, monk,' said the voice. 'Thou shalt -have thy fill of justice.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas!' cried the prisoner: 'justice is with thee, I fear, -an empty phrase.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Comfort thyself,' said the other: 'I shall make a full -measure of it. It shall bubble and sparkle to the brim -like a great goblet of Malmsey. Dost know the wine -Malmsey, monk?—a cool, heady, fragrant liquid, that -gurgles down the arid throat, making one o' hot days -think of gushing weirs, and the green of grass under -naked feet.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk fell on his knees, stretching out his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I ask no mercy of thee, but to end me without torture.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Torture, quotha!' cried the fiend above—'what -torture in the vision of a wine-cup crushed, or, for the -matter of that, a feast on white tables under trees. -Picture it, Capello: the quails in cold jelly; the melting -pasties; the salmon-trout tucked under blankets of -whipped cream; the luscious peaches, and apricots like -maiden's cheeks. Why, art not a Conventual, man, and -rich in such experiences of the belly? And to call 'em -torture—fie!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mercy!' gasped the monk. His swollen throat could -hardly shape the word. Galeazzo laughed, and bent over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Answer, then: how long am I to live?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'By justice, for ever.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What! live for ever on an empty phrase? Then art -thou, too, provisioned for eternity.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He held out his hand:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Art humbled at last, monk, or monkey? How much -for a nut?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Leaping at the mad thought of some relenting in the -voice and question, the prisoner ran under the -outstretched hand, and held up his own, abjectly, fulsomely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Master, give it me—one—one only, to dull this living -agony!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A sop to thee, then,' cried Galeazzo, and dropped a -chestnut. The monk caught it, and, cracking it between -his teeth, roared out and fell spitting and sputtering. He -had crunched upon nothing more savoury than a shell -filled up with river slime. The Duke screamed and -hopped with laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is not that richer than quail, more refreshing than -Malmsey?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk fell on his knees:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now hear me, God!' he gabbled awry: 'Let not this -man ever again know surcease from torment, in bed, at -board, in his body, or in his mind. Let his lust -consummate in frostbite; let the worm burrow in his entrails, -and the maggot in his brain. May his drink be salt, and -his meat bitter as aloes. May his short lease of wicked -life be cancelled, and death seize him, and damnation -wither in the moment of his supreme impenitence. -Darken his vision, so that for evermore it shall see -despair and the mockery of fruitless hope. Let him walk -a self-conscious leper in the sunshine, and strive vainly to -propitiate the loathing in eyes in which he sees himself -reflected an abhorred and filthy ape. May the curse of -Assisi——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Galeazzo screamed him down:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Quote him not—beast—vile apostate from his teaching!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment the two battled in a war of screeching -blasphemy: the next, the grate was flung into place, the -light whisked and vanished, a door slammed, and the -blackness of the cell closed once more upon the moaning -heap in its midst.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Quaking and ashen, babbling oaths and prayers, -Galeazzo flung back to his closet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bring wine!' he shook out between his teeth to Jacopo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When it came, he tasted, and flung it from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Salt!' he shrieked. His fancy quite overcrowed his -reason. 'O God, I am poisoned!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rose, staggering, and entered his oratory, and cast -himself on his knees before the little shrine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not from this man,' he protested, whimpering and -writhing; 'Lord, not from this man—I know him better -than Thou—a recusant, a sorcerer! Be not deceived -because of his calling. To curse Thine anointed! kill -him, Lord—kill the blasphemer—I hold him ready to -Thy hand! Good sweet St. Francis, I but weed thy -pastures—a wicked false brother, tainting the fold. How -shall love prevail, this poison at its root?—Poison! O -my God, to be stricken for evermore! life's fruit to change -to choking ashes in my mouth! It cannot be—I, Galeazzo -the Duke—yet I taunted him with visions: what if I have -caught the infection of mine own imagination—too -fearful, spare me this once. Lord God, consider—as I put it -to Thee—now—like this—listen. To starve with him -should be but a fast enlarged. What then? Some, honest -ascetics, no Conventuals, so push abstinence to ecstasy as -that they may cross the lines of death in a dream, and -wake without a pang to heaven gained. If he does not, -should he suffer, he is properly condemned for a gross -pampered brother, false to his vows, unworthy Thine -advocacy. Now, call the test a fair one. Chain back this -dog that ravens to tear me. How, so stricken, made -corrupt, could I work Thy will but through corruption? -Hush! Thou mean'st it not—only as a jest? Give me -some sign, then. Ah! Thou laugh'st—very quietly, but -I hear Thee. Canst not deceive Galeazzo—ha-ha! between -me and You, Lord, between me and You! -Silence, thou dog monk! What dost thou here? -Escaped! by God, get back—the first word was mine—thou -art too late. What! damnation seize thee! Lord! he -scorns Thy judgment—catch him, hold him—he is there -by the door!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sprang to his feet, glaring and gesticulating.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Galeazzo!' exclaimed Bembo. The boy had mounted -to the closet unheard. It was his privilege to come -unannounced. He stood a moment regarding the madman -in amazement and pity, then hurried softly to his side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What is it? The face again?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His tone, his entreaty, dispelled the other's delirium. -The tyrant gazed at him a minute, slow recognition -dawning in his eyes; then, of a sudden, broke into a -thick fast flurry of sobs, and cast himself upon his -shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My saint,' he wept adoringly—'my Conscience, my -little angel! and I had thought thee—nay, but the sign -for which I prayed art thou given.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His emotion gushed inwardly, filling all his channels -to gasping. Presently he looked up, with a passionate -murmur and caress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Love, with thy red lips like a girl's! Would that my -own were worthy to marry with them.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo withdrew a little:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What wild words are these? Yet, peradventure, the -giddy babble of a conqueror. O Galeazzo! hast -triumphed o'er thyself indeed—casting that old -familiar? chasing him hereout? Why, then, I whom thou hast -appointed to be thy conscience, interpreting thy rule -through truth and love, am the more emboldened to -beseech the favour for which I came.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ask it only, sweet.' His chest still heaved -spasmodically to the catching of his breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is,' said the boy steadily, 'that thou wouldst give -me, thy conscience's delegate, a last justification by the -sacraments.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke smiled faintly, and nodded, and murmured: -'I will confess ere midnight, and, fasting, receive the -Holy Communion before I go to-morrow. Does it please -thee? Come, then.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He re-entered his cabinet, reeling a little, and sat -himself down, as if exhausted, by the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bernardo,' he said weakly, half apologetically, 'I am -overwrought: there is wine in that jug: I prithee give it -me to drink.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy, unhesitating, handed him the flagon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is the symbol of joy redeemed,' he said. 'Put thy -lips to the chalice, Galeazzo, and take what thy soul -needest—no more.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke lifted the cup shakily, stumbled at its brim, -steadied himself, and sipped. His eyes dilated and grew -wolfish—'I am vindicated,' he stuttered: 'O sweet little -saint!'—and he drank greedily, ecstatically, and, -smacking his lips, put down the vessel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was himself again from that draught.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bernardo,' he said, in a reassured, half-maudlin -confidence, 'canst thou read the stars?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' said the other gravely, 'they are the Sibyls' -books.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'True. Yet some essay.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay: then flies a comet, cancelling all their sums.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'An impious vanity, is it not?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Truly, I think so.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And deserving of the last chastisement.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Poor fools, they make their own.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, taking colds instead of rest—cramps, chills, and -agues—immense pains, and all for nothing; the dead -moon for the living sun; nursing all day that they may -starve by night. God gave us level eyes. The star's -best resting place for them is on a hill. We need no -more knowledge than to read beauty through the wise -lens Nature hath proportioned us. Not God Himself -can foretell a future.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not God?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, for there is no Future, nor ever will be. The -Past but eternally prolongs itself to the Present. Heaven -or hell is the road we tread, and must retrace when we -come to the brink of the abyss where Time drops sheer -into nothingness. Joy or woe, then, to him the returning -wanderer, according as he hath provisioned his way. So -shall he starve, or travel in content, or meet with weary -retributions. O, in providence, hold thy hand, thinking -on this, whenever thy hand is tempted!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Galeazzo was amazed, discomfited. This unorthodoxy -was the last to accommodate itself to his principles of -conduct. The Future to him was always an unmortgaged -reversion, sufficient to pay off all debts to -conscience and leave a handsome residue for income. He -could only exclaim, again, like one aghast: '</span><em class="italics">No Future</em><span>?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' said Bembo, smiling, 'what is the heresy to -reason or religion? To foresee the issues of to-day were, -for Omniscience, to suppress all strains but the angels'. -What irony to accept worship from the foredoomed! -What insensate folly wantonly to multiply the devil's -recruits! O Galeazzo, there is no Future for God or -Men? Hope shudders at the inexorable word: Evil -presumes on it: it is the lodestone to all dogmatism; -the bogey, the weapon of the unversed Churchman; the -very bait to acquisition and self-greed. Be what, -returning, ye would find yourselves—no lovelier ambition. -See, we walk with Christ, the human God and comrade, -I have but this hour left him bathing his tired feet in the -brook. He will follow anon; and all the pretty birds -and insects and wildflowers he watched while resting -will have suggested to him a thousand tales and -reflections gathered of an ancient lore. He can be full of -wonder too, but wiser by many moons than we. There -is no Future. God possesses the Past.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke sprang to his feet, and went up and down -once or twice. This view of a self-retaliatory entity—of -a returning body condemned by natural laws to -retraverse every point of its upward flight—disturbed him -horribly. He desired no responsibility in things done -and gone. Eternity, timely propitiated, was his golden -chance. He stopped and looked at Bembo, at once -inexpressibly cringing and crafty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bernardino,' murmured he: 'I can never get it out of -my head that whenever thou sayest God thou meanest -gods. </span><em class="italics">The gods possess the past?</em><span>—why, one would fancy -somehow it ran glibber than the other.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo sighed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, why not? Nature, and Love, and the Holy -Ghost—</span><em class="italics">Tria juncta in Uno</em><span>—why not gods?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke pressed his hand to his forehead; then ran -and clasped the boy about the shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Adorable little wisdom,' he cried: 'take my conscience, -and record on it what thou wilt!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'To-morrow,' said Bembo, with a happy smile: 'when -its tablets are sponged and clean.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Galeazzo fawned, showing his teeth. There was -something in him infinitely suggestive of the cat that, in -alternate spasms of animalism, licks and bites the hand -that caresses it. This strange new heresy of a limited -omniscience oddly affected him. Could it be possible, -after all, that the soul's responsibility was to itself alone? -In any case so pure a spirit as this could represent him -only to his advantage. Still, at the same time, if God -were no more than relatively wiser and stronger than -himself—why, it was not </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> theory—let the Parablist -answer for it—on Messer Bembo's saintly head fall the -onus, if any, of leaving Capello where he was. For his -own part, he told himself, the God of Moses remaining -in his old place in the heavens, he, Galeazzo, would have -been inclined to consider the virtuous policy of releasing -the Monk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so he prepared himself to confess and communicate.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-ix"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Duke of Milan, confessed, absolved, and his -conscience pawned to a saint, had, on the virtue -of that pledge, started in a humour of unbridled -self-righteousness for the territory of Vercelli. With him -went some four thousand troops, horse and footmen, a -drain of bristling splendour from the city; yet the roaring -hum of that city's life, and the flash and sting thereof, -were not appreciably lessened in the flying of its hornet -swarm. Rather waxed they poignant in the general sense -of a periodic emancipation from a hideous thralldom. -The tyrant was gone, and for a time the intolerable -incubus of him was lifted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, for the moment, there was something more—a -consciousness, within the precincts of the palace and -beyond them, of a substituted atmosphere, in which the -spirit experienced a strange self-expansion—other than -mere relief from strain—which was foreign to its -knowledge. Men felt it, and pondered, or laughed, or were -sceptical according as their temperaments induced them. -So, in droughty days, the little errant winds that blow -from nowhere, rising and falling on a thought, affect us -with a sense of the unaccountable. There was such a -sweet odd zephyr abroad in Milan. The queer question -was, Was the little gale a little mountebank gale, tumbling -ephemerally for its living, or did it represent a permanent -atmospheric change?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few days before Galeazzo's departure, Bernardo—by -special appointment </span><em class="italics">custos conscientiae ducalis</em><span>—had, while -walking in the outer ward of the Castello with Cicada, -happened upon the vision of a Franciscan monk, plump -and rosy, but with inflammatory eyes, entering with -Messer Jacopo through a private postern in the walls. -He had saluted the jocund figure reverentially, as one -necessarily sacred through its calling, and was standing -aside with doffed bonnet, when the other, halting with an -expression of good-humoured curiosity on his face, had -greeted him, puffed and asthmatic, in his turn:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Peace to thee, my son! Can this be he of whom it -might be said, "</span><em class="italics">Puer natus est nobis: et vocabitur nomen -ejus, Magni Consilii Angelus</em><span>"?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Franciscan had rumbled the query at Jacopo, who -had shrugged, and answered shortly: 'Well; 'tis Messer -Bembo.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So?' had responded the monk, gratified; 'the David -of our later generation?' and instantly and ingratiatory -he had waddled up, and, putting a prosperous hand on -Bernardo's shoulder, had bent to whisper hoarsely, and -quite audibly to Cicada, into the boy's ear:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Child—I know—I am to thank </span><em class="italics">thee</em><span> for this -summons.' Then, before Bembo, wondering, could respond: 'Ay, -ay; Saul's ears are opened to the truth. The stars -cannot lie. You sent for me, yourself their sainted -emissary, to confirm the verdict. What! I might have -failed to answer else. We know the Duke, eh? But, mum!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with these enigmatic words, and a roguish wink -and squeeze, he had hurried away again, following the -impatient summons of Jacopo, who was beckoning him -towards a flight of open stairs niched in the north -curtain, up which the two had thereon gone, and so -disappeared among the battlements.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then had Bernardo turned, humour battling with -reverence in his sensorium, and 'Cicca!' had exclaimed, -with a little click of laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Fool's answer had been prompt and emphatic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Cracked!' he had snapped, like a dog at a fly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who was he?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, curtail not his short lease. He is yet, and, -being, is the Fra Capello—may I die else.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, if he is, </span><em class="italics">what</em><span> is he?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, a short-of-breath monk; yet soon destined, if I -read him aright, to be a breathless monk.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, thou wilt only new-knot a riddle. I will follow -and ask the Provost-Marshal, though I love him not.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nor he thee, methinks. Hold back. The butcher -looks askance at the pet lamb. Well, what wouldst -thou? Of this same monkish rotundity, this hemisphere -of fat, this moon-paunch, this great blob of star-jelly, -this planet-counterfeiting frog, this astronomic globe -stuffed out with pasties and ortolans? Well, 'tis Fra -Capello, I tell thee, an astrologer, a diviner by the -stars—do I not aver it, though I have never set eyes on the -man before?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How know'st, then?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, true, my perspicacity is only this and that, a -poor matter of inferences. As, for example, the inference -of the fingers, that when I burn them, fire is near; or the -inference of the nose, that when I smell cooking fish, it is -a fast day; or the inference of the palate, that when I -drink water, I am a fool.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A dear wise fool.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, a wise fool, to know what one and one make. -Dost thou?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Two, to be sure.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, God fit thy perspicacity with twins, when thy -time comes. One out of one and one is enough for me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Peace! How know'st this holy father is an astrologer?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Inference, sir—merely inference. As, for example -again, the inference of the ears, that when I mark the -substance of his whisper to thee, I seem to remember -talk of a certain Franciscan, who, having predicted by -the stars short shrift for Galeazzo, and been invited to -come and discuss his reasons, did prove unaccountably -coy, though certainly seer to his own nativity. Imprimis, -the astrologer was reported a Conventual and fat; -whereby comes in the inference of the eye. Now, -"Ho-ho!" thinks I, "this same swag-bellied monk who babbles -of stars! Surely it is our Fra Capello? And hooked at -last? By what killing bait?"'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here he had touched the boy's shoulder swiftly, and -as swiftly had withdrawn his hand, an ineffable -expression, shrewd and caustic, puckering his face. Bembo -had looked serious.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Cicca! I do believe thou art madder than any -astrologer—unless——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No!' had cried the Fool; 'I am sober; wrong me not.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Bembo had repented lovingly:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Pardon, dear Cicca. But, indeed, I understand thee not.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why,' I said, 'what killing bait had tempted the -monk's shyness at length?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What, then?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thyself.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Art thou not a star-child and Galeazzo's protégé? -O, pretty, sweet decoy, to draw the astrologer from his -cloister!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dost mean that the Duke would use me to question -the truth of these predictions? Alas! not I, nor any -man, can interpret nothingness into a text.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wilt thou tell him so?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The Duke.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have told him so.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou hast? Then God keep the Franciscan in breath!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Amen!' had said Bembo, in all fervour and innocence. -He had thought the other to mean nothing more than -that the Duke was designing, on </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> authority, to win a -faulty brother from the heresy—as he construed it—of -divination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> construed it. Young and inexperienced as he -was, he had yet a prophet's purpose and vision—the -vision which, in despite of all traditional beliefs, looks -backwards. His soft eyes were steadfast to that end -which was the beginning. No sophistries could beguile -him from the essential truth of his kind creed. </span><em class="italics">He</em><span> was -an atavism of something vastly remoter than Caligula—than -any tyranny. He 'threw back' to the stock of -those first angels who knew the daughters of men—to -the first fruits of an amazed and incredible sorrow. By -so great a step was he close to the God his sires had -offended; was close to the parting of the ways between -earth and heaven, and with all the lore of the -since-accumulated ages to instruct him in his choice of roads. -O, believe little Bernardo that his was the true insight, -the true wisdom! There is no Future, nor ever will be. -The past but prolongs itself to the present; and all -enterprise, all yearning, are but to recover the ground we -have lost. That truth once recognised, the horror of -Futurity shall close its gates; its timeless wastes shall -be no more to us; and we—we shall be wandering back, -by æons of pathetic memories, to trace to its source the -love that gushed in Paradise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Three days later the boy—the Duke being gone—was -strolling, again with Cicada his shadow, on the ramparts. -It had become something his habit to take the air, after -hearing the morning causes, on these outer walls, whence -the tired vision could stretch itself luxuriantly on leagues -of peaceful plain. He liked then to be left alone, or at -the most to the sole company of his dogged henchman, -the erst Fool. Cicada's gruff but jealous sympathy was -an emollient to lacerated sensibilities; his wit was a -tonic; his tact the fruit of long necessity. No one would -have guessed, not gentle Bernardo himself, how the little, -ugly, caustic creature was, when most wilful or eccentric -in seeming, watching over and medicining his moods of -inevitable weariness or depression.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps he was in such a mood now—induced by that -passion of the irremediable which occasionally must -overtake every just judge—as he leaned upon the -battlements, his cheek propped on his palm, and gazed out -dreamily over the shining campagna.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Cicca,' he said suddenly, 'what made thee a Fool?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Circumstance,' answered the other promptly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah!' sighed Bembo—'that blind brute force of -Nature, wavering out of chaos. No agent of God—His -foe, rather, to be anticipated and circumvented. Providence -is the true wise name for our Master. He </span><em class="italics">provideth</em><span>, -of the immensity of His love, for and against. He can -do no further, nor foretell but by analogy the blundering -spites of Circumstance. But always He persuades the -monster of his interest lying more and more in sweet -order—dreams of him sleeping caged, a lazy, satiated -chimera, in the mid-gardens of love.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Che allegria!' said Cicada; 'I will go then, and poke -him in the ribs, and ask him why he made a Fool of me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo smiled and sighed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There is a proof of his blindness. What, in truth, -was thy origin, dear Cicca?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Fool came and leaned beside him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Canst look on me and ask? I was born in this dark -age of tyranny, and of it; I shall die in it and of it. I -have never known liberty. Sobriety and reason are -empty terms to me. Ask of me no fruit but the fruit of -mine inheritance. A drunken woman in labour will -bring forth a drunken child. I am Cicada the Fool, -lower than a slave, curst pimp to Folly.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Soft as a butterfly, Bernardo's hand fluttered to his -shoulder and rested there. The creature's dim eyes were -fixed upon the crawling plain; his face worked with -emotion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There was a time,' he said, 'I understand, when -governments were loyal at once to the individual and the -state—when they wrought for the common weal. In -those days, it would seem certain, riches—anything above -a specified income—must have disqualified a man for -office. It is the ideal constitution. Corruption will -enter else. Wealth, and the emulation of wealth, are the -moth in stored states. That was the age of the republics -and all the virtues. I am born, alack, after my time. I -have held Esau the first saint in the calendar. I am not -sure I do not do so now, Messer Bembo despite.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And I, too, love Esau,' said Bernardo quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cicada, amazed, whipped upon him; then suddenly -seized him in his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou dearest, most loving of babes!' he cried -rapturously; 'sweet saint of all to me! What! did I twit -thee, mine emancipator, with my curse to thralldom? -Loves Esau, quotha! No cant his creed. Child, thou -art asphodel to that cactus. Put thy foot on this mouth -that could so slander thee!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Poor Cicca!' said Bembo, gently disengaging himself. -'Thou rebukest sweetly my idle curiosity.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Curiosity!' cried the other. 'Would the angels -always showed as much! Thou art welcome to all -of me I can tell:—as, for example, that my mother—</span><em class="italics">exitus -acta probat</em><span>—was a fool, a sweet, pretty, vicious -fool; and yet, after all, not such a fool as, having borne, -to acknowledge me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Poor wretch! Why not?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why not? Why, for the reason Pasiphae concealed -her share in the Minotaur. Motley is the labyrinth of -Milan. My father was a bull.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, I am answered.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah! thou think'st I jest. Relatively—relatively only, -sir, I assure thee. Hast ever heard speak of Filippo -Maria, the last of the Visconti?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Little, alas! to his credit.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will answer in my person to that. He was uglier -than any bull—a monster so hideous as to be attractive -to a certain order of frailty. I inclined his way. -Perhaps that was my salvation. The child most interests -the parent whose features it reflects. It is bad-luck to -break a mirror; and so I was spared—for the labyrinth.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O infamous! He made thee his jester?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And fed me. Let that be remembered to him. -When the reckoning comes, the bull, not Pasiphae, shall -have my voice.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hideous! Thy mother?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let it pass on that. I need say no more, if a word -can damn.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Cicca!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He was meat and drink to me, I say.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Drink, alas!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He meant it kindly. When I sparkled, 'twas his -own wit he felt himself applauding. That was my -easy time. He died in '47, and my majesty's Fooldom -was appropriated incontinent to the titillation of these -peasants of Cotignola their hairy ears.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hush, and thou wilt be wise!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'In my grave, not sooner. Francesco, our Magnificent's -father, was so-so for humour—a good, blunt soldier, -who'd take his cue of laughter from some quicker wit, -then roar it out despotically. No sniggerer, like his son, -who qualifies all praise with envy. Shall I tell thee -how I lost Galeazzo's favour? He wrote a sonnet. -'Twas an achievement. A Roman triumph has been -ceded to less—hardly to worse. Lord, sir! there was -that applause and hand-clapping at Court! But -Wisdom looked sour. "What, fool!" demanded the -Duke: "dost question its merit?" "Nay," quoth -Wisdom; "but only the sincerity of the praise. Sign -thy next with my name, and mark its fate." He -did—actually. Poor Wisdom! as if it had been truth the -sonneteer desired! Never was poor doxy of a Muse -worse treated. This was exalted like the other; but -in a pillory. It made a day's sport for the mob, at -my expense. Was not that pain and humiliation enough? -But Galeazzo must visit upon me the rage of his -mortification. Well, when he was done with me, -Messer Lanti, high in favour, begged the remnant of -my folly, and it was thrown to him. The story leaked -out; I had had so many holes cut in me. It had been -wiser to seal my lips with kindness. But the Duke, as -you may suppose, loves me to this day.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he spoke, they turned an angle of the battlements, -and saw advancing towards them, smiling and -insinuative, the figure of Tassino. Bernardo started, in -some wonder. He had not set eyes on this dandiprat -since his public condemnation of him, and, if he thought -of him at all, had believed him gone to make the -restitution ordered. Now he gazed at him with an expression -in which pity and an instinctive abhorrence fought for -precedence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The young man was brilliantly, even what a later -generation would have called 'loudly,' dressed. He -had emerged from his temporary pupation a very -tiger-moth; but the soul of the ignoble larva yet obtained -between the gorgeous wings. Truckling, insinuative, -and wicked throughout, he accosted his judge with a -servile bow, as he stood cringing before him. Bembo -mastered his antipathy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What! Messer cavalier,' he said, struggling to be -gay. 'Art returned?'—for he guessed nothing of the -truth. Then a kind thought struck him. 'Perchance -thou comest as a bridegroom, </span><em class="italics">bene meritus</em><span>.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tassino glanced up an instant, and lowered his eyes. -How he coveted the frank audacity of the Patrician -swashbuckler, with which he had been made acquainted, -but which he found impossible to the craven meanness -of his nature. To dare by instinct—how splendid! No -doubt there is that fox of self-conscious pusillanimity -gnawing at the ribs of many a seeming-brazen upstart. -He twined and untwined his fingers, and shook his head, -and sobbed out a sigh, with craft and hatred at his heart. -Bernardo looked grave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas, Messer Tassino!' said he: 'think how every -minute of a delayed atonement is a peril to thy soul.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This sufficed the other for cue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Atone?' he whined: 'wretch that I am! How could -a hunted creature do aught but hide and shake?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hunted!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O Messer Bembo! 'twas so simple for you to let loose -the mad dog, and blink the consequences for others.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mad dog!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now don't, for pity's sake, go quoting my rash simile. -Hast not ruined me enough already?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas, good sir! What worth was thine estate so -pledged? I had no thought but to save thee for heaven.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And so let loose the Duke, that Cerberus? O, I am -well saved, indeed, but not for heaven! Had it not -been for the good Jacopo taking me in and hiding me, -I had been roasting unhousel'd by now.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tassino, thou dost the Duke a wrong. 'Twas thy -fear distorted thy peril. He is a changed man, and most -inclined to charity and justice.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tassino let his jaw drop, affecting astonishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Since when?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Since the day of thy disgrace.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other shook his head, with a smile of growing -effrontery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, look you, Messer Bembo,' he said: 'you represent -his conscience, they tell me, and should know. Yet -may not a man and his conscience, like ill-mated -consorts, be on something less than speaking terms?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed, half insolent, half nervous, as Bernardo -regarded him in silence with earnest eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Supposing,' said he, 'you were to represent, of your -holy innocence and credulity, a little more and a little -sweeter than the truth? Think'st thou I should -have dared reissue from my hiding, were Galeazzo still -here to represent his own? If I had ever thought to, -there was that buried a week ago in the walls yonder -would have stopped me effectively.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Buried—in the walls! What?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dost not know? Then 'tis patent he is not all-confiding -in his conscience. And yet thou shouldst know. -'Tis said thou lead'st him by the nose, as St. Mark the -lion. Well, I am a sinner, properly persecuted; yet, -to my erring perceptives, 'tis hard to reconcile thy -saintship with thy subscribing to his sentence on a poor -Franciscan monk, a crazy dreamer, who came to him -with some story of the stars.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O, I cry you mercy! I quote Messer Jacopo, who -was present. "Deserving of the last chastisement"—were -not those thy words? And Omniscience -dethroned—a bewildered mortal like ourselves? Anyhow, -he held thy saintship to justify his sentence on -the monk.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What sentence?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wilt thou come and see? I have my host's pass.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He staggered under the shock of a sudden leap and -clutch. Young strenuous hands mauled his pretty -doublet; sweet glaring eyes devoured his soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I see it in thy face! O, inhuman dogs are ye all! -Show me, take me to him!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tassino struggled feebly, and whimpered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let go: I will take thee: I am not to blame.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Shaking, but exultant in his evil little heart, he broke -loose and led the way to a remote angle of the battlements, -where the trunk of a great tower, like the drum -of a hinge, connected the northern and eastern curtains. -This was that same massy pile in whose bowels was -situate the dreadful oubliette known as the 'Hermit's -Cell': a grim, ironic title signifying deadness to the -world, living entombment, utter abandonment and -self-obliteration. It was delved fathoms deep; quarried out -of the bed-rock; walled in further by a mountain of -masonry. Tyranny sees an Enceladus in the least of -its victims. On so exaggerated a scale of fear must the -sum of its deeds be calculated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here the Provost-Marshal had his impregnable -quarters. Looking down, one might see the huge blank -bulge of the tower enter the pavement below unpierced -but by an occasional loop or eyelet hole. Its only -entrance, indeed, was from the rampart-walk; its direct -approach by way of the flying stair-way, up which -Bembo had seen the monk disappear. His heart burned -in his breast as he thought of him. There was a fury -in his blood, a sickness in his throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A sentry, lounging by the door, offered, as if by -preconcert with Tassino, no bar to his entrance. But, -when Cicada would have followed, he stayed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Back, Fool!' he said shortly, opposing his halberd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cicada struggled a moment, and desisted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A murrain on thy tongue,' snapped he, 'that calls -me one!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sentry laughed, and, having gained his point, -produced a flask leisurely from his belt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What! art thou not a fool?' said he, unstoppering it, -and preparing to drink.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Understand, I have forsworn all liquor,' said Cicada, -with a wry twinkle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So art thou certainly a fool,' said the sentry, eye and -body guarding the doorway, as he raised the horn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hist!' whispered Cicada, staying him: 'this -remoteness—that damning gurgle—come! a ducat for a -mouthful! Be quick, before he returns!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The soldier, between cupidity and good-nature, -laughed and handed over the flask. 'Done on that!' -said he. But on the instant he roared out, as the other -snatched and bolted with his property.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How, thou bloody filcher! Give me back my wine!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cicada crowed and capered, dangling his spoil.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Judas! for a dirty piece of silver to betray temperance!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sentry, with a furious oath, made at him. He -dodged; eluded; finally, under the very hands of his -pursuer, threw the flask into a corner, and, as the other -dived for it, slipped by and disappeared into the tower. -The soldier, cursing and panting in his wake, ran into -the arms of an impassive figure—staggered, fell back, -and saluted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Messer Jacopo eyed the delinquent a long minute -without a word. He had been silent witness, within the -guard-room, of all the little scene, and was considering -the penalty meet to such a breach of orders and -discipline.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There had been something of pre-arrangement in this -matter between him and Messer Tassino. The two were -in a common accord as to the loss and inconvenience to -be entailed upon themselves by any reform of existing -institutions—comprehensively, as to the menace this -stranger was to their interests. It would be well to -demonstrate to him the unreality of his influence with -Galeazzo. Let him see the starving monk, in evidence -of his power's short limits. It was possible the sight -might kill his presumption for ever: return him -disillusioned to obscurity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So his presence here had been procured, with orders -to the sentry to debar the Fool. Jacopo wanted no -shrewd cricket at the boy's side, to leaven the horror -for him with his song of cheer. The full impressiveness -of the awful scene must be allowed to overbear his -soul in silence. This sentry had erred rather foolishly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It abated nothing of the terror of the man that no -sign of passion ever crossed his face, nor word his lips. -He turned away, not having uttered a sound; and left -the delinquent collapsed as under a heat-stroke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now, let it be no worse than the strappado!' prayed -the poor wretch to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the meanwhile, Cicada, swift, quivering, alert, was -descending, like a gulped Jonah, into the bowels of the -tower. He had no need to pick his path: the -well-stairway, like a screw pinning the upper to the -underworld, transmitted to him every whisper and shuffle of -the footsteps he was pursuing. Sometimes, so deceptive -were the echoes in that winding shaft, he fancied himself -treading close upon the heels of the chase; yet each -little loop-lighted landing found him, as he reached it, -audibly no nearer. His mocking mouth was set grim; -he dreaded, not for himself but for his darling, some -nameless entrapping wickedness. 'If they design it,' he -thought—'if they design it! Hell shall not hide them -from me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly the sounds below died away and ceased. -He listened an instant; then went down again, turning -and turning in a nightmare of blind horror. The walls -grew dank and viscous to his palm. A stumble, and -all might end for him hideously. Then, at the same -moment, weak light and a weaker cry greeted him. He -descended, still without pause—and shot into the -glowing mouth of a tiny tunnel, where were the figures he -sought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They stood at a low grating in the wall, which was -pierced into a subterranean chamber. The bars were -thrown open, and through the aperture Tassino directed -the light of a flaring torch he held upon a figure lying -prostrate on the stones below. Cicada crept, and peered -over his master's shoulder. The thing on the floor -was grotesque, unnatural—a human skeleton emitting -noises, heaving in its midst. That great bulk had -become in its shrinkage a monstrous travesty of life. -But existence still preyed upon its indissoluble -vestments of flesh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He clings to life, for a monk,' whispered the Fool.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the sound of his voice, Bernardo was sprung into -a Fury. He lashed upon Cicada, tooth and claw:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou knew'st, and hid it from me in parables!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Inference, inference!' cried the Fool. 'I would have -spared thee.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Spared </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>? Thus?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah! thy shame through wicked sophistries! He -was foredoomed. Had I interfered, I had been lying -myself there now, and you a loving servant the less.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo flung his arms abroad, as if sweeping all away -from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Love! Let pass!' he shrieked: 'Fiends are ye all, -with whom to breathe is poison!' and he broke by them, -and went flying and crying up into the daylight. He ran, -without pause, by the walls, down the notched stairway, -across the ward, and came with flaming colour into the -buttery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Give me wine and bread!' he screamed of the steward -there; and the man, in a flurry of wonder, obeyed him. -Then away he raced again, his hands full, and never -stopped until the sentry, a new one, at the tower door -barred his progress. The way was private, quoth the -man. He could let none past but by order.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Of whom?' panted Bembo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, the Provost-Marshal.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the boy tried wheedling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dear soldier: thou art well cared for. There is one -within perishes for a little bread.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the man was adamant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Where, then, is the Provost-Marshal?' cried the other -in desperation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Within or without—the sentry professed not to know. -In any case, it was death to him to leave his post.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bernardo put down his load on the battlements, and, -turning, fled away again.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-x"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Bona sat amongst her maidens. They were all -busy as spiders upon a loom of tapestry, spinning -a symbolic web. The subject was as edifying as -their talk over it was free. Their lips and fingers were -perpetually at odds, weaving reputations and pulling -them to pieces. Bona herself said little; but abstraction -gave some indulgence to the smile with which she -listened, or seemed to.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Whither do her thoughts travel?' whispered one girl -of another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hush!' was the answer. 'Along the Piedmont Road -with her lord, of course. What else would you?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The first giggled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nothing, indeed, if it left a chance for poor little me. -But, alack! I fear her charity stops nearer home.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What then, insignificance? Would your presumption -fly at an angel?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, indeed, though it got a peck for its pains. (Mark -the Caprona's ear pricked our way! She knows we are -on the eternal subject.) Heigho! it will be something to -share in this promised commonwealth of love, at least.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She spoke loud enough for the little Catherine Sforza, -sitting by her adopted mother, to hear her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ehi, Carlina,' cried that pert youngster: 'What share -do you expect for your small part?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I thought of Messer Bembo, Madonna,' answered -Carlina demurely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They crowed her down with enormous laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, child,' said Catherine: 'there is to be no talk of -exclusiveness in this Commonwealth. We are all to take -alike—Mamma, and I, and the Countess of Casa Caprona, -and whoever else subscribes to the Purification. For my -part I shall be content with becoming very good; and I -have hopes of myself. See the reformation in our dear -Countess; and she was in his company but a day or two.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Peace, thou naughtiness!' cried Bona; while Beatrice's -eyes burned dull fire; and a girl, one who worked near -her, a soft and endearing little piety, looked up and -choked in a panic, 'O Madonna!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Catherine mimicked her:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O Biasia! Is the subject too tender for thy -conscience? Alas, dear! but if thy only hope is in this -Commonwealth? Angels are not monogamous.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Biasia blushed like a poppy; yet managed to stammer -amidst the laughter: 'It is only that he,—that the -subject, seems to me too sacred. He preaches heavenly -love—the brotherhood of souls—in all else, one man one maid.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Catherine very gravely got upon a stool, and -paraphrased Messer Bembo, voice and manner:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I kiss thee, kind Madonna, for thine exposition. A -man must put a fence about his desires, would he be -happy. A sweet mate, a cot, beehives and a garden—he -shall find all love's epitome in these. None can -possess the world but in the abstract—a plea for -universal brotherhood. What doth it profit me to own a -palace, and live for all my needs' content in one room of -it? Go to and join, and leave superfluous woman to the -preacher.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some tittered, some applauded; Biasia hung her head, -and would say no more. Bona cried, 'Come down, thou -wickedness!' but indulgently, as if she half-dreaded -attracting to herself the flicker of the little forked tongue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O!' cried Catherine, 'I grant you that, with an -angel, the manner spices the lesson. I will tell you, -girls, how he rebuked me yesterday on this same legend -of reciprocity. "How could you take sport," says he, -"of witnessing that poor Montano's punishment?" "Why, -very well," says I, "seeing he was a man, and -therefore my natural enemy." "How is man so?" says -he. "He makes me bear his children for him," says I. -"But I suppose he will be made to suffer </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> share of the -toil in this new Commonwealth of love." "You talk like -a child," he says. "Then," says I, "I will sing like a -woman," and I extemporised—very clever, you will admit.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She pinched up her skirts, and put out a little foot, -and chirruped, in no voice at all, but with a sauce of -impudence:—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'"Love is give and take," says he,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Every gander knows—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Wear the prickle for my sake;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For thine, I'll wear the rose."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Grazie</em><span>, kind and true," says I,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"For that noble dower—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Only, between me and you,</span></div> -<div class="line"><em class="italics">I</em><span> should like the flower."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"And hast thou not it?" cries St. Bernardo, interrupting -me; and, would you believe it, swinging round his -lute, his lips and his finger-tips join issue in the prettiest -nonsense ever conceived for a poor wife's fooling. Wait, -and I will recall it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had the quickest wit and memory, and in a -moment was chaunting:—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'"Whence did our bird-soft baby come?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>How learned to prattle of this for home?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Some sleepy nurse-angel let her stray,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she found herself in the world one day.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>She heard nurse calling, and further fled:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She hid herself in our cabbage bed.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>There we came on her fast asleep,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>What could we do but take and keep,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Carry her in and up the stair?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She would have died of cold out there.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>She woke at once in a little fright;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But Love beckoned her from the light.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Lure we had lit, for dear love fain;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She had seen it shine through the window pane.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Lure we had kindled of flame and bliss,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To catch such a little ghost-moth as this.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Ah, me! it shrivelled her pretty wing.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Here she must stay, poor thing, poor thing!"'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>She ended: 'Faith, St. Charming's lips make that -daintiest setting to his fancies, that I could have kissed -'em while he improved his song with a homily' (she -mimicked again the boy's manner, comically emphasised). -'"Why," saith he, "would you grudge yourself that poignant -privilege of your sex? would ye share the agony and -halve the gain? What gift so careless in all the world -makes such sweet possession? Furs, gowns, and trinkets -pall; perishable things grow less by use; the diamond -suffers by its larger peer. Only the gift of love, the wee -babe, takes new delight of time; renews woman's best -through herself; is a perpetual novelty, spring all the -year round, flowers fresh burgeoning through faded -blooms. To be sole warden of the quickening soul ye -bore—you, you! to see the lamb-like heaven of its -eyes cuddling to your bosom's fold—all thine, save the -spent heat that cast it! O, rather be the mould than -the turbulent metal it shapes! Go to, and thank God -for labours yielding such reward. Go to, and be the -mother of saints." Whereat I curtsied, and "Thank you, -sir," says I, "for the offer, but my bed's already laid -for me in Rome," and then——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What more she might have quoted or invented none -might say, for at the moment a wild figure burst into -the chamber, and ran to its mistress, and entreated her -with lips and hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Give me thy gage—quick! There is one starves in -the "Hermit's Cell," and they will not let me pass to him -without. Thou art the Duke, thou art the Duke now. -Give it me, in mercy, and avert God's vengeance from -this wicked house!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bona had arisen, pale as death, pity and anguish -pleading in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas! What say'st thou? Thou, not I, art the Duke.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Give it me,' demanded Bembo feverishly. 'Nay, -quibble not, while he gasps out his agony—a -monk—hear'st thou? A monk!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She temporised a moment in her pain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There are black sheep in those flocks.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'God forgive thee!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas! </span><em class="italics">thou</em><span> wilt not. Indeed I have no talisman will -open doors that my lord has shut.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beatrice, intent, with veiled eyes, from her place, -bestirred herself with an indolent smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Madonna forgets. Love laughs at locksmiths.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two women faced one another a minute. Some -subtle emotion of antagonism, already born, waxed into -a larger consciousness between them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How, Countess?' said Bona quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Madonna wears her bethrothal ring—a very </span><em class="italics">passepartout</em><span>. -It is the talisman will serve her with monks -and saints alike.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A little flush mantled to the Duchess's brow. -Standing erect a moment she slipped the ring from her finger, -and held it out to Bernardo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It should be the pledge through love of Charity. -Take it, in my lord's good name, whose jealous -representative I remain. And when thou return'st it, may it -be sanctified of new justice, child, against the prick of -envy and slander and the spite of venomous tongues.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned away stately and resumed her needle as -Bernardo, with a cry of thanks, ran from the room. A -minute or two later he appeared before the sentry on the -ramparts and flourished his token. To his surprise the -man hardly glanced at it as he stepped aside to let him -pass. He thought on this with some shapeless foreboding, -as he leapt like a chamois down the steeps of the -tower, the food, which he had snatched up, in his hands. -God pity him and his awakening! There are emotions -too sacred for minuting. Let it suffice that Jacopo had -proved too faithful a prophylactic to superstition. The -wretched monk had not been allowed to justify his own -prediction by dying of starvation. In that last interval, -between the Parablist's going and coming, his throat -had been cut.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A minute later Bernardo leapt like a madman from -the tower. His face was ashy, his hands trembling. At -the foot of the curtain he stumbled over a poor patch, -prostrate and moaning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">I am thy Fool, and I shall never make thee smile again</em><span>.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All quivering and unstrung, he threw himself on his -knees by Cicada's side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Up!' he screamed, 'up! Get you out of this Sodom -ere the Lord destroy it!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Fool bestirred himself, raising eyes full of a -sombre, eager questioning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am forgiven?' he gasped; but Bernardo only cried -frenziedly, 'Up! up!'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xi"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>There was consternation in the castello, for its -angel visitant had disappeared. The evening -following upon the episode of the ring saw his quarters -void of him, his household retinue troubled and anxious, -and some others in the palace at least as perturbed. It -was not alone that the individual sense of stewardship -towards so rare a possession filled each and all with -forebodings as to the penalty likely to be exacted should -Galeazzo return to a knowledge of his loss; the loss -itself of so sweet and cleansing a personality was blighting. -Now, for the first time, perhaps, people recognised -the real political significance of that creed which they -had been inclined hitherto merely to pet and humour as -the whimsey of a very engaging little propagandist. -How sweet and expansive it was! how progressive by -the right blossoming road of freedom! Where was their -silver-tongued guide? And they flew and buzzed, agitated -like a bee-swarm that has lost its queen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, while they scurried aimless, a rumour of the truth -rose like a foul emanation, and, circulating among them, -darkened men's brows and drove women to a whispering -gossip of terror. So yet another of the Duke's inhumanities -was at the root of this secession! By degrees the -secret leaked out—of that living entombment, of the -boy's interference, of his bloody forestalling by the -executioner, of his flight, accompanied by his Fool, from -the gates. And now he was gone, whither none knew; -but of a certainty leaving the curse of his outraged suit -on the house he had tried to woo from wickedness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The story gained nothing in relief as it grew. Whispers -of that free feminine bandying with their Parablist's -name, of Catherine's childish mockery of a sacred -sentiment, deepened the common gloom. It mattered nothing -to the general opinion that this little vivacious Sforza -had but echoed its own bantering mood. Every popular -joke that spells disaster must have its scapegoat. And -she was not liked. In the absence of her father there were -even venturings of frowning looks her way, which, when -she observed, the shrewd elfin creature did not forget.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Bernardo returned not that night, nor during all -the following day was he heard of. Inquiries were set -on foot, scouts unleashed, the sbirri warned: he remained -undiscovered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Messer Carlo Lanti went about his business with a -brow of thunder. Once, on the second day, traversing, -dark in cogitation, a lonely corner of the castle enceinte, -he came upon a figure which, as it were some apparition -of his thoughts suddenly materialised, shocked him to a -stand. The walls in this place met in a sunless, abysmal -wedge; and, gathered into the hollow between, the waters -of the canal, welling through subterranean conduits, made -a deep head for the moat. And here, gazing down at her -reflection, it seemed, in that black stone-framed mirror, -stood Beatrice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was plainly conscious, for all her deep abstraction -of the moment before, of his approach, yet neither spoke -nor so much as turned her head as he came and stood -beside her. It must have been some startle more than -human that had found her nerves responsive to its shock. -Her languor and indolence seemed impregnable, insensate, -revealing no token of the passion within. Like the warm, -rich pastures which sleep over swelling fires, the placid -glow of her cheek and bosom appeared never so fruitful -in desire as when most threatening an outburst. Carlo, -for all his rage of suspicion, could not but be conscious of -that appeal to his senses. He frowned, and shifted, and -grunted, while she stood tranquilly facing him and fanning -herself without a word. At length he broke silence:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I had wished to see thee alone'—he stared fixedly -and significantly at the water, struggling to bully himself -into brutality—'Nay, by God and St. Ambrose,' he burst -out, 'I believe we are well met in this place!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not a tremor shook her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alone?' she murmured sleepily. 'Why not? there -was not used to be this ceremony between us.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have done with all that,' he cried fiercely. 'I see -thee now—myself, at least, in the true light. -Harlot! wouldst have turned my hand against the angel that -revealed thee! Where is he? Hast struck surer the -second time? I know thee—and if——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He seized her wrist and turned her to the water. She -did not resist or cry out, though her cheek flushed in the -pain of his cruel clutch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Know me!' she said. 'Didst thou ever know me? -Only as the bull knows the soft heifer—the nearest to his -needs. </span><em class="italics">Thou</em><span> hast done with me—</span><em class="italics">thou</em><span>! I tell thee, if -Fate had made a sacrament of thy passion, yielding the -visible sign, I had brought hither the monstrous pledge -and drowned it like a dog. Do we so treat what we -love? I am not guilty of Bernardo's death, if that is -what you mean.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He let her go, and retreated a step, glaring at her. -Her blood ebbed and flowed as tranquilly as her low -voice had stabbed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This—to my face!' he gasped. Then he broke into -furious laughter. 'Art well requited, if it is the truth. -Love him! But, dead or alive, he will not love -thee—that saint—a wife dishonoured.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O noble bull—thou king of beasts!' she murmured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why should I be generous?' he snarled. 'Have I -reason to spare thee? Yet I will be generous, an thou -art guiltless of this, Beatrice. I have loved thee, after my -fashion.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou hast. Ah! If I might sponge away that memory!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, I would fain do the same for his sake.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dog!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Barest thou talk of love?—thou, who hast rolled me -in thine arms, and waked from sated ecstasy to call me -murderess!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Had I not provocation, then? Faith, you bewilder me!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Poor, stupid brute!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Stupid I may be, yet not so blind as woman's folly. -Hast borne me once, Beatrice. Well, it is past: I ask -nothing of it but thy trust.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">My trust!</em><span>'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, when I warn thee. This saint is not for thee. -O, I am wide awake! Stupid? like enough; but when a -wife, the queenliest, parts with her betrothal ring——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She made a quick, involuntary gesture, stepping -forward; then as suddenly checked herself, with a soft, -mocking laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O this bull!' she cried huskily—'this precisian of the -new cult! Not for me, quotha, but for another—a saint -to all but the highest bidder!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not for you nor any one,' he said savagely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What! not Bona either?' she said. 'Be warned by -me, rather. Yours is no wit for this encounter. Love is -a coil, dear chuck; no battering-ram. Not for me nor -any? Maybe; but the game is in the strife. Go, find -your saint: I know nothing of him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, nor shall. Be warned, I say.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, you have said it, and more than once.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He hesitated, ground his teeth, clapped his hands -together, and turning, left her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glooming and mumbling, he went back to the palace. -A page met him with the message that the Duchess of -Milan desired his attendance. He frowned, and went, as -directed, to her private closet. He found Bona alone, -busy, or affecting to be busy, over a strip of embroidery. -She greeted him chilly; but it was evident that nervousness -rather than hauteur kept her seated. He saluted -her coldly and silently, awaiting her pleasure. She -glanced once or twice at the closed portière; then braced -herself to the ordeal with a rather quivering smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This is a sad coil, Messer Carlo.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He answered gruffly:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If I understand your Grace.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She put the quibble by.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We, you and I, are in a manner his guardians—accountable -to the Duke.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I can understand your Grace's anxiety,' he said shortly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nevertheless, it was not I introduced him to the -court,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But only to some of its secrets,' he responded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I do not understand you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is very plain, Madonna. You gave him the key to -that discovery.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She rose at once, breathing quickly, her cheeks white.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, Messer! in heaven's name procure me the return -of my ring!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her voice was quite pitiful, entreating. He looked at -her gloomily, gnawing his upper lip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Madonna commands? I will do my best to find and -take it from him, alive or dead.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She fell back with a little crying gasp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Find him—yes.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No more?' he demanded grimly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I thought you loved him?' she gulped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Too well,' he answered, 'to be your go-between.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She uttered a fierce exclamation, and clenched her -hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go, sir!' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned at once. She came after him, fawning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good Messer Carlo, dear lord,' she breathed weepingly; -'nay, thou art a loyal and honest friend. Forgive me. -We are all in need of forgiveness.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He faced about again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Penitence is blasphemy without reform,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah me! it is. How well thou hast caught the sweet -preacher's style. Hast </span><em class="italics">thou</em><span> reformed?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, in the worst.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou hast made an enemy of thy mistress? Poor -Bembo, poor child! He will need a mother.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wouldst thou be that to him?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What else? Get me my ring.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Beatrice hates him——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She would, the wretch, for his parting you and her.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Or loves him—I don't know which.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wanton! how dare she?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, if you will play the mother to him——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is he not a child to adore? Ah me! to be foster-parent -to that boon-comrade of the Christ!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo looked at her with some satisfaction darkling out -of gloom. His honest hot brain was no Machiavellian -possession; his temper was the travail of a warm heart. -He believed this woman meant honestly; and so, no -doubt, she did in her loss, not considering, or choosing -not to consider, the emotionalism of regain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, Madonna,' said he, kindling, ''tis the most -covetable relation. Who but a Potiphar's wife would -associate what we call love with this Joseph? God! a -look of him will make me blush as I were a brat caught -stealing sugar. There is that in him, we blurt out the -truth in the very act of hiding it. A child to adore? Is -he not, now, the dear put? and to hearken to and imitate -what we can. Ay, and more—to shield with this arm—let -men beware. Only the women harass me, this way -and that. Their loves and hates be like twin babes. -None but their dam can tell each from the other. -Therefore, would ye mother him—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And cherish and protect—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And of your woman's wisdom keep skirts at a distance—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will promise that most.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, I will bring him back to thee, ring and all, -though I turn Milan upside down first.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bowed and was going; but she detained him, with -sycophant velvet eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dear lord, so kind and loyal. Tell him that without -him we find ourselves astray.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tell him that from this moment his Duchess will aid -and abet him in all his reforms.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will tell him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ask him—' she hesitated, and turned away her sweet -head—'doth he seek to retaliate on his mistress's innocent -confidence, that, by absenting himself, he would turn it to -her undoing?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo grunted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'By your Grace's leave, an I find him, I will put it my way.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She acquiesced with a meek, lovely smile, and the -words of the Mass: '</span><em class="italics">Ite, missa est!</em><span>'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And when he was gone, she sighed, and looked in a -mirror and murmured to herself in a semi-comedy of -grief: 'Alas! too weak to be Messalina! I must be -good if he asks me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, being weak, she let her thoughts drift.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In a street of the quarter Giovia the armourer Lupo -had his smithy. He had been a notable artisan in -a town famous for its steel and niello work; but in his -age, as in any, a plethora of fine production must cheapen -the value of the individual producer. Therefore when a -vengeful caprice blinded him, and his door remained shut -and his chimney ceased to smoke, patronage transferred -its custom to the next house or street without a qualm; -and his achievements in his particular business were -forgotten, or confounded with those of fellow-craftsmen, -deriving, perhaps, in their art from him. It was a -sample of that banal heartlessness of society, which in a -moral age breeds collectivists, and desperadoes in an age -of lawlessness. And of the two one may pronounce the -latter the more logical.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In Milan men came quickly to maturity, whether in -the art of forging a blade or using it. Life flamed up -and out on swift ideals of passion. Parental love, high -education, the intricate cults of beauty and chivalry, were -all gambling investments in a speculative market. The -odds were always in favour of that old broker Death. -Yet the knowledge abated nothing of the zeal. It was -strange to be so fastidious of the terms of so hazardous a -lease. One might be saving, just, virtuous—one's -life-tenancy was not made thereby a whit securer. The -ten commandments lay at the mercy of a dagger-point; -wherefore men hurried to realise themselves timely, -and to cram the stores of years into a rich banquet or -two.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Master Lupo, a sincere workman and a conscientious, -was flicked in one moment off his green leaf into the -dust. There, maimed and helpless, the tears for ever -welling in his empty sockets, he cogitated tremulously, -fiercely, the one sentiment left to him, revenge—revenge -not so primarily on the instrument of his ruin, as on -Tassino </span><em class="italics">through</em><span> the system which had made such a -creature possible. He lent his darkened abode to be the -nest to one of those conspiracies, which are never far to -gather in despotic governments, and which opportunity -in his case showed him actually at hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cola Montano, it has been said, had been borne away -after his scourging by some women of the people. Grace, -or pity, or fear was in their hearts, and they nursed him. -Scarcely for his own sake; for, democracy being -impersonal, he was at no trouble to be a grateful patient. -He took their ministries as conceded to a principle, and -individually was as surly and impatient with them as any -ill-conditioned cur.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Recovering betimes (the dog had a tough hide), he -learned of neighbour Lupo's condition, and walked -incontinently into that wretched artificer's existence. He -found a blind and hopeless wreck, shelves of rusting -armour, a forge of dead embers, and, brooding sullen -beside it, a girl too plainly witnessing to her own -dishonour. He heard the rain on the roof; he saw the set -grey mother creeping about her work; and he sat himself -down by the sightless armourer, and peered hungrily into -his swathed face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dost know me, Lupo? I am Montano.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The miserable man groaned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Master Collegian? Stands yet thy school of -philosophy? A' God's name, lay something of that on this -hot bandage!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The school stands in its old place, armourer; but its -doors, like thine, are shut. What then? Its principles -remain open to all.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The poor wretch put out a hand, feeling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Where art thou? Have thy wounds healed so quickly? -Mine are incurable.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What!' croaked Montano jeeringly, 'with such a -salve to allay them! I heard of it—logic meet to an -angel—to renew thine image through her yonder. -Marry, sir! conception runs before the law. Hast -chased thy likeness down and taken it to church? -Mistress Lucia there would seem a sullen bride. Hath -her popinjay come and gone again? Well, you must be -content with the legitimising.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The armourer writhed in answering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What think you? There has been none. Mock not -our misery. Is it the concern of angels to see their -sentences enforced?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, but to be called angels. Heaven is not easy -surfeited with adulation.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He was glorified in his judgment; and there, for us, -the matter ended.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not quite.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pedagogue bent his evil head to look again into -that woful face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lupo, my school is closed; alumnus loiters in the -streets. Shall he come in here?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was something so significant in his tone that -the broken man he addressed started, as if a hand had -been laid on his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'For what? Who is he?' he muttered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will tell you anon,' answered Montano. 'No prelector -but hath his favourite pupils. He, alumnus, is in -this case threefold—three dear homeless scholars of mine, -Lupo, needing a rallying-place in which to meet and -mature some long-discussed theory of social cure. I -have heard from them since—since my illness. They -chafe to resume their studies and their mentor—honest, -good fellows, confessing, perhaps, to a heresy or so.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Master,' muttered the armourer, 'you will do no harm -to be explicit.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Shall I not? Well, if you will, and by grace of an -example, such a heresy, say, as that, when the devil rules -by divine right, the God who nominated him is best -deposed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, yes, to be sure. That is blasphemy as well as -heresy. But I think of Messer Bembo, who is still His -minister, and I believe your pupils go too far.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, what hath this minister done for you?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Very much, in intention.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, I thought that was said to pave the other place; -but, in truth, the issues of all things are confounded, since -we have an angel for the Lord's minister and a devil for -His vicegerent.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Pity of God! are they not? And ye would resolve -them by deposing the Christ—by knocking out the very -keystone of hope?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, by substituting a rock for a crumbling brick.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What rock?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The people.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Might they not, too, elect a tyrant to be their -representative?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How could tyranny represent a commonwealth?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A commonwealth! It is out, then! It is not God -ye would depose, but Galeazzo. Commonwealth! Is -that a name for keeping all men under a certain height? -But the giant will dictate the standard, and any one may -reach to him who can. Messer Montano, I seem to have -heard of a republican called Cæsar.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then you must have heard of another called Brutus?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, to be sure; and of a third called Octavian.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Those were distracted times, my friend.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And what are these? Have you ever heard of the -times when a man's interest was one with his neighbour's? -Besides, the flame of art burns never so sprightly as under -a despot. It finds no fuel in uniformity—each man equal -to his neighbour.' He put out groping hands pitifully. -'I loved my art,' he quavered. 'They might have spared -me to it!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Montano bit his lip scornfully. It was on his tongue to -spurn this spiritless creature. But he suppressed himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What would you, then?' he demanded; 'you, the -wretched victim of the system you commend?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah!' sighed Lupo, 'ideally, Messer, an autocracy, -with an angel at its head.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The philosopher laughed harshly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why,' he sneered, 'there is your ideal come to hand. -Be plain. Shall we depose a tyrant, and elect in his place -this new-arrived, this divine boy, as ye all title him?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why not?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Montano started and stared at the speaker. There -was suggestion here—of a standard for innovation; of a -rallying-point for reform. A republic, like a despotism, -might find its telling battle-cry in a saint. The boy, as -representing the liberty of conscience, was already a -subject of popular adoration. Why should they not use -him as a fulcrum to the lever of revolution, and, having -done with, return him to the cloisters from which he -drew? There was suggestion here.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He mused a little, then broke out suddenly:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Brutus is none the less indispensable.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I do not gainsay it, master.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What! you do not? Then there, at least, we are -agreed. Wilt have him come here?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who is he, this Brutus? I grope in the dark—O my -God, in the dark!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During all this time the two women had remained -passive and apparently apathetic listeners. Now, -suddenly, the girl rose from her place by the chimney and -came heavily forward, her eyes glaring, her hands clenched -in woe, like some incarnated, fallen pythoness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tell </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>,' she said hoarsely. 'I haven't </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> patience -for my wrongs, nor caution neither. What's gained by -caution when one stands on an earthquake? Let me -make sure of </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>, my fine lover, and the world may fall -in, for all I care.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pale mother hurried to her husband's side. He -put out helpless, irresolute hands, with a groan. Montano -stooping, elbow on knee, and rubbing his bristly chin, -conned the speaker with sinister approval.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Spoken like a Roman,' said he. 'Thou art the better -vessel. If all were as you! Tyranny is hatched of the -gross corpse of manliness—a beastly fly. Wilt tell thee -my Brutus's name, girl, if thou wilt answer for these.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He pointed peremptorily at her parents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, will I,' she answered scornfully; 'though I have -to wrench out their tongues first.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He applauded shrilly, with a triumphant, contemptuous -glance at the cowering couple.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That is the right way with cowards. I commit my -Brutus to thee. 'Tis a threefold dog, as I have -said—a fanged Cerberus. Noble, too—as Roman as thou; and, -in one part at least, like wounded. He, this third part, -this Carlo Visconti, had a sister. Well, she was a flower -which Galeazzo plucked; and, not content therewith -threw into the common road. Another head is -Lampugnani, beggared by the Sforzas; and Girolamo -Olgiati is my third, a dear beardless boy, and -instigated only by the noblest love of liberty.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And are these all?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'All, save a fellow called Narcisso—a mere instrument -to use and break—no principles but hate and gain. -Was servant to that bully Lanti and dismissed—hum! for -excess of loyalty. Fear him not.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas!' broke in the armourer: 'why should we fear -him or anybody? There is no harm in this letting my -shop to be thy school's succedaneum.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucia laughed like a fury.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No harm at all,' sniggered Montano, 'save in these -heresies I spoke of. And what are they?—to reorganise -society on a basis of political and social freedom. No -harm in these young Catalines discussing their drastic -remedies, perhaps in the vanity of a hope that some -Sallust may be found to record them.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, have done with all this,' cried the girl witheringly. -'I know nothing of your Catalines and Sallusts. -Ye meet to kill—own it, or ye meet elsewhere.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her mother cried out: 'O Lucia! per pieta.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She made no answer, only fixing Montano with her -glittering eyes. He rose from his stool stiffly, with a -snarl for his aching wounds. But his face brightened -towards her like a spark of wintry sun.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We meet to kill, Madonna,' he said, 'ruined, crippled, -debauched—the victims of a monster and his system. -And thou shalt have thy share, never fear, when the -feast comes to follow the sacrifice.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Bembo had fled, like one distracted, from the walls, -his faithful shadow jumping in his wake. The two, -running and following, never slackened in their pace -until a half-mile separated them from the city; and -then, in a gloomy thicket, under a falling sky, the boy -threw himself down on the grass, and buried his face -from heaven. Pitiful and distraught, the Fool stood -over, silently regarding him. At length he spoke, -panting and reproachful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, in pity, master, wert thou not advised?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy writhed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So lying, so wicked cunning, to make me his decoy -and seeming abettor! O, I am punished for my faith! -Is Christ dead?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Fool sighed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'By thy showing, He lingers behind in the wood.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tell Him I have gone on to my father.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou wilt?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bernardo sat up, a towzled angel. In the interval -the tears had come fast, and his face was wet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'God help you all!' he sobbed. 'You, even you, -prevaricated to me. Whither shall I turn? I see -everywhere a death-dealing wilderness, lies and lust and -inhumanity.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I prevaricated,' said Cicada mournfully. 'I admit -it. You once claimed my wit and experience to your -tutoring. Well, do I not know the tyrant—the persistent -devil in him? He had his teeth in that monk. Not -Christ Himself would have loosened them.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah! what shall I do?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What, but go forward steadfast. This is but a jog by -the way. Judge life on the broad lines of action, the -ruts which mark the progress of the wheels. 'Tis a -morbid sentiment that wastes itself on the quarrel -between the wheels and the road.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, me! if I could but foresee the end of that bloody -mire—the sweet, crisp path again! I can advance no -further. My weak heart fails. I will go back to the -wood.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then back, a' God's name, so I come too.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bernardo rose and seized the Fool's hand, the tears -streaming down his cheeks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This dreadful race—monsters all!' he cried. 'Is there -one kind deed recorded to its credit—one, one only, one -little deed? Tell me, and if there is, by its memory I -will persevere.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Humph! Should I wish thee to? Think again of -that wood.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tell me, kind, good Cicca, my nurse and friend.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go to! Shalt not put a bone in my throat. Well, -they are monsters, but made by that same brute -Circumstance thou decriest. "Wavering out of chaos," -says you? Very like, sir; but, after all, Circumstance -is our head artist in a tuneless world. What a dull -sing-song 'twould be without him—league-long choirs of -saints praising God—a universe of chirping crickets! -With respect, sir, I, though his Fool, would not have -him caged in my time.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas, dear, for thine understanding! Love, that I -would have depose him, is ten thousand times his -superior in art—ay, and in humour. But go on.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I doubt the humour. However, as things are, I owe -to him, as do you, and Galeazzo—the Fool, the Saint, and -the Monster. Could love conceive such a trio? But -to the point. Hast ever heard speak of our Duke's -grand-dad?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Muzio?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So he called himself, or was called, pretending to trace -his descent from Mutius Scævola the Roman. Flattery, -you see, will make a braying ass of honesty. He was -Giacommuzzo—just that; one of a family of fighting -yeomen. But he had points. Hast been told how he -began?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, he was digging turnips by the evening star in -his father's farm at Cotignola, when the sound of pipes -and drums disturbed him. 'Twas some band of Boldrino -of Panicale come to recruit from the fields; and they -halted by the big man. "Be a soldier of fortune like us," -says they; and he tossed his dusty hair from his eyes, -and saw the glint of gold in baldricks. He looked at -the evening star, and 'twas pale beside. Borrowers glean -the real heaven of credit in this topsy-turvy world. Look -at any pool of water: what a glittering prospectus it -makes of the moon! Muzzo flung his spade into an -oak hard by, leaving the decision to Circumstance. If -it fell, he would resume it; if it stayed, a soldier he would -be. It stuck in the branches.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Cicca!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Peace! I will tell thee. He fought up and down, -but never back to Cotignola. He put his ploughing -shoulder to his work, and dug a furrow to fame. Popes -and kings engaged for and against this Condottieri. He -took them all to market like his beans. He knew the -values of fear and money and discipline—bought over -honour; wrenched treason by the joints; flogged slackness -for a rusty hinge in its armour; made warriors of -his rabble. Sought letters, too, to spur them on by -legend.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'All this is nothing.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He went to Mass every day——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Cast his true plain wife, and took to bed the widow of -Naples——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas! Alas!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And lost his life at Pescara, trying to save another.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah! How was that?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He had crossed the river on a blown tide, when he -saw his page a-drowning in the stream. "Poor lad," -quoth he, "will none help thee?" And he dashed back, -was overwhelmed himself, and sank. They saw his -mailed hands twice rise and clutch the air. A' was -never seen again. The waters were his tomb.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bernardo was silent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Was not that a creditable deed?' quoth the Fool.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy, pressing the tangled hair from his eyes, -feverishly seized his comrade's hands in his own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'God forgive me!' he cried; 'am I one to judge him, -who have let my father's friend go under, and never -reached a hand?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Fool looked frankly amazed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Montano,' cried Bembo, 'whom, in my pride of place, -I have forgotten! I will go down among the people -where he lies, and seek to heal his wounds, and sing -Christ's parables to simple hearts. Love lies not in -palaces. I will seek Montano.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Come, then,' said Cicada.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, in a little,' said the boy. 'Let the kind night -find us first. I will flaunt my creed no longer in -the sun.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>From behind the barred door of Lupo's shop came -the sound of muffled laughter. The tragic incongruity -of it in that house of ruin was at least arresting enough -to halt a pedestrian here and there on his passage along -the dark, wet-blown street outside. The mirth broke -gustily, with little snarls at intervals, bestial and -worrying; hearing which, the lingerer would perhaps hurry -on his way with a shudder, crossing himself against, -or spitting out like a bad odour, the influence of the -fiend who had evidently got hold of the master armourer. -</span><em class="italics">Libera nos à malo</em><span>!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fiend, in fact, in possession was no other than -Messer Montano's Cerberus, and its orgy, had the -listener known it, had more than justified his apprehensions. -The mirth which terrified his heart was perhaps -even a degree more deadly in its evocation than -anything he could imagine. It was really laughter so -dreadful that, had he guessed its import, he had rushed, -in an agony of self-vindication, to summon the watch. -But guessing nothing, unless it might be Lupo's madness -under the shock of his misfortunes, he simply crossed -himself and hurried away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Blood conspiracies are rarely successful. Perhaps a -too scrupulous forethought against contingencies tends -to clog the issues. If that is so, the recklessness of these -men may, in a measure, have spelt their present security. -A laugh, after all, is less open to suspicion than a whisper. -Who could imagine a fatal thrust in a guffaw? Nevertheless, -every chuckle uttered here punctuated a stab.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In rehearsal only at present, it is true; but practice, -good practice, sirs. The victim of the attack was a -dummy, contrived suggestively to represent Galeazzo. -At least the habit made the man; and hate and a -stinging imagination supplied the rest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It stood in a dusky corner by the dead forge. Not so -much light as would certainly guide a hand was allowed -to fall upon it; for deeds of darkness, to be successful, -must be prepared against darkness. Its stuffed, daubed -face, staring from out this gloom, was like nothing human. -To catch sudden sight, within a vista of dim lamp-shine, -of its motionless eyes and features warped with stabs, -was to gasp and shrink, as if one had looked into a glass -and seen Death reflected back. Its suggestion of reality -(and it possessed it) was to seek rather in velvet and -satin; in a cunning, familiar disposition of its dress; in -the sombre but profuse sparkle of artificial gems with -which it was looped and hung. Thence came a grotesque -and wicked semblance to a doomed figure. For the rest, -in the bloodless slashes, gaping, rag-exuding, which had -taken it cunningly in weak places—through the neck, -under the gorget, between joints of the mail with which -Lupo's craft had fitted it—there was a suggestiveness -almost more horrible than truth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was in actual fact a sop to Cerberus, was this -grisly-ludicrous doll, fruit of the decision (which had followed -much discussion of ways and means) to postpone its -prototype's murder to some occasion of public festivity, -when the sympathies of the mob might be kindled and a -revolution accomplished at a stroke. Politic Cerberus -must nevertheless have something to stay the gnawing -and craving of a delayed revenge which had otherwise -corroded him. He took a ferociously boyish delight in -fashioning this lay-figure, and, having made, in whetting -his teeth on it; in clothing it in purple and fine linen; -in addressing it wheedlingly, or ironically, or brutally, as -the mood swayed him. And to-night his mood, stung -by the tempest, perhaps, was unearthly in its wildness. -It rose in fiendish laughter; it mocked the anguish of -the blast, a threefold litany, now blended, now a -trifurcating blasphemy. There were the roaring bass of -Visconti, Lampugnani's smooth treble, the deadly -considered baritone of Olgiati. And, punctuating all, like -the tap of a baton, flew the interjections of Messer -Montano, the conductor:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Su! Gia-gia! Bravo, Carlo! That was a Brutus -stroke! Uh-uh, Andrea! hast bled him there for arrears -of wages! a scrap of gold-cloth, by Socrates! A brave -sign, a bright token, Andrea!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He chuckled and hugged himself, involuntarily -embracing in the action the long pendant which hung from -his roundlet or turban, and half-pulling the cap from his -skull-like forehead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Death!' he screeched in an ecstasy, and Lampugnani, -glancing at him, went off into husky laughter, and sank -back, breathed, upon a bench.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Cometh in a doctor's gown,' he panted. 'Nay, sir, -bonnet! bonnet! or the dummy will suspect you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He might have, himself, and with a better advantage -to his fortunes, could he have penetrated the vestments -of that drear philosophic heart. There was a secret there -would have astounded </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> self-assurance. Montano wore -his doctor's robe, meetly as a master of rhetoric, not the -least of whose contemplated flights was one timely away -from that political arena, whose gladiators in the -meanwhile he was bent only on inflaming to a contest in which -he had no intention of personally participating. He had -a fixed idea, his back and his principles being still -painfully at odds, that the cause would be best served by his -absence, when once the long train to the explosion he -was engineering had been fired at his hand. And so he -hugged himself, and Lampugnani laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Look at Master Lupo, with the sound of thy screech -in his ears! As if he thought we contemplated anything -but to bring slashed Venetian doublets into vogue!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was a large, fleshly creature, was this Lampugnani, -needing some fastidious lust to stir him to action, and -then suddenly violent. His face was big and vealy, with -a mouth in its midst like a rabbit's, showing prominently -a couple, no more, of sleek teeth. His eyes drooped -under lids so languid as to give him an affectation of -fatigue in lifting them. His voice was soft, but -compelling: he never lent it to platitudes. An intellectual -sybarite, a voluptuary by deliberation, he had tested God -and Belial, and pronounced for the less Philistine -lordship of the beast. Quite consistent with his principles, -he not hated, but highly disapproved of Galeazzo, who, -as consistently, had pardoned him some abominable -crime which, under Francesco the father, had procured -him the death sentence. But Messer Andrea had looked -for a more sympathetic recognition of his merits at the -hands of his deliverer than was implied in an ill-paid -lieutenancy of Guards; and his exclusion from a share -in the central flesh-pots was a conclusive proof to him of -the æsthetic worthlessness of the master it was his -humility to serve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Visconti, at whom he breathed his little laugh, -was a contrast to him in every way—a bluff, stout-built -man, with fat red chaps flushing through a skin of red -hair, a braggadocio manner, and small eyes red with -daring. There was nothing of his house's emblematic -adder about him, save a readiness with poisons; and -after all, that gave him no particular distinction. He -took a great, stertorous pull at a flagon of wine, and -smacked his lips bullyingly, before he answered with a -roar:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wounds! scarlet scotched on a ground of flesh-tint—a -fashion will please our saint.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Montano chuckled again, and more shrilly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good, good!' he cried: 'scarlet on flesh!' and he -squinted roguishly at the blind smith, who sat beside -him on a bench, nervously kneading together his wasted -hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Messers,' muttered the poor fellow; 'but will this holy -boy approve the means to such a fashion? For Love to -exalt himself by blood!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned his sightless eyes instinctively towards -Olgiati, where the boy stood, a dark, fatalistic young -figure, breathing himself by the forge. He, he guessed, -or perhaps knew, was alone of the company actuated by -impersonal motives in this dread conspiracy. But he -did not guess that, by so much as the young man was a -pure fanatic of liberty, his hand and purpose were the -most of all to be dreaded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Olgiati gave a melancholy smile, and, stirring a little, -looked down. He was habited, as were his two -companions, for the occasion—a recurrent dress-rehearsal—in -a coat and hose of mail, and a jerkin of crimson satin. -It was not the least significant part of his undertaking -that he, like the others, was court-bred and court-employed. -The fact, at its smallest, implied in them a -certain anatomic-cum-sartorial acquaintance with their -present business.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">Offerimus tibi, Domine, Calicem salutaris!</em><span>' he quoted -from the Mass, in his sweet, strong voice. 'Hast thou -not a first example of that exaltation, Lupo, in the -oblation of the chalice?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Revolution knows no blasphemy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bah!' grumbled Visconti.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He died for men: we worship the sacrifice of -Himself,' protested the armourer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And shall not Messer Bembo sacrifice himself, his -scruples and his reluctances, that love may be exalted -over hate, mercy over tyranny?' asked Olgiati.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I know not, Messer,' muttered the suffering armourer. -'I cannot trace the saint in these sophistries, that is all.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'True, he is a saint,' conceded Lampugnani, yawning -as he lolled. 'Now, what is a saint, Lupo?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O, Messer! look on his mother's son, and ask!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, that is the true squirrel's round. We are all -born of women'—he yawned again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'They bear us, and we endure them,' he murmured -smilingly, the water in his eyes. 'It is so we retaliate on -their officiousness.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Montano tittered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lupo,' Lampugnani went on, lazily stirring himself, -'you suggest to me two-thirds of a syllogism: </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> am my -mother's son; therefore I am a saint.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ho! ho!' hooted Visconti.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Messer,' entreated the bewildered armourer, 'with -respect, it turns upon the question of the mother.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The mother? O dog, to question the repute of mine!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I did not—no, never.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, who was his?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'None knows. A star, 'tis said.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Venus, of course. And his father?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Some son of God, perchance.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, Mars. He was that twain's by-blow, and fell -upon an altar. I know now how saints are made. Yet -shall we, coveting sanctity, wish our parents bawds? -'Tis a confusing world!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sank back as if exhausted, while Montano chirped, -and Visconti roared with laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Saints should be many in it, Andrea,' he applauded. -'Knows how they are made, quotha!' and he stamped -about, holding his sides till, reeling near to the dummy, -he paused, and made a savage lunge at it with his dagger. -His mood changed on the instant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Death!' he snarled, 'I warrant here's one hath -propagated some saints to his undoing!' and he went -muttering a rosary of curses under his breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lampugnani, smilingly languid, continued:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, Lupo, so Messer Bembo is the son of his -mother? It seems like enough—what with his wheedling -and his love-locks. He shall be Saint Cupid on -promotion. I think he will regard scarlet or pink as no -objectionable fashion, does it come to make a god of -him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The armourer uttered an exclamation:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Some think him that already. It is the question of -his coming to be Duke that hips me. I can't see him -there.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nor I,' said Visconti, with a sarcastic laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Olgiati interposed quietly:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Have comfort, Lupo. We are all good republicans. -The exaltation of Messer Bembo is to be provisional -only, preceding the consummation. He is to be lifted -like the Host, to bring the people to their knees, and then -lowered, and——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Put away,' said Lampugnani blandly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The armourer started to his feet in agitation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Messers!' he cried, 'he poured oil into my wounds; I -will consent to no such wickedness.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">You</em><span> won't?' roared Visconti; but Lampugnani soothed -him down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'When I said "put away," I meant in a tabernacle, -like that sacred bread. I assure you, Lupo, he is the -rose of our adoration also; he shall cultivate his thorn in -peace; he shall wax fat like Jeshurun, and kick.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And in the meantime,' grumbled Visconti, 'we are -measuring our fish before we've hooked him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lampugnani's face took on a very odd expression.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What the devil's behind that?' hectored the bully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O, little!' purred the other. 'I fancy I feel him -nibble, that's all. Perhaps you don't happen to know -how he hath cut his connection with the palace?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What! When?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They all jumped to stare at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This day,' he said, 'in offence of some carrion of -Galeazzo's which he had nosed out. The poor boy is -particular in his tastes, for a shambles—ran like a sheep -from the slaughter-house door, taking his Patch with -him, and a ring her Grace had loaned him for a -safe-conduct. I heard it said she would have been ravished -of anything rather—by him. 'Twas her lord's troth-gift. -The castle is one fume of lamentation.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Montano, rubbing his lean hands between his knees, -went into a rejoicing chatter:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We have him, we have him! Gods! who's here?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their intentness had deafened them some minutes -earlier to a more mouthing note in the thunder of the -rain, as if the swell of the tempest had been opened -an instant and shut. The moment, in fact, and a -master-key, had let in a new comer. He had closed the -latch behind him, and now, seeing himself observed, -stood ducking and lowering in the blinking light. The -philosopher heaved a tremulous sigh of relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Narcisso!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hulking creature grinned, and stabbed a thumb -over his shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hist! him you speak of's out there, a-seeking your -worship.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Seeking </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>? Messer Bembo?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why not? A' met him at the town gate half-drowned, -with his Patch to heel. The report of his running was -got abroad, and, thinks I to myself, here's luck to my -masters. To take him on the hop of grievance like——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Montano seemed to sip the phrase:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Exactly: on the hop of grievance. Well?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, I spoke him fair: "Whither away, master?" A' -spat a saintly word—'twere a curse in a sinner—and -sprang back, a' did, glaring at me. But the great Fool -pushed him by. "You're the man," says he. "Desperation -knows its fellows. Where's Montano?" "Why, -what would you with him?" says I, taken off my guard. -"A salve for his wounds," he answered. And so I -considered a bit, and brought 'em on, and there they wait.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Visconti uttered a furious oath, but Lampugnani -hushed him down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Didst well, pretty innocence,' he said to Narcisso. -'The hop of grievance?—never a riper moment. Show -in your friends.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was serenely confident of his policy—waved all -protest aside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I see my way: the hook is baited: let him bite.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bite?' growled Visconti. 'And what about our -occupation here?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, 'tis testing mail, nothing more. Is a lay-figure -in an armoury so strange?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, when 'tis a portrait-model.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O glowing tribute to my art! I designed the doll, -true. You make me look down, sir, and simper and bite -my finger. Yet my mind misgives me thou flatterest. -A portrait-model, yes; but will he recognise of whom?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The knave may—the shrewder fool of the pair.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The greater fool will testify to me? O happy artist! -Well, if he do, I will still account him naught. He will -take the bait also. The shadow swims and bites with -the fish. Besides, should this befall, 'twill save mayhap -a world of preliminaries. Remember that "hop of -grievance." He comes, it seems, in a mood to jump -with ours. Let them in.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like souls salvaged from a wreck they came—the Fool -propping the Saint—staggering in by the door. Grief -and storm and weariness had robbed the boy of speculation, -almost of his senses. His drenched hair hung in -ropes, his wild eyes stared beneath like a frightened -doe's, his clothes slopped on his limbs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Narcisso struggled with the door and closed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly Bernardo, lifting his dazed lids, caught sight -of the shadowed lay-figure, recoiled, and shrieking out -hoarsely:—'Galeazzo! Thou! O God, doomed soul!' -tottered and slid through Cicada's limp arms upon the -floor. Instantly Narcisso was down by his side, and -fumbling with his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A's in a swound,' he was beginning, when, with a -rush and heave, the Fool sent him wallowing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Darest thou, hog! darest thou! Go rub thy filthy -hoofs in ambergris first!' and he squatted, snarling and -showing his teeth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Narcisso rose, to a chorus of laughter, and stood -grinning and rubbing his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, I never!' he said.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xiii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Countess of Casa Caprona was a widow. The -news was waiting to overwhelm, or transport, her -upon her return to the castello after her interview with -Lanti. On the one hand it committed her to dowagery, -that last infirmity of imperious minds; on the other to -the freedom of a glorified spinsterhood. Though she -recognised that, on the whole, the blow was destructive -of the real zest of intrigue, she behaved very -handsomely by the memory of the deceased, who had died, -like a soldier, in harness. She caused a solemn requiem -mass to be sung for him in the Duomo; she commissioned -a monody, extolling his marital virtues, from an -expensive poet; she distributed liberal alms to the poor -of the city. There is no trollop so righteous in her -matronhood as she made timely a widow. Besides, to -this one, the zest of all zests for the moment was -revenge. She withdrew to mature it, and to lament -orthodoxly her lord, to her dower-house in the Via -Sforza.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a very pretty spot for melancholy and -meditation—cool, large, secluded, and its smooth, silent walks -and bubbling fountains cloistered in foliage. From its -gardens one had glimpses of the castello and of the -candied, biscuit-like pinnacles of the cathedral. Cypresses -and little marble fauns broke between them the flowering -intervals, and peacocks on the gravel made wandering -parterres of colour. Sometimes, musing in the shades, -with a lock of her long hair between her lips, she would -pet her frowning fancy with the figure of a youthful -Adam, golden and glorious, approaching her down an -avenue of this smiling paradise, making its mazes -something less than scentless; and then, behold! a lizard, -perhaps, would wink on the terrace, and she would snatch -and crush the little palpitating life under her heel, cursing -it for a symbol of the serpent desolating her Eden, and -transforming it all into a mirage of warmth and passion. -Not Adam he, that lusted-for, but the angel at the gate, -menacing and awful. She must be more and worse than -Eve to seek to corrupt an angel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps she was, in her most tortured, most animal -moods. The sensuous, by training and heredity, had -quite over-swollen and embedded in her beautiful trunk -the small spike of conscience, which as a child had -tormented, and which yet, at odd moments, would gall and -tease her like an ancient wound. She might even have -been stung by it into some devotional self-sacrifice in her -present phase of passion, could she have been assured of, -or believed in, its object's inaccessibility to a higher grace -of solicitation. But jealousy kept her ravening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On a languorous noon of this week of losses she was -lying, a conventionally social exile, having her hair -combed and perfumed, in a little green pavilion pitched -in her grounds, when a heavy step on the gravel outside -aroused her from a dream of voluptuous rumination. -The tread she recognised, yet, though moved by it -to a little flutter of curiosity, would not so far alloy a -drowsy ecstasy as to bid the visitor enter while it lasted. -Hypnotised by the soft burrowing of the comb, she closed -her eyes until the perfect moment was passed, when, with -a sigh, she bade the intruder enter, and Narcisso came -slouching in by the opening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beatrice dismissed her attendants with a look. She -never spoke to her servants where a gesture would serve, -and could draw hour-long silent enjoyment from the weary -hands of tire-woman or slave, hairdresser or fanner, -without a sign of embarrassment, or indeed understanding. -Now she lay back, restful, impassive—indifferent utterly -to any impression her will for a solitary interview with -this gross creature might make upon them. And, indeed, -there was little need for such concern. Hired assassination, -a recognised institution, explained many otherwise -strange conjunctions between the beauties and beasts -of Milan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The beast, in the present instance, behaved as was -habitual with him in the presence of this Circe. That is -to say, he was awkward, deprecating, and, of stranger -significance, devoted to truthfulness. He adored her, as -Caliban Miranda, but more fearfully: was her slave, the -genii of the lamp of her loveliness, with which to be on -any familiar terms, even of debasement, was enough. -What did it matter that she paid him with offence and -disdain? Her use of him was as her use of some necessary -organic part of herself. And she might deprecate the -necessity; but the secret of it was, nevertheless, their -common property. Her beauty and his devotion were as -near akin as blood and complexion. Perhaps some day, -in the resurrection of the flesh, he would be able to -substantiate that kinship.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thought may have been there in him, instinctive, -unilluminated, as he stood fumbling with his cap, and -raising and lowering his hang-dog eyes, and waiting for -her to open. Physically, at least, she showed no shame -in implying his close right to her confidence. The noon -was a noon of slumbering fires, and her mood a responsive -one. A long white camisole, of the frailest tissue, rounded -on her lower limbs, and, splitting at the waist, straddled -her shoulders clingingly, leaving a warm breathing-space -between. Round her full neck clung one loop of emeralds; -and to the picture her black falling hair made a tenderest -frame, while the sun, penetrating the tilt above, finished -all with a mist of green translucence. A Circe, indeed, to -this coarse and animal rogue, and alive with awful and -covetable lusts, to which, nevertheless, he was an admitted -procurer. He had not ceased to be in her pay and -confidence, cursed and repudiated though he had been by his -master, her erst protector. He had not even resented -that episode of his betrayal at her hands, though it had -condemned him for a living to the rôle of the hired bravo. -She might always do with him as she liked; overbid with -one imperious word his fast pledges to others; convert -his craft wheresoever she wished to her own profit. The -more she condescended to him, the more was he claimed -a necessary part of her passions' functions. She -discharged through him her hates and desires, and he was -beatified in the choice of himself as their medium. There -was a suggestion of understanding, of a conscious -partnership between them, in the very fulsomeness with which -he abased himself before her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well,' she murmured at last, 'hast drunk thy senses -to such surfeit that they drown in me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay,' he mumbled, 'I could die looking.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A true Narcissus,' she scoffed; 'but I could wish a -sweeter. Stand away, fellow. Your clothes offend me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He backed at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now,' she said, 'I can breathe. Deliver yourself!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He heaved up his chest, and looked above her, concentrating -his wits on an open loop of the tent, behind which -a bird was flickering and chirping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I come, by Madonna's secret instructions, from -privately informing Messer Lanti where Messer Bembo lies -hidden,' he said, speaking as if by rote.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded imperiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What questions did he ask?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How I knew; and I answered, that I knew.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good. That least was enough. Art a right rogue. -Now will he go seek him, and be drawn by his devotion -into this net.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Narcisso was silent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Will he not?' she demanded sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fellow dropped his eyes to her an instant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Madonna knows. He loves the Messer Saint. No -doubt a' will hold by him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What then, fool?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'They have not caught Messer Bembo yet, they at the -forge—that is all.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How!' she cried angrily, 'when thou told'st me——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'With humility, Madonna,' he submitted, 'I told thee -naught but that he and this Montano were agreed on the -State's disease.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But I never said on its cure.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She frowned, leaning forward and again biting a strand -of her hair—a sullen trick with her in anger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A doctor of rhetoric, and so feeble in persuasion!' -she muttered scornfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A' starts at a shadow, this saint,' pleaded Narcisso. -'A' must be coaxed, little by little, like a shy foal. We -will have him in the halter anon. Yet a' be only one out -of five, when all's said.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dolt!' she hissed. 'What are the other four, or their -purpose, to me, save as a lever to my revenge? I foresee -it all. Why telled'st me not before I sent thee? Now -this gross lord, instead of himself tangling in the meshes, -will persuade the other back to court and reason and -forgiveness, and I shall be worse than damned. Dolt, I -could kill thee!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She rose to her height, furious, and he shrunk cowering -before her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Listen, Madonna,' he said, trembling: 'Canst net -them all yet at one swoop. Go tell Messer Ludovico, -and certes a' will jump to destroy the nest and all in it, -before a' inquires their degrees of guilt.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stared at him, still threatening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, says Madonna? Listen again, then. Does the -Ser Simonetta trust Messer Ludovico, or Messer Ludovico -love the Ser Simonetta? The secretary clings to the -Duchess. If she falls, a' falls with her.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Again, thou tedious rogue, why should the Saint's -destruction bring Bona down?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A' would have his mouth shut from explaining.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Explaining what? I lose patience.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How a' came, a conspirator against the Duke, to be -found wi' his wife's troth ring in his possession. Here it -be. I've filched it for thee at last.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sprang to seize the token, glowing triumphant in a -moment, and putting it on her own finger, pressed the -clinched hand that enclosed it into her bosom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed low and rejoicingly, shameless in the -quick transition of her mood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good Narcisso! It is the Key at last! Let Lanti -persuade him back now—I am content. I hold them, -and Bona too, in the hollow of this hand.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She held it out, her right one, palm upwards, and, -smiling, bade him kiss it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Rogue,' she said, 'to tease and vex me, and all -the time this talisman in thy sleeve. Ay, make the -most of it: snuffle and root. My dog has deserved -of me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, as if he -had drunk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now,' she said, 'how wert successful? how won'st it, -sweet put?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Took it from him, that was all.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'When a' came tumbling in and staggered in a swound. -Had heard Messer Andrea relating of how 'twas on him -as I entered. Ho, ho! thinks I, here's that, maybe, will -pay the filching! and I dropped and got it, all in a -moment like.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You never told me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You never asked till yesterday. Then I had it not -with me. But to-day, thinks I, I'll bring it up my sleeve -for a win-favour—a good last card.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No matter, since I have got it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She held it out, and gloated on its device and sparkle. -She knew it well: indeed it was a famous gem, the -Sforza lion cut in cameo on a deep pure emerald, and -known as the Lion ring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hath he not missed it?' she murmured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not by any sign a' gives. The sickness of that night -still holds him half-amazed. A' thinks our fine doll, even, -but a bug of it—fancies a' saw it in a dream like. They'd -locked it away when he came to.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Poor worldling! Poor little new-born worldling! He -shall cut his pretty teeth anon. Well—for Messer Lanti? -Did he leap to the trail, or what?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That same moment. Belike they are together now.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stood musing a little: then heaved a sudden sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Poor boy,' she murmured, 'poor boy! is it I must -seek to destroy thee!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her mood had veered again in a breath. Her eyes -were full of a brooding love and pity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not for the first time,' muttered Narcisso.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She seemed not to hear him—to have grown oblivious -of his presence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The song he sang to me!' she murmured: 'Ah, me, -if that hour could be mine! A saint in heaven?—not -Bona's! she hath a lord—no saint, did he love her. He -looked at me: it came from his heart. If that hour could -be mine! Not then—'twere a sin—but now! That one -hour—cherished—unspent—the seed of the unquickened -pledge between us to all eternity. I could be content, -knowing him a saint through that abstinence. My -hour—</span><em class="italics">mine</em><span>—to passion to my breast—the shadow of the child -that would not be born to me. He looked at me—no -spectre of a dead lost love in his eyes—only a hopeless -quest—bonds never to be riven. But now—Ah! I -cannot kill him!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hid her eyes, shuddering. Narcisso, vaguely -troubled, gloomed at her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You will not go to Messer Ludovico?' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She returned to knowledge of him, as to a sense of pain -out of oblivion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go,' she said coldly. 'Leave all to me. You have -done well, and been paid your wages.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he did not demur. It was not in her nature to -gild her favours unnecessarily. Gold came less lavishly -from her than kisses. Her pounds of flesh were her most -profitable assets. She was a spendthrift in everything -but money.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xiv"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'Messer Bembo,' said Montano, between meditative -and caustic, 'you do not agree that our poor -Lupo's definition of a perfect government, an autocracy -with an angel at its head, is a practicable definition?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was sitting, as often during the last few days, at -talk with the boy, on subjects civic, political, and -theological. They had discussed at odd times the whole -ethics of government, from the constitution of Lycurgus -to the code of Thomas Aquinas: they had expounded, -each in his way, a scheme or a dream of socialism: they -had agreed, without prejudice, to liken the evolution of -the simple Church of Peter into the complicated fabric of -the fourth Sixtus to a woodland cottage, bought by some -great princely family, and improved into a summer -palace, which was grown out of harmony with its -environments. Somewhat to his amazement, Montano -discovered that the boy was the opposite to a dogmatic -Christian; that his was a religion, which, while conforming -or adapting itself to the orthodox, was in its essence -a religion of mysticism. No doubt the traditions of -his origin were, to some extent, to seek for this. A -pledge, so to speak, of spontaneous generation, Bernardo -accounted for himself on a theory of reincarnation from -another sphere. He believed in the possibility of the -resurrection of the body, which, though destroyed, and -many times destroyed, could be, in its character of mere -soul-envelope or soul expression, as regularly -reconstructed at the will of its informing spirit. Death, he -declared, was just the beginning of the return of that -divested spirit to the spring of life—to the river welling -in the central Eden from the loins of the Father, the -spouse of Nature, the secret, the unspeakable God, of -whom was Christ, his own dear brother and comrade.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He would tell Messer Montano, with his sweet, frank -eyes arraigning that crabbed philosopher's soul, how this -unstained first-born of Nature, this sinless heir of love, -this wise and pitying Christ, moved by an infinite -compassion to see the wounded souls of his brothers—those -few who had not made their backward flight too difficult—come, -soiled and earth-cloyed, to seek their reincarnation -in the spring, had descended, himself, upon earth at -last, sacrificing his birthright of divinity, that he might -teach men how to live. And the men his brothers had -slain him, in jealousy, even as Cain slew Abel; yet had -his spirit, imperishably great, continued to dwell in their -midst, knowing that, did it once leave the earth, it must -be for ever, and to mankind's eternal unregeneracy. For, -so Bernardo insisted, there was an immutable law in -Nature that no soul reincarnated could re-enter the -sphere from which it was last returned, but must seek -new fields of action. Wherefore all earth-loving spirits, -which we call apparitions, were such as after death clung -about the ways of men, in a yearning hopefulness to -redeem them by touching their hearts with sympathy -and their eyes with a mist of sorrow. And, of such -gentle ghosts, Christ was but the first in faith and -tenderness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A wild, dim theory, peopling woods, and fields, and -cities with a mystic company—phantoms, yet capable of -revealing themselves in fitful glimpses to the sinless and -the sympathetic among men—ghosts, weaving impalpable -webs of love across populous ways to catch men's souls -in their meshes. Montano called it all transcendental -fustian. It aroused his most virulent scorn. What had -this cloud-moulding, moon-paring stuff to do with the -practical issues of life, with freedom, and government by -popular representation? He even professed to prefer to -it Lascaris, with his metaphysical jargon and apostolic -succession of atoms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He gives you at least something to take hold of,' he -snarled. 'Listen to this'—and he condescended to read -an excerpt from a recent treatise by his hated rival:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'"Life,"' he read, '"is put out at compound interest. -We represent, each in himself, a fraction of the principal, -having a direct pedigree </span><em class="italics">ab initio</em><span>. As a spider will -gather the hundred strands of his web into a little ball -which he will swallow, so might we each absorb and -claim the whole vast web of life. Rolled up to include -each radiating thread, the web becomes I; the spider -is I; I am the principal of life—not the principle: that -is Prometheus' secret."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'"I am a fraction of life's compound interest. The -sum of the mental impressions of all my thread of -tendency (which gathers back, taking up cross threads -by the way, to the central origin) is invested in my -paltry being, and lieth there, together with mine own -interest on the vast accumulation, in tail for my next of -kin. What can I do in my tiny span but touch the -surface of this huge estate: pluck here and there a flower of -its fields, whose roots are in immemorial time? Imagination -founders in those fathomless depths. Tenuous, -dim-forgotten ghosts rise from them. Who shall say -that my dreams, however seeming mad and grotesque, are -not faithful reflexes of states and conditions which were -once realities; memories of forms long extinct; echoes -of times when I flew, or spun, or was gaseous, or vast, -or little; when I mingled intimate with shapes which -are chimerical to my present understanding——"'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The reader broke off, with an impatient grunt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There!' he said, 'dreams mad and grotesque enough, -in good sooth; yet not so mad as thine.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well,' said Bernardo, 'well,' with perfect sweetness -and good temper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Christ in the world? Fah!' snarled the philosopher. -'I know him. He sits at Rome under a triple tiara. -Quit all this sugared dreaming, boy, and face the future -like a man.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Does the sun shine out of yesterday or to-morrow? -It is enough for the moment to take thought for itself. -The future is not.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Pooh! a mere Jesuitry, justifying the moment's -abomination.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay: for we shall have to retraverse our deeds, and -carry back their burden to our first account—with most, -a toilful journey.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'They would do better to stop with your Christ, then; -and, judged by the preponderance of evil spirits here, I -think most do. No future, say'st? But how about that -heir of the compound interest? Is there not one waiting -to succeed to him? Where? Why, in the future, as -surely and inevitably as this date, which I am going to -swallow in a moment, will be blood and tissue in me -to-morrow.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He held the fruit up—with a swift movement Bernardo -whipped it out of his hand and ate it himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How for your future now?' he chuckled, pinking all over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cicada laughed loudly, and Montano swore. His -philosophy was not proof against such practical jokes. -But, seeing his fury, the boy put out all his sweetness to -propitiate him. He was his father's friend; he was a -man of learning; he had suffered grievous wrong. The -dog was coaxed presently into opening again upon the -angelic principles. It was by such virulent irony that he -thought—so warped was his mental vision—to corrode -the candour of this saint, and bend him to his own views -and uses—a diseased vanity, even had he not reckoned, -as will now appear, without the consideration of another -possible factor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And 'So,' said he upon a later occasion, in the sentence -which opens this chapter, 'you do not agree with our poor -Lupo's practicable definition of a perfect government?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Saint's steadfast eyes canvassed the speaker's soul, -as if in some shadowy suspicion of an integrity which -they were being led, not for the first time, to probe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, Messer,' said he, 'practicable in so far as, by -the dear Christ's influence, grace may come to make an -angel even of our Duke.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Montano tried to return his steady gaze, but failed -meanly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'With submission, Messer Bernardo,' he sniggered, 'I -can only follow, in my mind's eye, one certain road to -that great man's apotheosis.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo was silent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>''Tis the road,' continued the other, 'taken before by -the Emperor Nero.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He stabbed himself, the most wretched pagan, in fear -of a worser retribution than heaven's,' said Bembo. -'Alas! do you call that an apotheosis?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There are gods and gods,' said Montano,—'Hades and -Olympus. Belike Nero was welcomed of his kind, as -Galeazzo would be. I can scarce see in the Duke the -raw material of your fashion of angel. There's more of -the harpy about him than the harp.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a heavenly day. Bernardo, still a little hectic -and languid from his fever, sat in the embrasure of a -window which gave upon the back court of the smithy. -A muffled tinkling of armourers' hammers reached his -ears pleasantly from the rear of neighbouring premises. -There was a certain happy suggestiveness to him in the -sound, evoked, as he hoped it might be, at his host Lupo's -instigation. For his endearing optimism had so wrought -upon that stricken artificer, during the week he had dwelt -in hiding with him, as to persuade the poor man to quit -his self-despairing, and hire out his skill—not practically; -that was no longer possible; but theoretically—to a -deserving fellow-craftsman. Already the sense of touch -was curiously refining in the sightless creature, and the -glimmer of a new dawn of interest penetrating him. -And he was at work again elsewhere.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the floor at Bembo's feet squatted Cicada, acrid, -speaking little, and spending his long intervals of silence -in staring at the girl Lucia, who, crouching at a distance -away by the fireless forge, in the gloom of the shuttered -smithy, seemed given over to an eternal reverie of hate. -She, alone of the household, had remained impervious to -all the sweet influences of sorrow and pity. Her wrong -was such as no angel could remedy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cicada spoke now, with a scowl of significance for -Montano:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Speak plain, master philosopher. Innuendo is the -weapon of Fools, and wisdom shall prevail in candour. -Thou canst not picture to thyself this evangelised -Duke?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Montano shot a lowering glance at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, I confess, master Patch,' said he—'unless,' he -added grinning, 'by Nero's road.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Two whispers do not make one outspokenness,' -answered the Fool. 'Hast hinted Nero once, and once -again, and still we lack the application. Nero was driven -to the road, quotha; well, by whom?—one Galba, an -my learning's not a'rust. What then? Is Galba going -to drive Galeazzo?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, Love, dear Cicca,' put in Bernardo, but half -hearing and half understanding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Love!' cried the Fool. 'Thou hast hit it. Hear -wisdom from the mouths of babes. Love in the hands -of rascals—a tool, a catspaw, to pull them their chestnuts -from the fire, and then be cast burnt aside.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He addressed himself, with infinite irony, to Montano.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good master philosopher,' said he, 'there is one fable -for you: listen while I relate another. A certain rogue -was stripped and beaten by a greater, who going on his -way, there came a stranger, a mere child, and marked -the fellow groaning. "Poor soul!" quoth he in pity; -and knelt and bound his hurts and gave him wine, and -by kind arts restored him. When shortly the aggressor -returning and whistling by that place, his erst-victim, -stung to revenge, yet having no weapon left him, did -leap and incontinent seize up by his heels the ministering -angel, and using his body for flail, knock down his -enemy with him, killing both together. Which having -done, and picked their pockets, on his way goes he -rejoicing, "Now do I succeed to mine enemy's purse -and roguery!"'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He ended. Montano, glancing stealthily at Bernardo, -wriggled and tittered uneasily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Patch hath spoken,' he said; 'great is Patch!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have spoken,' quoth the Fool. 'Dost gather the -moral?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not I, indeed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, sir, 'tis of roguery making himself master of -Love's estate; and yet that is not the full moral neither. -For I mind me of a correction; how, before the blow -was struck, Folly stepped between, and snatched Love -from such a fate, and left the rogues to their conclusions.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, Folly and Love were well mated. Have you -done? I am going to my books.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He yawned, and stretched himself, and rose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will show you to the door, says Folly,' chirped -Cicada, and skipped about the other as he went, with -a mincing affectation of ceremonial. But when they -were got out of immediate sight and hearing of Bernardo -into the front chamber, like a wolf the Fool snapped upon -the philosopher, and pinned him into a corner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Understood'st my fable well enough,' he grated, in a -rapid whisper. 'What! I have waited this opportunity -a day or two. Now the stopper is out, let us flow.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Montano, taken by surprise, was seized with a tremor -of irresolution. He returned the Fool's gaze with a -frown uncertain, sullen, eager all in one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Flow, then,' he muttered, after a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I flow,' went on the other, 'oil and verjuice combined. -Imprimis, think not that because I read I would betray -thee. Ay, ay—no need to start, sir. Thou shalt not -quit playing with thy doll for me; nay, nor dressing and -goring it, if thou wilt, with triangles of steel. O, I -saw!—the face and the slashes in it, too. I have not since -been so ill, like him there, as to read a phantasy out of -fact. What then? Would ye silence me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go on,' whispered Montano hoarsely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, I flow,' returned the Fool. 'Did I not tell thee -candour was the best part of wisdom? Learn by it, -then. I have marked thee of late; O, trust me, I have -marked thee, thy hints and insinuations. And hereby -by folly I swear, could once I think my master wax to -such impressions, I would kill him where he stands, and -damn my soul to send his uncorrupt to heaven. You -sneer? Sneer on. Why, I could have laughed just now -to see you, tortuous, sound his sweet candid shallows, -where every pebble's plain. Do your own work, I'll not -speak or care. You shall not have him to it, that's all. -Sooner shall the heavens fall, than he be led by you to -poison Galeazzo. Is that plain?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was so plain, that the philosopher gasped vainly for -a retort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who—who spoke of poison?' he stammered. 'Not -I. Dear Messer Fool, you wrong me. This boy—the -protégé of della Grande—mine old friend—I would not -so misuse him. Why, he succoured me—an ill requital. If -I sounded him, 'twas in self-justification only. We seek -the same end by different roads—the ancient Gods -restored—the return to Nature. Is it not so? Christ or -Hyperion—I will not quarrel with the terms. "Knowledge," -saith he, "is the fool that left his Eden." Well, -he harks back, and so do I.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No further, thou, than to Rome and Regillus; but he -to Paradise. Halt him not, I say. He shall not be thy -catspaw. On these terms only is my silence bought.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then is it bought. Why, Fool, I could think thee -a fool indeed. He hath forsworn the court: how could -we think to employ him there?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You know, as I know, sir, that this secession is a -parenthesis, no more. He came to cure the State—not -your way. A little repentance will win him back. The -disease is in the head—he sees it; not in these warped -limbs that the brain governs. He will go back anon.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And reign again by love?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I hope so, as first ministers reign.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No more? Well, we will back him there.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Again, be warned; not your way. Make him no -text for the reform which builds on murder. I have -spoken.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, we will not. </span><em class="italics">Vale!</em><span>'—and the philosopher, -bowing his head, slunk out by the door which the other -opened for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A little later, creeping into a narrow court which was -the 'run' to his burrow, at the entrance he crossed the -path of two cavaliers, whom, upon their exclaiming over -the encounter, he drew under an archway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were come from playing pall-mall on the ramparts, -and carried over their shoulders the tools of their -sport—thin boxwood mallets, painted with emblematic devices -in scarlet and blue, and having handle-butts of chased -silver. Each gentleman wore red full-hose ending in -short-peaked shoes, a plain red biretta, and a little green -bodice coat, tight at the waist and open at the bosom -to leave the arms and shoulders free play. Montano -squinted approval of their flushed faces and -strong-breathed lungs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well exercised,' quoth he, in his high-pitched whisper; -'well exercised, and betimes belike.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'News?' drawled Lampugnani. 'O, construe thyself!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The Fool,' answered Montano, 'sees through us, that -is all.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What!' Visconti's brows came down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hush! He hath warned me—not finally; only he -pledges his silence on the discontinuance of my practices -on his cub.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well,' said Lampugnani serenely; 'discontinue.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Messer, he looks, with certainty, to the boy being -won back to court anon. How, then! shall we let him go?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No!' rapped out Visconti.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes,' said Lampugnani. 'I trow his good way is after -all our best. Let him go back, and make the State so -fast in love with Love as to prove Galeazzo impossible. -He will sanctify our holocaust for us.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But the Fool, Messer—the Fool!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Will never conspire against his adored master's -exaltation.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Exaltation? Would ye let this saint, then, to become -the people's idol?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, that we may discredit him presently for an -adulterous idol. No saint so scorned as he whose -sanctity trips on woman.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What! You think——?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Exactly—yes—the Duchess. </span><em class="italics">Vale</em><span>, Messer Montano!'—and -he lifted his cap mockingly, and moved off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the meanwhile Cicada, having watched, through a -slit of the unclosed door, the retreat and disappearance -of the philosopher, was about to shut himself in again, -with a muttered objurgation or two, when a rapid step -sounded without, and on the instant the door was flung -back against him, and Messer Lanti strode in. There -was no opportunity given him to temporise: the great -creature was there in a moment, and had recognised him -with a 'pouf!' of relief. He just accepted the situation, -and closed the door upon them both.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well,' he said acridly, 'here you be, and whether for -good or ill let the gods answer!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lanti stretched his great chest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is well, Fool; and I am well if he is well. Where -is he?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cicada pointed. The girl by the forge crouched and -glared unwinkingly. The next moment Carlo was in -his loved one's arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why hast hidden thyself, boy?—ah! it is a long while, -boy—good to see thee again—stand off—I cannot see -thee after all—a curse on these blinking eyes!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dear Carlo, I have been a little ill; my joints ached.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He wept himself, and fondled and clung to his friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou great soft bully! For shame! Why, I love -thee, dear. Wert thou so hurt? O Carlo! I have been -most ill in spirit.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Come back, and we will nurse thee.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas! What nurses!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The tenderest and most penitent—Bona, first of all.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The arms slid from his neck. Sweet angel eyes -glowered at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bona to heal my spirit? To pour fire into its wounds -rather! O, I had thought her pure till yesterday!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, indeed, Montano, in the furtherance of his -corroding policy, had spared him no evidences of court -scandal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo hung his bullet head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lucia!' cried the boy suddenly and sternly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl, at the word, came slinking to him like a dog, -setting her teeth by the way at the stranger. Bernardo -put his hand on her lowered head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dost know who this is?' he asked of Carlo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, I can guess.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Canst thou, and still talk of Bona's penitence? Here's -proof of it—in this foul deed unexpiated. Was it ever -meant it should be?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He raised his arm denunciatory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'They have used me to justify their abominations; -they have made mine innocence a pander to their lusts. -Beware! God's patience nears exhaustion. We wait -for Tassino. Will he come? Not while lewd arms -imprison and protect him. Talk to me of Bona! Go, -child.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl crept back to her former seat. Carlo burst -out, low and urgent:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, boy, you do the Duchess wrong; now, by Saint -Ambrose, I swear you do! She hath not set eyes on -Jackanapes since that day—believe it—nor knows, more -than another, what's become of him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I could enlighten her. Can she be so fickle?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What! Don't you want her fickle? You make my -brain turn.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O Carlo! What can such a woman see in such a man?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'God! You have me there. She's just woman, -conforming to the fashions.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, me! the fashions!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Woman's religion.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She was taught a better. The fashions! Her wedding-gown -should suffice her for all.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What! Night and day? But, there, I don't defend her!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, indeed. Art thyself a fashion.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I don't defend her, I say. I'm worn and cast aside too.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Poor fashion! You'll grace your mistress' tire-woman -next; and after her a kitchen-maid; and last some draggled -scarecrow of the streets. O, for shame, for shame!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go on. Compare me to Tassino next.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Indeed, I see no difference.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A low-born Ferrarese! A greasy upstart! Was -carver to the Duke, no better; and oiled his fingers in -the dish, and sleeked his hair!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, he was made first fashion. The Duchess sets -them.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now, by Saint Ambrose! First fashion! this veal-faced -scullion, this fat turnspit promoted to a lap-dog! -His fashion was to nurse lusty babies in his eyes!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What nursed thou in thine?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go to! I'm a numskull, that I know; but to see no -more in me!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I speak not for myself.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, these women, true, whom we hold so delicate—coarser -feeders than ourselves—their tastes a fable. -There, you're right; I've no right to talk.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not yet.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then, you're wrong. We've parted, I and Beatrice.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Carlo!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Didst think I 'd risk a quarrel with my saint on so -small a matter?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Carlo!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He flew upon the great creature and hugged him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My dear, my love! O, I went on so! Why did you -let me? O, you give me hope again!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There,' growled the honest fellow, still a little sulkily. -''Twas to please myself, not you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not me!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, if I did, please me by returning.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bernardo shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And seem to acquiesce in this?' He signified the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No seeming,' said Lanti. 'The Duchess promises to -abet you in everything. I was to say so, an I could find -thee.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How did you find me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let that pass. Will you come?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Will she hold Tassino to his bond?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She'll try to—I'll answer for it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Will she excuse the Countess of Casa Caprona from -her duties to her—for your sake, dear?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No need. The lady's a widow, and already self-dismissed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas, a widow! O Carlo, that heavy witness gone before!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I must stand it. Will you come?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why is this sudden change? I sore misdoubt it for -a fashion.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not sudden. I have her word the court goes all -astray without thee. She pines to mother thee.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mother!—an adulteress for mother! Alack, I am -humbled!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not so low as she. That touches the last matter. -She wants the ring back she lent thee.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The ring?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, the ring.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Carlo!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He searched his clothes and hands in amaze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My God! It's gone!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Gone? Look again.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I had it on my finger. Till this moment I had forgot -it clean—my brain so ached. Cicca!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned in trouble on his servant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I know nought of it,' growled the Fool. 'If you had -but chose to tell me. I am no gossip. Bona's ring was -it, and leased to thee? Mayhap the rain that night -washed it from thy finger.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If it were so—so great a trust abused! O Carlo! -What shall I do?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Come back and make thy peace with her.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet his brow gloomed, and he shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O, O!' choked Bernardo, noting him with anguish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She sent a message—I can't help myself,' grunted -Carlo. 'Did you seek to retaliate on her innocent -confidence by ruining her? She meant the ring—your -withholding it—'twas her troth-token from the Duke. Well, -this is like getting a woman into trouble.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bernardo cast himself with a cry upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will go back! I have no longer choice. I must -hold myself a hostage to that loss!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo let out his satisfaction in a growl. But Cicada, -squinting at the two, and rasping thoughtfully on his -chin, pondered a speculation into a conviction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Narcisso!' he mused, 'was it he took it? As sure as -he is a villain, it was Narcisso took it!'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xv"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The astutest of all the six Sforza brothers was, -without question, Messer Ludovico, at present -sojourning in the castello of Milan. No higher than -fourth in point of age, policy or premonition had never -ceased to present him to himself for the first in succession. -The uncertainty of life's tenure, unless ameliorated a -little by qualities of tact and conciliation like his own, -made him some excuse for this secret conviction. His -eldest brother was a monster of the order which, -in every age, invites tyrannicide; the Lord of Bari, the -second, an ease-loving, good-humoured monster of another -kind (he was to die shortly, in fact, of his own obesity), he -valued only as so much gross bulk of supineness to be -surmounted; Filippo, the third, was an imbecile, whose -very existence was already slipping into the obscurity -which was presently to spell obliteration. There remained -only, junior to himself, Ascanio, a nonentity, and -Ottaviano, a headstrong, irresponsible boy, whose possible -destiny concerned him as little as though he foresaw his -drowning, within the year, in the Adda river.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was true that one other, more shrilly self-assertive, -stood between himself and the light—the Duke's little -son, Gian-Galeazzo. Here, most people would have -thought, was his real insuperable barrier.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not regard matters from these popular points -of view. He was very patient and far-seeing. At the -outset of his career he had adopted for his device the -mulberry-tree, because he had observed it to be cautious -of putting forth its leaves until the last of winter was -assured. He could picture the fatherless child as the -most opportune of all steps to his exaltation. To climb -presently those little shoulders to the regency! It would -go hard with him but they sank gradually crushed under -his weight. This was the wise policy, to get his seat as -proxy, and through merciful and enlightened rule secure -its permanency. There was infinite scope in the reaction -he would make from a coarse and bloody despotism. -His nature hated violence; his reason recognised the -eternal insecurity of power built on it. Otherwise there -was little doubt he might, in that first emergency, strike -with good chance the straight usurper's stroke. His -name, for graciousness and refinement, already shone -like a star in the gross bog of Milan, revealing to it its -foulness. Men, in the shame of their fulsome bondage to -tyranny, looked up to him for hope and sympathy. He -was even </span><em class="italics">persona grata</em><span> with the people.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he abhorred, and disbelieved in, violence. He -would rule, if at all, in the popular recognition of great -qualities: he would prevail through bounty and tolerance. -Bona was his crux—Bona, and the secretary Simonetta, -a fellow incorruptibly devoted to the reigning family. -While these two lived in credit with the duchy, the -regency was secure from him, and the State, he told -himself, from progress. For what woman-regent had ever -mothered an era of enlightenment? Good for Milan, -good for Lombardy, could he once discredit and ruin -Bona and Simonetta. They would fall together. The -uses of Tassino as an instrument to this end had occurred -to him—only to be rejected. How could he hope so to -disgrace corruption in corruption's eyes? Such puppyish -intrigue was not worth even the Duke's interference. He -rated that curly perfumed head in Bona's lap at exactly -the value of a puppy's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, with the advent of the stranger, the little -pseudo-oracle, the child Tiresias, sweet and blind as Cupid, a -sounder opportunity offered. To involve Bona in the -defilement of this purity, in the violating of this holy -trust, adored by the people and bequeathed to her by her -lord—that was, in the vernacular, another pair of shoes. -He had noted, with secret gratification, her first -coquetting with the pretty toils. He had heard, with plenteous -dismay, of the boy's untimely secession. But he possessed, -almost alone in his tumultuous time, the faculty of -patience; and he was well served by his well-paid spies -and agents. Almost before he could order their reports, -almost before he could gauge the significance of one -especial piece of information they gave him, the boy, won -to forgiveness, was back at court again. Thenceforth he -saw his way smoothly, if any term so bland could be -applied to such a devious course of policy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That was a matter of cross-roads, leading from, or to, -himself, the mute signpost of direction. One, for instance, -pointed to Bona's disgrace through Bembo; another to -Simonetta's disgrace through Bona's disgrace; a third, to -Bembo's downfall; a fourth, and last, to his nephew's -orphaned minority. And the meeting-place, the nucleus, -of all these tendencies was—where he himself stood, on a -grave. For did they not bury suicides at cross-roads, and -was not Galeazzo's policy suicidal? Of all these birds -he might kill three, at least, with one stone; and that -stone, he believed, was already in his hand, or nearly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Let it not be supposed that Ludovico was a wicked -man. He was destined to bear one of the greatest of the -renaissance reputations; but that reputation was to draw -no less from munificence than from magnificence, from -tolerance than from power. He stood, at this time, on -the forehead of an epoch, feeling the promise of his -wings, poising and waiting only for their maturity. His -sympathies were all with progress, with moral emancipation. -He was even now, in Milan (if it can be said without -blasphemy), comparable to Christ in Hades. In a filthy -age he was fastidious; precise and delicate in his speech; -one of those men before whom the insolence of moral -offences is instinctively silent. Guicciardini, a grudging -Florentine, nevertheless pronounced him when he came -to rule, 'milde and mercifull'; Arluno credited him with -a sublimity of justice and benevolence. Others, less -interested, testified to his wisdom and sagacity, about -which there was certainly no disputing. If at any period -the wrong that is ready to perpetrate itself in order to -procure good is justifiable, it was to be justified in these -corrupt years, when conformity with usage spelt -putrefaction. He could foresee no health for the State in -patching its disease. He was the operator predestined by -Providence to remove, stock and block, the cancer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet, though loving truth, he lied; yet, though hating -the sight of blood, he procured its shedding; yet, though -admiring virtue, he did not hesitate to prostitute it to his -ends. There were crimes attributed to him of which he -was no doubt innocent; there were lesser, or worse, -unrecorded, of which he was no doubt guilty. Feeling -himself, by temperament and intellect, the inevitable -instrument of a vast emancipation, recognising his call to -be as peremptory as it was unconsidered, he had no -choice, in obeying it, but to cast scruples to the winds. -With him, as with his contemporary the English Richard, -a deep fervour of patriotism was at once the goad and -the destruction. Judgment on the means both took to -vindicate their commissions rests with the gods, who first -inspired, then repudiated them. But there is no logic in -Olympus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ludovico was sitting one evening in his private cabinet -in the castello, when a lady was announced to him by -the soft-voiced page. Every one instinctively subdued -his speech in the presence of Messer Ludovico, even the -rough venderaccios who occasionally came to make him -their reports or receive his instructions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lady came in, and stood silent as a statue by the -heavy portière, which, closed, cut off all eavesdropping as -effectively as a mattress. Nevertheless Messer Ludovico -waited for full assurance of the page's withdrawal before -he rose, and courteously greeted his visitor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ave, Madonna Beatrice!' he said. 'You are welcome -as the moonlight in my poor apartment.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was so far from being that, as to make the -compliment an extravagance. Yet the beauty of the woman in -her long black robe and mantle, and little black silk cap -dropping wings of muslin, sorted gravely enough with the -slumberous gold of picture frames under the lamplight, -and all the sombre sparkle of gems and glass and silver -with which the chamber was strewed in a considered -disorder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You sent for me, Messer, and I have come,' she said. -Her low, untroubled voice was quite in keeping with the -rest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Fie, fie!' he answered smoothly. 'I begged a privilege, -I begged an honour—with diffidence, of one so lately -stricken. Will you be seated while I stand?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As her subject, he meant to imply. She accepted the -condescension for what it was worth. He bent his heavy -eyebrows on her pleasantly. They were full and shaggy -for so young a man. Presently she found the silence -intolerable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You sent for me, Messer,' she repeated coldly. 'Will -you say on account of which of your interests?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'See the dangerous intuition of your sex!' he retorted -smilingly—'a weapon wont to cut its wielder's hand. On -account of </span><em class="italics">your</em><span> interest, purely.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She glanced up at him with insolent incredulity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'True,' he said. 'I desired only to save you the -consequences of an imprudence. That troth-ring, Madonna, -our Duchess's: is it not rather a perilous toy to play -with?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was startled, for all her immobility—so startled, -that he could see the breath jump in her bosom. But, -in the very gasp of her fear, she caught herself to -recollection, and stiffened, silent, to the ordeal she felt was -coming.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How did I know it was in your possession?' he said, -with a little whisper of a laugh. 'Your beauty is ever -more speaking than your lips, Madonna; but I am an -oracle: I can read the unspoken question. There is a -creature, Narcisso his name, once fellow to a loved servant -of our court. You know Messer Lanti? an honest, bluff -gentleman. He did well to part with such a dangerous -rogue. Why, the times are complicate: we should be -choice in our confidants. This Narcisso is very well to -slit a throat; but to negotiate a delicate theft——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused. 'Go on,' she whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will be frank as day,' he purred. ''Twas seen on -this rogue's finger, when making for your house. It was -not there when he left.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The gloating fool!' She stabbed out the words. -'Seen! By whom?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'By one,' he answered, 'whose business it was to look -for it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who, I say?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Most high lady, the very predestined man—no other. -Would you still ask who? I had thought you more -accomplished. Intrigue, like a statue, is not carved out -with a single tool. The eyes, the ears, the lips, each -demand their separate instrument. Dost thou seek to -shape all with one? O, fie, fie!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shook his finger gaily at her. She sat, frowning, -with her hands clenched before her; but she gave no -answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, I am but a tyro,' said the prince; 'yet could I -teach thee, it seems, some first precepts in our craft—as -thus: Use things most useful for their uses; employ not -your dagger as a shoe-horn, or it may chance to cut your -heel; an instrument hath its purpose and design; think -not one password will unlock all camps; selection is the -cream of policy—and so on.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She started to her feet, in an instant resolution.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have the ring,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bowed suavely. She stared at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What then, Messer?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why,' he said, 'only that, do you not think, it were -safer in my hands than in yours?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Safer!' she cried in a suppressed voice; 'for whom?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yourself,' he answered serenely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah!' she cried, 'you would threaten, if I refuse, to -destroy me with it?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He made a deprecating motion with his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Beware,' she said fiercely; 'I can retort. Where is -Tassino?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at her kindly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Madonna, do you not know? Nay, do I not know -that you know? He lies hidden in the burrow of this -same Narcisso.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'At whose instigation? Not yours, Messer—O no, of -course, not yours!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His lips never changed from their expression of smiling -good-humour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Entirely at mine,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave a little gasp. His subtlety was too chill a -thing for her fire; but she struggled against her -quenching by it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why do you not produce him, then? Do you not -know that he is cried for high and low? that he is wanted -to complete his contract with the armourer's drab? It -is an ill thing to cross, this present ecstasy of conversion. -We are all Bernardines now—lunatics—latter-day -Cistercians—raging neophytes of love.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'While the ecstasy lasts,' he murmured, unruffled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah!' she cried violently, 'yet may it last your time. -Fanaticism is no respecter of rank or service. Standest -thou so well with Bona? She would have racked the -racker himself in the first fury of her contrition—torn -confession from Jacopo's sullen throat with iron hooks, -had not her saint rebuked her. Tassino had been last -seen by him in the man's company, but, when they went -to look for him, he was gone. When or whither, the -fellow swore he knew not. It was like enough, thou -being the lure. Will you not produce him now, and save -your peace?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ludovico, regarding her vehemence from under -half-closed lids, exhibited not the slightest tremor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Madonna,' he said, 'thy mourning beauty becometh -thee like Cassandra's. Hast thou, too, so angered Apollo -with thy continence as to make him nullify in thee his -own gift of prophecy? Alas, that lips so moving must -be so discounted in their warnings!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She drew back, chilled and baffled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou wilt not?' she muttered. 'Well, then, thou wilt -not. Take thou thine own course; I may not know thy -purpose.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment the cold of him deepened to deadliness, -and his voice to an iron hardness:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nor any like thee—self-seekers—dominated by some -single lust. </span><em class="italics">My</em><span> purpose is a labyrinth of Cnossus. -Beware, rash fools, who would seek to unravel it!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her lips were a little parted; the fine wings of her -nostrils quivered. For all her bravery she felt her heart -constricting as in the frost of some terror which she -could neither gauge nor compass. But, in the very instant -of her fear, Ludovico was his own bland self again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tools, tools!' he said smiling—'for the eyes, the ears, -the lips. I shall take up this one when I need it, not -before. Meanwhile it lies ready to my hand.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I do not doubt thy cunning,' she said faintly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What then, Madonna?' he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She struggled with herself, swallowing with difficulty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Its adequacy for its purpose—that is all.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What purpose?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked up, and dared him:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'To destroy the Duchess.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed out, tolerantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Intuition! Intuition! O thou self-wounding -impulse! To destroy the Duchess? Well! What is thy -ring for? To destroy Monna Beatrice, belike. And -Monna Beatrice had her instrument too, they will say -afterwards—a blunt, coarse blade, but hers, hers -only—as she thought. Yet, it seems, one Ludovic used -something of him, this Narcisso, also—played him for his -ends—marked him down, even, for landlord to a fribble -called Tassino. What, Carissima! He hath not told -thee so much?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head dully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No?' mocked the Prince. 'And ye such sworn allies! -O sweet, you shall learn policy betimes! You will -not yield the ring? Well, there is Tassino, as you say. -Play him against it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She knew she dared not. The vague implication of -forces and understandings behind all this banter quite -cowed her. She had defied the serpent, and been struck -and overcome. Hate was no match for this craft. But -emotion remained. She dwelt a long minute on his -smooth, impenetrable face; then, all in an instant, yielded -up her sex, and stole towards him, arms and moist eyes -entreating.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I dared thee; I was wrong. Only——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her palms trembled on his shoulders; her bosom -heaved against his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have suffered, what only a woman can. O, Messer, -let me keep the ring!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her voice possessed him like an embrace; the soft -pleading of it made any concession to his kindness -possible. He was very sensitive to all emotions of -loveliness, but with the rare gift of reasoning in temptation. -He shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah!' she murmured, 'let me. Thou shalt find -jealousy a hot ally.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She pressed closer to him. He neither resisted nor -invited.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Most excellent sweetness,' he said gently. 'I melt -upon this confidence. Henceforth we'll bury misunderstanding, -and kiss upon his grave. But truth with sugar -is still a drug. A jealous woman is bad in policy. Trust -her always to destroy her betrayer, though through whatever -betrayal of her friends. Besides, forgive me, Messer -Bembo may yet prove accommodating.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that she dropped her hands and stepped back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is this to bury misunderstanding?' she cried low. -'O, I would </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> were Duchess of Milan.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'More impossible things might happen,' he said -thickly, for all his self-control.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stared at him fascinated a moment; then swiftly -advanced again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let me keep the ring,' she urged hoarsely. 'I could -set something against it—some knowledge—some information.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had mastered himself in the interval; and now -stood pondering upon her and fondling his chin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes?' he murmured. 'But it must be something to -be worth.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hesitated; then spoke out:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A plot to kill the Duke—no more.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two stared at one another. She could see a pulse -moving in his throat; but when at last he spoke, it was -without emotion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Indeed, Madonna? They are so many. When is -this particular one to be?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Do you not know?' she answered as derisively as -she dared. 'I thought you had a tool for everything. -Well, it is to be in Milan.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'In Milan—as before,' he repeated ironically. 'And -the heads of this conspiracy, Madonna?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah!' she cried, with a sigh of triumph; 'they are -yours at the price of the ring.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He canvassed her a little, but profoundly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'After all,' he murmured, 'why should I seek to know?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why?' she said, with a laugh of recovering scorn, -'why but to nip it in its bud, Messer?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was quick to grasp this implied menace of retaliation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tell me,' he said, 'why are you so hot to retain this -same ring?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'For only a woman's reason,' she answered. 'Wouldst -thou understand it? Not though I spoke an hour by -St. Ambrose' clock. I would deal the blow myself, in -my own way—that is all.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou wouldst ruin Bona?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, and her saint, who robbed me of my love.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'By her connivance? Marry, be honest, sweet lady. -Was it not rather Messer Bembo who denied you Messer -Bembo?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Will you have the names?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hold a little. Here's matter black enough, but -unsupported. I must have some proof. Tell me who's -your informant?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And have you go and bleed him? Nay, I am learning -my tools.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bravo!' he said, and kissed his hand to her. 'Well, -I see, we must call a truce awhile.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And I will keep the ring,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He beamed thoughtfully on her. No doubt he was -considering the possibility of improving the interval by -rooting out, on his own account, details of the secret she -held from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Provisionally,' he said pleasantly—'provisionally, -Madonna; so long as you undertake to make no use -of it until you hear from me my decision.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The longer that is delayed, the better for your purpose, -Messer,' she dared to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled blankly at her a little; then courteously -advancing, and raising her hand, imprinted a fervent -kiss on it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Though I fail to gather your meaning,' he said, 'it -is nevertheless certain that you would make a very -imposing Duchess, Monna Beatrice.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xvi"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'Father Abbot, we thank you for your trust. -We were less than human to abuse it. O, it -flew with white wings to shelter in our bosom! Shall we -be hawks to such a dove! Take comfort. It hath ruffled -its feathers on our heart; it hath settled itself thereon, -and hatched out a winged love. Pure spirit of the Holy -Ghost, whence came it? From a star, they say, born of -some wedlock between earth and sky. I marvel you -could part with it. I could never.... The pretty -chuck! What angel heresies it dares! "Marry," saith -the dove, "I have been discussing with Christ the subtleties -of dogmatic definition, and I find he is no Christian." This -for intolerance! He finds honesty in schism—speaks -with assurance of our Saviour, his discourses with Him -by the brook, in the garden, under the trees—but -doubtless you know. How can we refute such evidence, or -need to? Alas! we are not on speaking terms with -divinity. But we listen and observe; and we woo our -winsome dove with pretty scarves and tabbards -embroidered by our fingers; and some day we too hope to -hear the voices. Not yet; the earth clings to us; but -he dusts it off. "Make not beauty a passion, but passion -a beauty," says he. "Learn that temperance is the true -epicurism of life. The palate cloys on surfeit." O, we -believe him, trust me! and never his pretty head is -turned by our adoring.... "By love to make law -unnecessary,"—there runs his creed: the love of Nature's -truths—continence, sobriety, mate bound to mate like -birds. Only our season's life. He convinces us apace. -Already Milan sweetens in the sun. We curb all licence, -yield heat to reason, clean out many vanities; have our -choirs of pure maidens in place of the Bacchidæ—hymns, -too, meet to woo Pan to Christ, of which I could serve -thee an example.... All in all, we prepare for a great -Feast of the Purification which, at the New Year's beginning, -is to symbolise our re-conversion to Nature's straight -religion. Then will be a rare market in doves—let us -pray there be at least—which all, conscious of the true -virgin heart, are to bring. Doves! Alack! which of us -would not wish to be worthy to carry one that we know?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So wrote the Duchess of Milan to the Abbot of San -Zeno, and he answered:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Cherish my lamb. The fold yearns for him. He -would leave it, despite us all. My daughter, be gracious -to our little dreamer, for of such is the Kingdom of -Heaven.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For years after it was become the dimmest of odd -memories, men and women would recall, between laughter -and tears, the strange little moral fantasia which, during -a month or two of that glowing autumn of 1476, all -Milan had been tickled into dancing to the pipe of a -small shepherd of a New Arcadia. The measure had -certainly seemed inspiring enough at the time—potential, -original, weaving an earnest purpose with joy, revealing -novel raptures of sensation in the seemliness of postures, -which claimed to interpret Nature out of the very centre -of her spiritual heart. David dancing before the ark -must have exhibited just such an orderly abandonment -as was displayed by these sober-rollicking Pantheists of -the new cult. Crossness with them was sunk to an -impossible discount. There was no market for gallantry, -</span><em class="italics">épanchements</em><span>, or any billing and cooing whatever but of -doves. Instead, there came into vogue intercourses -between Dioneus and Flammetta of sweet unbashful -reasonableness; high-junkettings on chestnut-meal and -honey; the most engaging attentions, in the matter of -grapes and sweet biscuits and infinite bon-bons, towards -the little furred and feathered innocents of the -countryside. That temperance really was, according to the -angelic propagandist, the true epicurism, experience no -less astonishing than agreeable came to prove. Then -was the festival of beans and bacon instituted by some -jaded palates. Charity and consideration rose on all -sides in a night, like edible and nutritious funguses. -From Hallowmas to Christmas there was scarce a sword -whipped from its scabbard but reflection returned it. It -was no longer, with Gregory and Balthazar, 'Sir, do you -bite your thumb at me? Sir, the wall to you,' but 'Sir, -I see your jostling of me was unavoidable; Sir, your -courtesy turns my asps to roses.' Nature and the natural -decencies were on all tongues; the licences of eye and -ear and lip were rejected for abominations unpalatable to -any taste more refined than yesterday's. Modesty ruled -the fashions and made of Imola an Ippolita, and of -Aurelio an Augustine. The women, as a present result, -were all on the side of Nature. Impudicity with them -is never a cause but a consequence. They found an -amazing attractiveness in the pretty dogma which rather -encouraged than denounced in them the graceful arts of -self-adornment. 'Naked, like the birds,' attested their -little priest, 'do we come to inherit our Kingdom. Shall -we be more blamed than they for adapting to ourselves -the plumages of that bright succession?' Only he -pleaded for a perfect adaptation to conditions—to form, -climate, environments, constitution. The lines of all true -beauty, he declared, were such as both suggested and -defended. Could monstrosities of head furniture, for -instance, appeal to any but a monster? Locks, thereat, -were delivered from their fantastic convolutions, from -their ropes of pearls, from their gold-dust and iris-powder, -and were heaped or coiled </span><em class="italics">di sua natura</em><span>, as any girl, -according to circumstances, might naturally dispose of -them. There was a general holocaust of extravagances, -with some talk of feeding the sacrifice with fuel of useless -confessional boxes; and, in the meanwhile, the church -took snuff and smiled, and the devil hid his tail in a -reasonable pair of breeches, and endured all the -inconveniences of sitting on it without a murmur.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alas! 'How quick bright things come to confusion!' But -the moment while it held gathered the force of an -epoch; and no doubt much moral amendment was to -derive from it. Intellect in a sweet presence makes a -positive of an abstract argument; and when little Bembo -asserted, in refutation of the agnostics, that man's dual -personality was proved by the fact of his abhorring in -others the viciousnesses which his flesh condoned in -himself, the statement was accepted for the dictum of an -inspired saint. But his strength of the moment lay -chiefly in his undeviating consistency with his own queer -creed. He never swerved from his belief in the soul's -responsibility to its past, or of its commitment to a -retrogressive movement after death. 'We drop, fainting, -out of the ranks in a desolate place,' he said. 'We come -to, alone and abandoned. Shall we, poor mercenaries, -repudiating a selfish cause, not turn our faces to the -loved home, far back, from which false hopes beguiled -us? Be, then, our way as we have made it, whether by -forbearance or rapine.' Again he would say: 'Take, so -thy to-day be clean, no fearful thought for thy to-morrow, -any more than for thy possible estrangement from thy -friend. There is nothing to concern thee now (which is -all that </span><em class="italics">is</em><span>) but thy reason, love, and justice of this -moment. They are the faculty, devotion, and quality to -which, blended, thy soul may trust itself for its fair -continuance.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a little song of his, very popular with the -court gentlemen in these days of their regeneracy, which, -as exemplifying the strengths and weaknesses of his -propaganda, is here given:—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'Here's a comrade blithe</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To the wild wood hieth—</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Follow and find!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Loving both least and best,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His love takes still a zest</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>From the song-time of the wind.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The chuckling birds they greet him,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The does run forth to meet him—</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Follow and find!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Strange visions shall thou see;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Learn lessons new to thee</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>In the song-time of the wind.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Couldst, then, the dear bird kill</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That kiss'd thee with her bill?</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Follow and find</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>How great, having strength, to spare</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That trusting Soft-and-fair</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>In the song-time of the wind.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He is both God and Man;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He is both Christ and Pan—</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Follow and find</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>How, in the lovely sense,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>All flesh being grass, wakes thence</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>The song-time of the wind.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was, I say, popular with the Lotharios. The novelty -of this sort of renunciation tickled their sensoriums -famously. It suggested a quite new and captivating -form of self-indulgence, in the rapture to be gathered -from an indefinite postponement of consummations. The -sense of gallantry lies most in contemplation. I do not -think it amounted to much more. Teresa and Elisabetta -enjoyed their part in the serio-comic sport immensely, -and were the most cuddlesome lambs, frisking unconscious -under the faltering knife of the butcher. Madonna -Caterina laughed immoderately to see their great -mercy-pleading eyes coquetting with the greatly-withheld blade. -But then she had no bump of reverence. The little -wretch disliked sanctity in any form; loved aggressiveness -better than meekness; was always in her heart a -little Amazonian terrier-bitch, full of fight and impudence. -It might have gone crossly with Messer Bembo had she -been in her adoptive mother's position of trustee for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But luckily, or most unluckily for the boy, he was in -more accommodating hands. This was the acute period -of his proselytising. He had been persuaded back to -court, and Bona had received him with moist eyes and -open arms, and indeed a very yearning pathos of -emotionalism, which had gathered a fataler influence from -the contrition which in the first instance must be his. He -had stood before her not so much rebuking as rebuked. -Knowing her no longer saint, but only erring woman, it -added a poignancy to his remorse that he had led her -into further error by his abuse of her trust. She had -answered his confession with a lovely absolution:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What is lost is lost. Thou art the faithfullest warrant -of my true observance of my lord's wishes. Only if thou -abandon'st me am I betrayed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Could he do aught after this but love her, accept her, -her fervour and her penitence, for a first factor in the -crusade he had made his own? And, while the soft -enchantment held, no general could have wished a loyaler -adjutant, or one more ready to first-example in herself -the sacrifices he demanded. She abetted him, as she had -promised, in all his tactics; lent the full force of an -authority, which his sweetness and modesty could by no -means arrogate to himself, to compel the reforms he -sang. She gave, amongst other gifts, her whole present -soul to the righting of the wrong done to the girl Lucia -and her father; and when all her efforts to discover the -vanished Tassino had failed, and she, having sent on her -own initiative a compensatory purse of gold to the blind -armourer, had learned how Lucia had banged the gift -and the door in the messenger's face, was readily mollified -by Bernardo's tender remonstrance: 'Ah, sweet Madonna! what -gold can give her father eyes, or her child a name!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What! it is born?' she murmured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I saw it yesterday,' said Bembo. 'It lay in her lap, -like the billet that kills a woman's heart.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, indeed, he had not, because of his re-exaltation, -ceased to visit his friends, or to go to occasional discussion -with the crabbed Montano; whose moroseness, nevertheless, -was petrifying. Yet had he even sought to -interest the Duchess there; though, for once, without -avail; for she dared not seem to lend her countenance to -that banned, if injured, misanthrope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So she led the chorus to his soloing, and helped and -mothered him with an infatuation beyond a mother's. -Like the Emperor's jewelled nightingale, he was the -sweetest bird to pet while his tricks were new. His voice -entranced the echoes of those sombre chambers and -blood-stained corridors. The castello was reconsecrated -in his breath, and the miasma from its fearful pits -dispelled. His lute was his psalter and psaltery in one: it -interpreted him to others, and himself to himself. Its -sob was his sorrow, and its joy his jubilance. He could -coax from it wings to expression inexpressible by speech -alone. Here is one of his latest parables, or apologues, -baldly running, as it appears, on the familiar theme, which, -through that vehicle, he translated for his hearers into -rapture:—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'Down by a stream that muttered under ice—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Winter's thin wasted voice, straining for air—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Lo! Antique Pan, gnawing his grizzled beard.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Chill was the earth, and all the sky one stone,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The shrunk sedge shook with ague; the wild duck,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Squattering in snow, sent out a feeble cry.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Like a stark root the black swan's twisted neck</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Writhed in the bank. The hawk shook by the finch;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The stoat and rabbit shivered in one hole;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And Nature, moaning on a bedded drift,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Cried for delivery from her travail:—</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"O Pan! what dost thou? Long the Spring's delayed!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>O Pan! hope sickens. Son, where art thou gone?"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Thereat he heaved his brows; saw the starved fields,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The waste and horror of a world's eclipse;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And all the wrong and all the pity of it</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Rushed from him in a roar:—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"I'm passed, deposed: call on another Pan!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Call Christ—the ates foretel him—he'll respond.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I'm old; grown impotent; a toothless dog.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>New times, new blood: the world forgets my voice.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>This Christ supplants me: call on him, I say.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Whence comes he? Whence, if not from off the streets?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Some coxcomb of the Schools, belike—some green,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Anæmic, theoretic verderer,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Shaping his wood-lore from the Herbary,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And Nature from his brazen window-pots.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The Fates these days have gone to live in town—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Grown doctrinaires—forgot their rustic loves.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Call on their latest nominee—call, call!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He'll ease thee of thy produce, bear it home,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And in alembics test and recompose it.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Call, in thine agony—loud—call on Christ:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He'll hear maybe, and maybe understand!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"No Pan," she wailed: "No other Pan than thou!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"What!" roared he, mocking: "Christ not understand?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Your loves, your lores, your secrets—will he not?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Not by his books be master of your heart?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Gods! I am old. I speak but by the woods;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And often nowadays to rebel ears.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He'll do you better: fold your fogs in bales;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Redeem your swamps; sweep up your glowing leaves;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>People his straight pastures with your broods;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Shape you for man, to be his plain helpmeet;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>No toys, no tricks, no mysteries, no sports—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But sense and science, scorning smiles and tears."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Raging, he rose: A light broke on the snow:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The ice upon the river cracked and spun:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Long milky-ways of green and starry flowers</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Grew from the thaw: the trees nipped forth in bud:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The falcon sleeked the wren; the stoat the hare;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And Nature with a cry delivered was.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Pan stared: A naked child stood there before him,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Warming a frozen robin in his hands.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Shameless the boy was, fearless, white as milk;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>No guile or harm; a sweet rogue in his eyes.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he looked up and smiled, and lisped a word:—</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Brother, </span><em class="italics">thou</em><span> take and cure him, make him well.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or teach </span><em class="italics">me</em><span> of thy lore his present needs."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Brother!</em><span>" choked Pan. "</span><em class="italics">My</em><span> father was a God.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who art thou?" "Nature's baby," said the child.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Man was </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> father; and my name is Christ."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He slid his hand within the woodman's palm:—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Dear elder brother, guide me in my steps.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I bring no gift but love, no tricks but love's—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To make sweet flowers of frost—locked hearts unfold—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The coney pledge the weasel in a kiss.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Canst thou do these?" "No, by my beard," said Pan.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Gaily the child laughed: "Clever brother thou art;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yet can I teach thee something." "All," said Pan.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He groaned; the child looked up; flew to his arms:—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"O, by the womb that bore us both, do love me!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A minute sped: the river hushed its song:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The linnet eyed the falcon on its branch:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The bursting bud hung motionless—And Pan</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Gave out a cry: "New-rooted, not deposed!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Come, little Christ!" So hand in hand they passed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Nature's two children reconciled at last.'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And what about Messer Lanti and the Fool Cicada -during this period of their loved little saint's apotheosis? -Were </span><em class="italics">they</em><span> more </span><em class="italics">advocati diaboli</em><span> than Bona? Alas! they -were perhaps the only two, in all that volatile city, to -accept him, with a steadfast and indomitable faith, at his -true worth. There was no angelic attribute, which Carlo, -the honest blaspheming neophyte, would not have claimed -for him—with blows, by choice; no rebuke, nor suggestion, -nor ordinance issuing from his lips, which he would -not accept and act upon, after the necessary little show -of self-easing bluster. It was as comical as pathetic to -observe the dear blunderhead's blushing assumptions of -offence, when naughtiness claimed his intimacy; his -exaggerated relish of spring water; his stout upholding, -on an empty stomach, of the æsthetic values of abstinence. -But he made a practical virtue of his conversion, and was -become frequent in evidence, with his strong arm and -voice and influence, as a Paladin on behalf of the -oppressed. He and Cicada were the boy's bristling -watch-dogs, mastiff and lurcher; and were even drawn, -by that mutual sympathy, into a sort of scolding partnership, -defensive and aggressive, which had for its aim the -vindication of their common love. There, at least, was -some odd rough fruit of the reconciliation preached by -little Bembo between the God-man and the man-Nature. -Such a relationship had been impossible in the old days -of taskmaster and clown. Now it was understood between -them, without superfluous words, that each held the other -responsible to him for his incorruptible fidelity to his -trust, and himself for a sleepless attention to the duty -tacitly and by implication assigned to be his. That is to -say, Messer Carlo's strength and long sword, and the -other's shrewd wit, were assumed, as it were, for the right -and left bucklers to the little charioteer as he drove upon -his foes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo had a modest conception of his own abilities; -yet once he made the mistake of appropriating to himself -a duty—or he thought it one—rather appertaining to his -fellow buckler. They had been, the Fool and himself, -somewhat savagely making merry on the subject of Bona's -conversion—in the singleness of which, to be candid, -they had not much faith—when his honest brain -conceived the sudden necessity of bluntly warning the little -Bernardino of the danger he was courting in playing with -such fire. His charge, no sooner realised than acted upon, -took the boy, so to speak, in the wind. Bembo gasped; -and then counter-buffed with angelic fury:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who sleeps with a taper in his bed invites his own -destruction? Then wert thou sevenfold consumed, my -Carlo. O, shame! she is my mother!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, but by adoption,' stammered the other abashed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Her assumption of the name should suffice to spare -her. O, thou pagan irreclaimable—right offspring of -Vesta and the incestuous Saturn! Is this my ultimate -profit of thee? Go hide thy face from innocence.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lanti, thus bullied, turned dogged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will hide nothing. Abuse my candour; spit on my -love if thou wilt, it will endure for its own sake,' and he -flung away in a rage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he had better have deputed the Fool to a task -needing diplomacy. Cicada laughed over his grievance -when it was exploded upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Shouldst have warned Bona herself, rather,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How!' growled the other: 'and been cashiered, or -worse, for my pains?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not while her lost ring stands against her; and thou, -her private agent for its recovery.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'True; from the mud.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, if thou think'st so.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dost thou not?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay; for as mud is mud, Narcisso is Narcisso.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Narcisso!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He roared, and stared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Has </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> got it?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I do not say so.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will go carve the truth out of him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Or Monna Beatrice.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The great creature fairly gasped; then muttered, in a -strangled voice: 'Why should she want it? What profit -to her?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What, indeed?' whined the Fool. 'She fancies Messer -Bembo too well to wish to injure him, or through him, -Bona—does she not?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo's brow slowly blackened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will go to her,' he said suddenly. The Fool leapt -to bar his way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You would do a foolish thing,' he said—'with deference, -always with deference, Messer. This is my part. -Leave it to me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo choked, and stood breathing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why,' said the Fool, 'these are the days of -circumspection. God, says Propriety, made out hands and -faces, and whatever else that is not visible was the -devil's work. You would be shown, by Monna Beatrice, -for all her self-acknowledged parts, just clean hands and -a smiling face. She conforms to fashion. For the rest, -the devil will attend to his own secrets.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other groaned:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I would I could fathom thee. I would I had the ring.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I would thou hadst,' answered Cicada. ''Twould be -a good ring to set in our Duchess's little nose, to -persuade her from routling in consecrated ground: a juster -weapon in thy hands than in some other's. Well, be -patient; I may obtain it for thee yet.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He meant, at least, to set his last wits to the task. -Somehow, he was darkly and unshakably convinced, this -same Lion ring was the pivot upon which all his darling's -fortunes turned. That it was not really lost, but was -being held concealed, by some jealous spirit or spirits, -against the time most opportune for procuring the boy's, -and perhaps others', destruction by its means, he felt -sure. All Milan was not in one mind as to the disinterested -motives of its Nathan. Tassino, Narcisso, the -dowager of Casa Caprona, even the urbane Messer -Ludovico himself, to name no others, could hardly be -shown their personal profits in the movement. They -might all, as the world's ambitions went, be excused from -coveting the stranger's promotion. And there was no -doubt that, at present, he was paramount in the eyes of -the highest. That, in itself, was enough to make his sweet -office the subject of much scepticism and blaspheming. -Tough, wary work for the watch-dogs, Cicada pondered. -That same evening he was walking in the streets, -when a voice, Visconti's, muttered alongside him:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good Patch, hast been loyal so far to thy bargain. -Hold to it for thy soul's sake. There are adders in -Milan.' Then he bent closer, and whispered: 'A word -in thy ear: is the ring found yet?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Fool's hard features did not twitch. He shook -his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Marry, sir,' answered he, as low, 'the mud is as close -a confidant as I. I have not heard of its blabbing.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So much the better,' murmured the other, and glided -away. But he left Cicada thinking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It was not for them, then, the conspirators, that -Narcisso stole it. And yet he stole it—that I'll be sworn. -For whom? Why, for Monna Beatrice. For why? -Why, for a purpose that I'll circumvent—when I guess it. -A passenger going by cursed him under his breath. -The oath, profound and heartfelt, was really a psychologic -note in the context of this history. Cicada heard it, and, -looking round, saw, to his amazement, the form of the -very monster of his present deliberations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Narcisso, the rancorous mongrel, having snarled his -hatred of an old associate, who, he verily believed, had -once betrayed him, slouched, with a heavier vindictiveness, -on his way. The Fool, inspired, skipped into cover, -and peeped. He knew that the coward creature, once -secure of his distance, would turn round to sputter and -glower. He was not wrong there, nor in his surmise -that, finding him vanished, Narcisso would continue his -road in reassurance of his fancied security. He saw him -actually turn and glare; distinguished, as plainly as -though he heard it, the villainous oath with which the -monster flounced again to his gait. And then, very -cautiously, he came out of his hiding, and slunk in pursuit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It could serve, at least, no bad purpose, he thought, to -track the beast to his lair; and, with infinite circumspection, -he set himself to the task.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It proved a simple one, after all—the more so as the -animal, it appeared, was tenant in a very swarming -warren, where concealment was easy. It was into a -frowzy hole that, in the end, he saw him disappear—a -tunnel, with a grating over it, like a sewer-trap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so, satisfied and not satisfied, he was turning -away, when he was conscious in a moment of a face -looking from the grating.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A minute later, threading his path along a by-alley, he -emerged upon a sweeter province of the town, and stood -to disburden himself of a mighty breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So!' he muttered: 'He is there, is he! Well, the -plot grows complicate.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xvii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>There was a quarter of Milan into which the new -light penetrated with some odd uncalculated -effects. It was called, picturesquely enough, 'The -Vineyard,' and as such certainly produced a great quantity of -full-blooded fruit. Vines that batten on carrion grow -fat; and here was the mature product of a soil so -enriched. There was no disputing its appetising quality. -That derived from the procreant old days of paganism, -before the germ of the first headache had flown out of -Pandora's box into a bung-hole. 'The Vineyard's' -body yet owed to tradition, if centuries of adulteration -had demoralised its spirit. Still, altogether, it was -faithfuller of the soil, self-consciously nearer to the old -Nature, than was ever the extrinsic Guelph or Ghibelline -that had usurped its kingdom. Wherefore, it seemed, it -had elected to construe this new reactionism, this -</span><em class="italics">redintegratio amoris</em><span>, this sudden much-acclaiming of -Nature, into a special vindication of itself, its tastes, -methods and appetites, as representing the fundamental -truth of things; and, </span><em class="italics">ex consequenti</em><span>, to appropriate Messer -Bembo for its own particular champion and apologist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alas, poor Parablist! There is always that awakening -for an enlightened agitator in any democratic mission. -Does he look for some comprehension by the Demos of -the necessity of </span><em class="italics">radical</em><span> reform, his eyes will be painfully -opened. The pruning, by its leave, shall never be among -the suckers down by the root, but always among the -lordly blossoms. Shall Spartacus once venture openly to -stoop with his knife, he shall lose at a blow the popular -suffrage. At a later date, Robespierre, who was not -enlightened, had to subscribe to the misapplication of -his own reforms, or be crushed by the demon he had -raised. Here in Milan, 'The Vineyard' was the first to -renounce its champion, when once it found itself to be -intimately included in that champion's neo-Christianising -scheme.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alas, poor Parablist! Not Reason but Fanaticism is -the convincing reformer! the bigot, not the saint, the -effective drover of men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the meanwhile 'The Vineyard' swaggered and -held itself a thought more brazenly than heretofore, on -the strength of its visionary election. Always a clamorous -rookery, one might have fancied at this time a certain -increase in the boisterous obscenity of its note, as that -might presage the fulfilment of some plan for its breaking -out, and planting itself in new black colonies all over -the city. But as certainly, if this were so, its -illusionment was a very may-fly's dance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now as, on a noon of this late Autumn, we are brought -to penetrate its intricacies, a certain symbolic fitness in -its title may or may not occur to us. Supposing that it -does, we will accept this Via Maladizione where we -stand, this gorge of narrow high-flung tenements, looped -between with festoons of glowing rags, for the supports -and dead trailers of a gathered vintage. Below, the vats -are full to brimming, and the merchants of life and death -forgathered in the markets. Half-way down the street -a little degraded church suddenly spouts a friar, who, -punch-like, hammers out on the steps his rendering of -the new nature, which is to remember its cash obligations -to Christ, and so vanishes again in a clap of the door. -A barber, shaving a customer in the open street, gapes -and misses his stroke, thereby adding a trickle to the -sum of the red harvest. Mendicants pause and grin; -oaths rise and buzz on all sides, like dung-flies momentarily -disturbed. And predominant throughout, the vintagers, -the true natives of the soil, swarm and lounge and -discuss, under a rent canopy, the chances of the season -and its likely profits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ivory and nut-brown are they all, these vintagers, -with cheeks like burning leaves, and hair blue-black as -grape-clusters, and eloquent animal eyes, and, in the -women, copious bosoms half-veiled in tatters, like gourds -swelling under dead foliage. But the milk that plumps -these gourds is still of the primeval quality. Tessa's -passions are of the ancient dimensions, if her religion is -of to-day. Her assault and surrender borrow nothing -from convention. No billing and rhyming for her, with -canzonarists and madrigalists under the lemon trees, in -the days when the awnings are hung over to keep the -young fruit from scorching; but rough pursuit, rather, -and capture and fulfilment—all uncompromising. She -is here to eat and drink and love, to enjoy and still -propagate the fruits of her natural appetites. She does not, -like Rosamonda, brush her teeth with crushed pearls; -she whets and whitens them on a bone. She does not -powder her hair with gold dust; the sun bronzes it for -her to the scalp. No spikenard and ambergris make her -rags, or perfumed water her body, fragrant for her -master's mouthing. Yet is she desirable, and to know -her is to taste something of the sweetness of the apple -that wrought the first discord. She is still a child of -Nature, though Messer Bembo's creed surpasses her best -understanding. She loves burnt almonds and barley-sugar, -and crunches them joyously whenever some public -festival gives her the chance; but the instincts of order -and self-control are long vanished from the category of -her qualities, and she survives as she is more by virtue of -her enforced than her voluntary abstinences. For the -rest, civilisation—the civilisation that always -encompasses without touching, without even understanding -her—has made her morals a terror, and the morals of most -of her comrades, male or female, of 'The Vineyard.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is, in fact, the sink of Milan, is this vineyard—a -very low quarter indeed; and, it is to be feared, other -red juice than grapes' swells the profits from its vats. -Here are to be found, and engaged, a rich selection of -the tagliacantoni, the hired bravos who kill on a sliding -scale of absolution, with fancy terms for the murder -which allows no time for an act of contrition. Here the -soldier of fortune, who has gambled away, with his -sword and body-armour, the chances of an engagement -to cut throats honestly, festers for a midnight job, and -countersigns with every vein he opens his own compact -with the devil. Here the oligarchy of beggars has its -headquarters, and composes its budgets of social -taxation; and here, finally, in the particular den of one -Narcisso, desperado and ladrone, hides and shivers -Messer Tassino, once a Duchess's favourite.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He does not know why he is hidden here, or for what -purpose Messer Ludovico beguiled and threatened him -from the more sympathetic custody of his friend Jacopo, -to deposit him in this foul burrow. But he feels himself -in the grip of unknown forces, and he fears and shivers -greatly. He is always shivering and snuffling is Messer -Tassino; whining out, too, in rebellious moods, his pitiful -resentments and hatreds. His little garish orbit is in -its winter, and he cries vainly for the sun that had -seemed once to claim him to her own warmth and -greatness. He has heard of himself as renounced by -her, condemned, and committed, on his detested rival's -warrant, to judgment by default. Yet, though it be -to save his mean skin, he cannot muster the moral -courage to come forth and right the wrong he has done. -That, he knows, would spell his last divorce from -privilege; and he has not yet learned to despair. He -had been so petted and caressed, and—and there are -no lusty babies to be gathered from Messer Bembo's -eyes. At least, he believes and hopes not; and, in the -meanwhile, he will lie close, and await developments a -little longer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps, after all, there is knowledge if little choice in -his decision. He may be justified, of his experience, -in being sceptical of the disinterestedness of spiritual -emotionalism, or at least of the feminine capacity for -accepting its appeal disinterestedly. But of this he -is quite sure—that sanctity itself shall not propitiate, -by mere virtue of its incorruptibility, the woman it -has scorned; and, in that certainty, and by reason of -that experience, he nurses the hope of still profiting by -the revulsion of feeling which he foresees will occur -in a certain high lady as a consequence of her rebuff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still, however that may chance, he finds his present -state intolerable. It is not so much its dull and filthy -circumstance that appals him, though that is noxious -enough to a boudoir exquisite; it is the shadow of -Messer Ludovico's purpose, shapeless, indistinct, eternally -conning him from the dark corners of his imagination, -which takes the knees out of his soul. Is he really -his friend and patron, as he professes to be? He recalls, -with a sick shudder, how once, when in the full-flood -of his arrogance, he had dared to keep that smooth and -accommodating prince waiting in an ante-room while -he had his hair dressed. He, Tassino, the fungus of a -night, had ventured to do this! What a fool he had -been; yet how worse than his own folly is the -dissimulation which can ignore for present profit so unforgettable -an insult! It is not forgotten; it cannot be; yet, to -all appearances, Ludovico now visits him, on the rare -occasions when he does so, with the sole object of -informing him, sympathetically, of the progress of Bona's -new infatuation. Why? He has not the wit to fathom. -Only he has not so much faith in this disinterestedness -as in the probability of its being a blind to some deadly -policy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How he hates them all—the Duchess, the Prince, the -whole world of courtly rascals who have flattered him -out of his obscurity only to play with and destroy him! -If he can once escape from this trap, he will show them -he can bite their heels yet. But what hope is there of -escaping while Ludovico holds the secret of the spring? -Day after day finds him gnawing the bars, and -whimpering out his spite and impotence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He has not failed, of course, to question his landlord -Narcisso, or to weep over the futile result. Even if the -little wretch's tact and wit were less negligible quantities, -there is that of crafty doggedness in his gaoler to baffle -the shrewdest questioner. Deciding that the man is in -the paid confidence of the 'forces,' Tassino soon desists -from attempting to draw him, and vents on him instead -his whole soul of vengeful and disappointed spite.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Narcisso, for his part, offers himself quite submissively -to the comedy; waits on him with a sniggering deference; -stands while he eats; brings water, none the most -fragrant, for him to dip his fingers in afterwards; dresses -his hair with a broken comb, and takes his own dressing -for pulling it with a grinning impassivity; lends, in -short, his huge carcass in every way to be the other's -butt and footstool. This exercise in overbearance is -a certain relief to the prisoner; but, for all the rest, -his time hangs deadlily on his hands. There are no -restrictions placed upon him. He is free to come and -go—as he dares. His terror is held his sufficient gaoler, -and it suffices. He never, in fact, puts his nose outside -the door, but contents himself, like the waspish little -eremite he has become, with criticising and cursing from -his solitary grille the limbs and lungs and life of the -f[oe]tid world in which his later fortunes seem cast. So -much for Messer Tassino!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One particular night saw him cowering before the -caldano, or little domestic brazier, which must serve his -present need in lieu of hotter memories; for the season -was chilling rapidly, and what freshness had ever been -in him was long since starved out. He was grown a -little grimy and unkempt in these days, and his clothes -were stale. The room in which he sat was, in its -meanness and squalor, quite typically Vineyardish. Its -furniture was of the least and rudest; it had not so -much as a solitary cupboard to hold a skeleton; it was -as naked to inspection as honesty. That was its -owner's way. Narcisso was a very Dacoit in carrying -all his simple harness on and about him. He cut his -throats and his meat impartially with the same knife; -or toasted, as he was doing now, slices of Bologna -sausage on its point. His abortive scrap of a face -puckered humorously, as the other, drawing his cloak -tighter about him, damned the pitiful dimensions of -their hearth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I would not curse the fire for its smallness, Messer,' -he said. 'Wilt need all thy breath some day for blowing -out a furnace.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tassino wriggled and snarled:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'May'st think so, beast; but I know myself damned -as an unbaptized one, to no lower than the first circle -of our Father Dante.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wert thou not baptized?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Do I not say so? And, therefore, lacking that grace, -exonerated.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What's that?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not responsible for my acts, pig.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who says so?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dante.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who's he? Has a' been there? I would not believe -him. What doth a' say o' me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">You</em><span>? That you shall choke for all eternity in a -river of blood.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Anan!' said Narcisso, and blew, scowling, on his -sausage, which had become ignited. 'That's neither -sense nor justice, master. I kill by the decalogue, I do. -Did I ever put out a man's eyes for sport?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's no matter,' answered Tassino. 'Thou wert -baptized.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What will they do to thee?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I shall be forbidden the Almighty's countenance, no -more—punishment enough, of course, for a person of -taste; but I must e'en make shift to do without.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's not fair,' growled Narcisso. 'I had no hand in -my own christening. Do without? Narry penalty in -doing without what you've never asked nor wanted.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A figure that had stolen noiselessly into the room as -they spoke, and was standing watching, with its cloak -caught to its face, sniggered, literally, in its sleeve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tassino snapped rebelliously at the knife point, and -began to eat without ceremony.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Punishment enough,' he whined, 'if it means such a -life in death as this.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sobbed and munched, quarrelling with his meat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How canst thou understand! The foul fiend betray -him who condemned me to it! That saint; O, that -saint! If I could only once trip </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> soul by the -heels!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No need, my poor Tassino,' murmured a sympathetic -voice; 'indeed, I think, there is no need.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The prisoner staggered from his stool, and stood -shaking and gulping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Messer Ludovico!' he gasped. 'How——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'By the door, my child—plainly, by the door,' interrupted -the Prince smoothly. And then he smiled: 'Alas! thou -hast no ante-room here for the scotching of -undesirable suitors.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The terrified creature had not a word to say. One -could almost hear his fat heart thumping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ludovico, lowering his cloak a little, made an acrid -face. The room offended his particular nostrils: its -atmosphere was nothing less than sticky. But, reflecting -on the choice moral of it, he looked at the little tarnished -clinquant before him, and was content to endure. He -even affected a pleasant envy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This is worth all the glamour of courts,' he said, -waving his hand comprehensively. 'To eat, or lie down; -to go in or out as thou will'st. Never to know that -suspicion of thine own shadow on the wall. To waste no -words in empty phrases, nor need the wealth to waste on -empty show. What a rich atmosphere hath this untroubled, -irresponsible freedom; it is a very meal of itself! -I would I could say, For ever rest and grow fat thereon; -but, alas! I bring discomforting news. My poor Tassino. -I fear the fortress at last shows signs of yielding.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little wretch opposite him whimpered as if at a -whip-cut.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is it so indeed? Then, Messer Ludovico, it is a foul -shame of her. She hath betrayed me—may God requite -her!' He snivelled like a grieved child; then, on a -sudden thought, looked up, with a child's cunning. 'At -least in that case I shall be forgotten. There can be no -object in my hiding here longer.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Prince lifted his eyebrows, with an inward-drawn -whistle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Object? Object?' he protested, acting amazement. -'But more than ever, my poor simpleton. Thy case is -double-damned thereby. Think you the other would -rest on the thought of a rival, and such a rival, at large? -Thy very existence would be a menace to his guilty -peace. I come, indeed, as a friend to warn thee. Lie -close; stir not out; the very air hath knives. Be cautious, -even of thy shadow on the wall, of thy hand in the dish.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He said it calmly and distinctly, looking towards -Narcisso, who all this time had stood hunched in the -background, his dull brain struggling bewildered in a -maze. But the urgency of this innuendo penetrated even -him; the more so when he saw Tassino leap and fling -himself on his knees at the Prince's feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What do you mean?' shrieked the young man. 'Is -</span><em class="italics">he</em><span> in their pay? O Messer, save me! don't let me be -poisoned.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He pawed and grovelled, looking madly over his -shoulder. Ludovico laughed gently, disregarding him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, I know not,' he cooed. 'It is a dog that serves -more masters than one.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Narcisso slouched forward, and ducked a sort of -obeisance between sullen and deferential.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What's to-do?' he growled. 'I serve my patron, -Messer Duke's son, like an honest man. What call, I -say, to warn 'en of me? Do I not earn my wages fairly?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Scarcely, fellow,' murmured Ludovico—'unless to -betray thine employer be fair.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Narcisso scowled and lowered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Betray!' he protested, but uneasily. 'That is a charge -to be proved, Messer.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ludovico suddenly leapt to a blaze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dog! Wouldst bandy with me, dog? Beware, I -say! Who blabbed my secrets to the lady of Casa -Caprona?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was himself again with the cry. His faculty of -instant self-control was a thing quite fearful. Narcisso -cowered before him; shrunk under the playful wagging -of his finger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Messer—in the Lord's name!' he could only -stammer—'Messer!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O thou fond knave!' complained the Prince, showing -his teeth in a smile; 'to think to play that double game, -one patron against another, and stake thine empty wits -against the reckoning! Well, thou art confessed and -damned.' He drew back a pace. 'But one word more,' -he said, raising his voice. 'What hast thou to plead that -I call not up those that will silence for ever thy false, -treacherous tongue?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stood by the door. It was a very reasonable -inference that he had not ventured into such a quarter -unattended. Narcisso stood gasping and intertwining -his thick fingers, but he could find no words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What!' smiled Ludovico; 'no excuse, no explanation? -No answer of any kind? Shall I call, then?' He -seemed to hesitate. 'Yet perhaps one loop-hole, -though undeserved, I'll lease thee on condition.' He -moved again forward a little, and spoke in a lower tone: -'There's news wanted of a certain stolen ring. Dog! do -I not know who thieved it, and for whom? Now shalt -thou undertake to go yet once again, and, robbing the -receiver, bring the spoil to me—or be damned here and -now for thy villainy.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He thought he had netted at last the quarry of his -long, patient stalking; but for once his confidence was at -fault. Watching intently for the effect of his words, he -grew conscious of some change transfiguring, out of -terror and astonishment, the face of his victim. Foul, -ignoble, animal beyond redemption as that was in all its -features, its swinish eyes could yet extract and emit, it -seemed, from the thin, dead ashes of some ancient fire, a -stubborn spark of self-renunciation. He could read it in -them unmistakably. The man stood straight before -him, for the first and only time in his life, a hero.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ludovico gazed in silence. He found, to do him the -right justice, this psychic revelation of acuter interest to -him than his own defeat foreseen in the light of it. But -Tassino's subdued whimpering jarred him out of his -abstraction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, is it agreed?' he asked with a sigh. For the -moment he almost shrunk in the apprehension of an -affirmative reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rogue drew himself suddenly together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Call, Messer,' he said. 'That is my answer.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His chin dropped on his breast. Tassino uttered a -cry, and hid his face in his hands. Not a word or -apparent movement followed; but when, goaded by the -fearful stillness, the two dared to look up once more, they -found themselves alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, at that, Tassino shrieked and sprang to the grille.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My God!' he sobbed; 'he has gone, and left me to my -fate!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He moved to escape by the door, but Narcisso caught -and wrenched him back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What ails the fool!' he protested in his teeth. 'My -orders be to keep, not kill thee, man!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Messer Ludovico, walking enveloped within a little -cloud of his adherents, smiled to himself on his way back -to the palace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The fascination of the serpent,' mused he, shaking his -head—'the fascination of the serpent! How could that -crude organism be expected to resist the arts of our -Lamia, when I myself could fall near swooning to them? -Hath he betrayed me to others? I think not; yet it -were well to have him silenced betimes. The weakness -was to threaten where I dared not yet perform. Yet it -may chance, after all, he shall come to be prevailed on -for the ring.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The ring!' he muttered, as he climbed presently to -his chamber—'the ring! I think it comes to zone the -world in my imagination!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he was passing through the ante-room to his private -closet, a draped and voiceless figure moved suddenly out -of the shadows to accost him. He gave the faintest -start, then offered his hand, and, without a word, ushered -this strange ghost into his sanctum. The portière swung -back, the door clanged upon them, and there on the -threshold he dwelt, looking with a silent, smiling -inquisition into the eyes of his visitor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hast thou ever seen the dead, leafy surface of a -woodland pool stir, scarce perceptibly, to the movement of -some secret thing below? So, as Beatrice stood like a -statue before the Prince, did the soul of her reveal itself -to him, writhing somewhere under the surface of that -still mask.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then suddenly, swiftly, passionately, she thrust out a -hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There is the ring,' she said. 'Do what you will with it.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xviii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>That same evening had witnessed, in the dower -Casa Caprona, the abortive finish to a venture -long contemplated by its mistress, and at length, in a -moment of desperation, dared. She had wrought herself, -or been wrought at this last, into privately communicating -to the little Saint Magistrate of Milan, how she -had certain information where the ring lay, which if he -would learn, he must follow the messenger to her house. -She had claimed his utmost confidence and secrecy, and, -on that understanding alone, had procured herself an -interview. And Bernardo had come, and he had gone—how, -her tumbled hair, her self-bruised bosom, her -abandonment to the utter shame and fury of her defeat, were -eloquent witnesses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had not been able to realise her own impotence to -disarm an antagonist already half-demoralised, as she -believed this one to be. For, before ever she had -precipitated this end, gossip had been busy whispering to -her how the saint was beginning to melt in the sun of -adulation, to confess the man in the angel, to inform with -a more than filial devotion his attitude towards Bona. -To have to cherish yet hate that thought had been her -torture; to anticipate its consummation her frenzy. She -had known him first; he was hers by right. Long -wasting in the passion of her desire, she had conceived -of its fruition a savour out of all proportion with her -experiences. She must conquer him or die. He was hers, -not Bona's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had disciplined herself, in order to propitiate his -prejudices, into the enduring of a decent period of -retirement. It must end at last. She never knew when -Ludovico might exact from her that security, held by her -conditionally only, against her ruin by him. For the -present indeed she retained the ring, but any moment -might see it claimed from her. Now, if she could only -once lure, and overcome by its means, the object of her -passion, the question of its restoration to, or use by -another against, its owner, must necessarily cease of being -an acute one with either her or Bernardo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With him, at least—with him, at least. And as for -herself?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Turning where she lay, she had seen her own insolent -smile reflected from a mirror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He said,' she had whispered, pondering some words -of Ludovico's, '</span><em class="italics">More impossible things might happen</em><span>.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, taking the ring from her bosom, and apostrophising -its green sparkle softly:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A little star—a little bribe, to win me both love and -a throne!' she had said, and so had sunk back, closing -her eyes, and murmuring:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let it only prove its power here, and it and the heads -of that conspiracy shall be all Ludovico's. He will not -claim the latter, I think, until their purpose is -accomplished. And then——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then Messer Ludovico himself had been announced. -He visited her not infrequently in these days, though -never, it seemed, with any purpose of foreclosing on that -little mortgage of the ring. He came in the fashion of -a confidential gossip, to enlighten her as to the doings of -the world outside. They were very pleasant and intimate -together, with a hint, no more, of closer relations to -come. The lion rolled in a silken net, and affected his -subjugation, as the lady affected not to notice the stealthy -claws of her capture. It was a pretty little comedy, -which engaged the sympathies of both, each according to -its temperament. But it ended in tragedy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ludovico had, indeed, no interest in dissuading his -beautiful gossip's mind from its tormenting suspicions as -to the Messer Saint's gradual corruption by Bona; a -scandal to which, no doubt—the wish in him being father -to the thought—he himself gave ready credence. The -report suited him in every way, both as to his policy and -its instruments; and he only awaited its certain -substantiation to let fly the bolt which was to involve three -fortunes in one ruin—under warrant of the ring, if -possible, but timely in any event.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And in the meanwhile it afforded him, whether from -jealousy or pure love of mischief, some wicked gratification -to nip and sting this already tormented lady in -sensitive places, and to do it all under an affectation of -the softest sympathy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet, while for his own purpose he hugged and fostered -the slander, whose growth and justification he most -desired, the slander itself, for some inexplicable reason, -did not grow, but even began to exhibit signs, for a time -almost imperceptible, of attenuating. Ludovico could -not acknowledge this fact to himself, or even consider it. -It is difficult, no doubt, while we are calculating our -probable gains, to admit the possibility of a blight in the -harvest of our hopes. A fervid prospect blinds us to the -road between; and this prince, for all his far-seeing, -because of it rather, may have been less open to immediate -impressions than some others about him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet to souls less acute, there </span><em class="italics">were</em><span> the signs: the first -little shadow of a smut on the ear—a hitch, just the -faintest, in the ecstatic programme of Nature. Was it -that Tassino, the mean worldling, was a true prophet of -his parts, and that the reaction from a starved continence -was already actually threatening? Whispers there -certainly were of a growing impatience of restrictions in the -castello; of schisms from the pure creed of its little -priest; of hankerings, even on the part of the highest, -after the old fleshpots. They rose, and died down, and -rose again. There was no melting a certain snow-child, -it was said, into anything but ice water. The Duchess, -who had somehow expected to gather flowers from frost, -went about white and smiling, and chafing her hands as -if they were numb. She had once stopped before a new -young courtier, who bore some resemblance to a past -favourite, and, while speaking to him kindly, had been -seen to flush as though her cheeks had caught the sudden -warmth of a distant fire. Madam Caterina, it was certain, -waxing bold in impishness, had commisserated her mother -on the bad cold she had caught. 'Madre mia,' she had -said, 'you have wandered too much in the chill woods, -and would be the better for a hot brick to your bed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For such tittle-tattle was this after season of the sowing -responsible, when, against all expectations, tares began -to appear amidst the crops. Messer Ludovico, for his -part, would recognise no sinister note in the laughter. -It was just the rocking and babbling of empty vessels. -Its justification in fact would not have suited his book at -all; and so he continued in confidence to plant his little -shafts in madam's raw places.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Monna Cat'rina, he had told her on the occasion of this -particular visit, had been very saucy to her mother the -evening before, advising her, this cold weather, to make -herself a coverlet of angel down. 'Whereat,' said he, -'Madam our Duchess slapped the chit's pink knuckles, -answering, "Shall I wish him, then, to die of cold for -me?" to which Catherine replied: "No; for to die of -love is not to die of cold"'; and the other had blushed -and laughed, and turned away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And it had been this sting, thrust into the place of a -long inflammation, which had finally goaded Beatrice into -writing and sending her letter.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>VENUS AND ADONIS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The days were beginning to darken early. It was the -season when exotic flowers of passion luxuriate under -glass, in that close coverture which is the very opposite -to the law's understanding of the term.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beatrice, like all tropical things, loved this time; -basked in the glow of tapers; hugged her own warm -sweetness in the confidence of a sanctuary for ever -besieged by, and for ever impervious to, the forces of -cold and gloom. To fancy herself the desired of night, -unattainable through all its storming, was a commanding -ecstasy. She liked to hear the hail on the roof, trampling -and threshing for an opening, and flinging away baffled. -The muffled slam of the thunder was her lullaby; while -the candles shivered in it, she closed her eyes and dreamed. -The thought of wrenched clouds, of crying human shapes, -of torn beasts and birds sobbing and circling without the -closed curtains of her shrine, served her imagination like -a hymn. She measured her content against the strength -of such hopeless appeals, like a very nun of incontinence, -shut from the rigour of the world within the scented -oratory of her own worship. She was Venus Anno -Domini, the Paphian goddess yet undethroned, and yet -justified of her influence over man and Nature.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'</span><em class="italics">About her carven palace walls a thousand blossoming lilies brake;</em></div> -<div class="line"><em class="italics">Within, a thousand years of love had wrought, for utter beauty's sake,</em></div> -<div class="line"><em class="italics">Triumphs of art for her blue eyes, and for her feet rich stainèd floors,</em></div> -<div class="line"><em class="italics">And ever in her ears sweet moan of music down dim corridors?</em></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Agapemone was her temple, and its inmost chamber -her shrine. Here, under stained glass windows, ran -a frieze in relievo of warm terra-cotta, thronged with -little goat-faced satyrs pursuing nymphs through groves -of pregnant vines. Here, supporting the frieze, were -pilasters of blood-red porphyry, which burst high up into -fronds of gold; while, screening the interspaces on the -walls, were panels of glowing tapestry relating the legend -of Adonis, from his first budding on the enchanted tree -to his final shrouding under the winter of love's grief. -Here, also, the faces of dead Capronas, past lords of this -House Beautiful, winked and gloated out of shadowy -corners, whenever a log, toppling over on the hearth, sent -up a shower of sparks. Prominent in one place was a -tall massive clock, copper and brass, a </span><em class="italics">chef-d'[oe]uvre</em><span> of -Dondi the horologist, which thudded the hours -melodiously, like a chime of distant bells, and made the -swooning senses in love with time. Couches there were -everywhere, soft and wooing to the soul of languor; thick -rugs and skins upon the marble floor; tables with clawed -legs, of chalcedony or jasper, on which were scattered in -lovely wantonness a hundred toys of Elysium. Lutes, -sweets, and goblets of rich repoussé; wine in green -flasks, and delicate long-stemmed glasses; an ivory and -silver crucifix, half-hidden under a pile of raisins; two -love-birds in a gilded cage, and a golden salver -containing an aspic of larks' tongues, tilted upon a volume of -some French Romaunt touching the knightly adventures -of Messer Roland a troubadour—these and their like, -varied or repeated, returned, in a thousandfold interest -of colour and sparkle, the soft investment of the -tapers—enough, but not too many—in their beauty. One velvet -cloth had been swept from its place, spilling upon a rug, -where it sprawled unregarded, its costly burden of a -begemmed chalice, a pair of perfumed gloves, and an -illuminated volume of sonnets in a jewelled cover, -dedicated to the goddess herself, and celebrating, in -letters of gold and silver on vellum, her incomparable -seductions. She had pulled them over, no doubt, when -she reached for the orange which now, untasted, filled -her hand, soft and covetous as a child's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The warmth and drowsy stillness of the room -penetrated her as she lay holding it. Gradually her lids -closed, her bare arm drooped from its sleeve, and the -orange rolled on the floor. Her thoughts and -expectations had been already busy for an hour with, 'Will he -come? Will he come? Will he come?' It had been -like counting sheep trotting through a hedge—one, two, -three, four—up to a hundred—and now her drugged -brain confused the tally, and she seemed to herself to -swerve all in a moment into a luminous mist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He entered like a pale scented flower into her dream—a -soft and shapely thing, melting into its ecstasy, fulfilling -its enchantment. She held him, and whispered to -him: 'The hour, sweet love! Is it mine at last?'—and, -so murmuring, stirred and opened her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was there, close by her, looking down upon her as -she lay. How pale was his face, and how wistful. His -walk through the icy dark had but just tinted it, as when -November flaws blow the snow from the rose's dead -cheek. He looked dispirited and tired. The childlike -pathos of his eyes moved her heart-strings no less than -did the red, combative swelling of his lips. She longed -to master him in order to be mastered. Her hedonism's -highest moral attainment was always in pleasing herself -by surrendering herself to the pleasure of another; and -how, knowing herself, could she doubt the irresistible -persuasiveness of her faith?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not speak for a little, the wine of slumber in -her brain emboldening her in the meanwhile to dare this -vision with her beauty, to seek her response in its eyes. -Her cheeks, her half-closed lids, were, like a baby's, -flushed with sleep. Suddenly she stirred, and, smiling -and murmuring, held out white arms to it:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The hour thou sang'st to me! Bernardo, hast thou -come to make that mine?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stood as if stricken—white, dumfoundered. She -stretched her shoulders a little, and, raising her hands, -put their rosy knuckles to her eyes; and so relaxed all, -and drooped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I was dreaming,' she murmured. 'I thought thou -camest to me and said: "Beatrice, I will forego that heaven -for thy sake. Give me the hour, to kiss and shame." She -stole a glance at him, and dropped her clasped -hands to her lap, and hung her head. 'And I answered,' -she whispered, '"Take it, and make one woman happy."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave a little cry. And then, suddenly, before he -could move or speak, she had sat up swiftly, and whipped -her arms about his neck, and pulled him to the couch -beside her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Listen,' she urged—'nay, thou shalt not go. I hold -thy weakness in a vice. Struggle, and I will tighten it. -Listen, child, while I tell thee a child's tale. It is about -a huntsman that followed a voice; and he pushed into a -thicket, and lo! enchantment seized him beyond. And -he whispered amazed, "What is this?" and the voice -answered, "Love—the end to all thy hunting." O! little -huntsman of Nature, be content. Thou hast traced the -voice of thy long longing to its home.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She repaid his struggles with kisses, his wild protests -with honeyed words. He set his pretty teeth at her, and -she pouted her mouth to them; he hurled insult at her -head, and she bore the sweet ache of it for the sake of -the lips that bruised. When he desisted, exhausted, she -would get in her soft pleas, rebuking him with a tearful -meekness:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, scourge me, set thy teeth in me, only hate me -not. Shalt find me but the tenderer, being whipped. -Talk on of Nature. Is it not natural to want to be loved; -and, for a woman, in a woman's way?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Forbear!—O, wicked! O, thou harlot!' he panted, -still fighting with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lie still! So a sick infant quarrels with its food,' -she answered. 'O love—dear love, will you not hear -reason?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Reason!' he stormed. 'O, thou siren! to beguile me -here on that lying pretext, and thus shame me for my -trust!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No lie,' she pleaded. 'Thou shalt have the ring -indeed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'At thy price? I will die first.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bernardo!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">Thou</em><span> to talk of natural love! False to it; false to -thy lord; false even to thy stained bed! Unhand me! -Why, I loathe thee.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not yet.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her eyes were hot waters, all misted over with passion. -'Thou canst not indeed, so pitiful to the worst. I cry -to thee in my need. I knew thee first. Bernardo! will -you forsake your friend?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Friend!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay. Only tell me what you would do with the ring?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What but return it to her that trusted me with it,'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And for what reward?—Nay, strive not.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My conscience's peace—just that. Unclasp thy hands.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'See there! Her gratitude would kill it in thee for -ever. As would be hers to thee, so be thine to me. Art -thou for a fall? Fall soft, then, on my love. She will -not let thee down so kindly, who hath a lord and duchy -to consider.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He made a supreme effort—her robe tore in his hand—and, -breaking from her, stood panting and disordered. -She made no effort to recapture him, but, flinging herself -to abandonment, sobbed and sighed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O, I am undone! Wilt thou forsake me? Kill me -first! Nay, I will not let thee go!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sprang to her feet. He leapt away from her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Beast!' he cried, 'that foulest our garden! I will -have thee whipped out of Milan with a bow-string.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Scorn and hatred flashed into her face. She was no -longer Venus, but Ashtoreth, the goddess of unclean -frenzy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou wilt?' she hissed. 'I thank thee for that -warning. Go, sir, and claim thy doxy to thy vengeance. -She will leap, I promise thee, to that chance. Only, -wouldst thou view the sport'—she struck her naked -bosom relentlessly—'by this I advise thee—O, I advise -thee like a lover!—hide well in her skirts—hide well. -They will need to be thick and close to screen thee from -a woman scorned. Wilt thou not go? I have the ring, -I tell thee—</span><em class="italics">I</em><span>, myself, no other. Let her know. She'll -bid thee pay the price perchance—too late. A fatal ring -to thee. Why art thou lingering? I would not spare -thee now, though thou knelt'st and prayed to me with -tears of blood.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stood up rigid, her hands clenched, as, without -another word, Bernardo turned, and, stalking with high -head and glittering eyes, passed out of the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, the moment the door had closed upon him, she -flung herself face downwards on the couch, writhing and -choking and clutching at her throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I must kill him,' she moaned; 'I must kill my love!'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xix"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The hitch in the progress of the harvest came ever -a little and a little more into evidence: the smut -darkened on the ear; the whisper of a threatened blight -grew from vague to articulate—grew clearer, grew -bolder—until, lo!—all in a moment it was a definite voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This happened on the morning succeeding Bernardo's -visit to the Casa Caprona—a visit of which, it would -appear, the Duchess of Milan had been made somehow -cognisant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bona, on this morning, came into the hall of council, -her white hand laid, as she walked, upon the shoulder of -Messer Cecco Simonetta, the State Secretary. That -light, caressing touch was an arresting one to some eyes -observing it—Ludovico's among the number. Its like, in -that particular context of confidence and affection, had -not been seen for many weeks—never, indeed, since the -secretary had taken it upon himself to caution his mistress -on the subject of a perilous fancy. He would have had -no wish to balk any whim of hers that turned on -self-indulgence. It was this whim of self-renunciation which -had alarmed him. There was a mood which might conceivably -vindicate itself in the sacrifice of a kingdom to a -sentiment. Such things had happened; and saints were -men. He would put it to her with all humility.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she had listened and answered icily: 'I thank -thee, Messer Secretary. But our faith is commensurate -with our purpose, which is to sweep out our house, not -pull it down. What then? Dread'st thou to be included -in the scourings? Fear not. It is no part of our faith to -forget our obligations.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Which was a cruel response; but its hauteur silenced -Mr. Secretary. And thenceforth he served in silence, -watching, anxiously enough, the progress of his lady's -infatuation, and feeling at last immensely relieved when -on this day, her warm palm settled on his shoulder, -melting the long frost between them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked rather wistfully into his worn eyes, and -smiled a little tale without words of confidence restored. -And he, for his part, spoke of no matters less commonplace -than the State's welfare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The Duke will make Christmas with us, Madonna,' he -said; 'I have advices from him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He will be most welcome,' she answered, and her face -coloured with real pleasure. But the next moment it was -like snow, and its vision hard crystals of frost. She had -seen the Saint Magistrate advancing to accost her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a strange look in the boy's eyes as they -gazed, unflinchingly nevertheless, into hers—a look -mingled of pain and doubt and fortitude. She had said -no unkind word to him; yet a frost can nip without -wind; and surely here was a plant very sensitive to the -human atmosphere. He questioned her face a little; -then spoke out bold, though low—while Messer -Ludovico, turning papers at the table, was very -busy—watching.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Madonna, wilt thou walk apart? I am fain to crave -thy private ear a moment.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stood like ice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Touching whose shortcomings now?' she asked aloud, -and with a little cold laugh which disdained that implied -confidence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gazed at her steadily, though in trouble.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, I spoke of none. It is of moment. Madonna, -I entreat thee.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For an instant the milk of her sweetened to him. He -was such a baby after all. And then she remembered -whence he had lately come, and gall flooded her veins—gall -not so much of jealousy, perhaps, as of contempt. -Doubtless, she thought, he could have ventured himself -into that hothouse in the Via Sforza with impunity, since, -though spirit he might be, he was of that uninflammability -that his virtue amounted to little better than the virtue of -sexlessness. She felt almost glad, at last, to have this -excuse for dissociating herself from a cause which had -always chilled, and had ceased now for some time even -to amuse her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Feel no surprise over the seeming suddenness of her -revolt. Apart from her position, this Duchess of Milan -was never anything but a typical woman, common-souled, -lacking spiritual sensitiveness, leaning to her masculine -peers. Breeding was her business, and motherhood her -passion. She took no more jar of offence from the -intimate custody of babies, than does a cat in licking -open the eyes of its seven-days born. Her refinements -were adventitious, an accident of her condition. She had -felt it no outrage to her stately loveliness to yield it to -Tassino's usings. She had that Madonna-like serenity of -face which is the expression of an inviolable mindlessness; -and no impressions other than physical could long pervade -her. Stupidity is the rarest beauty-preserver; and it is -to be feared that Bona was stupid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, it is to be remembered that Bernardo had not -mentioned shortcomings at all; but her object being to -snub rather than answer him, she chose to take refuge in -her sex's prerogative of intuition. Dwelling a moment -in a rising temper, she suddenly flounced on him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If you will seek doubtful company, Messer, you must -not cry out to have your fervour misread by it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was about to answer; but she stopped him peremptorily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Women will be women, good or bad. We cannot -promote a civil war in Milan to avenge some pin-prick to -thy conscience. Indeed, sir, we weary a little of this -precisianism. Is it come to be a sin to laugh, to warm -our hands at a fire, to prefer a fried collop to a wafer? -You must forgive us, like the angel that you are. We -are human, after all, and pledged to human policies. -Our State's before the magistracy. There are things -weightier to discuss than a mischief's naughty word. We -cannot hear you now.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned away, relenting but a little, though flushed -and trembling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Come, brother,' she said. 'Shall we not pass to the -order of the day?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ludovico responded with smooth and smiling alacrity. -One could never have guessed by his face the consternation -which had seized his soul. Yet, so cleverly had he -hoodwinked himself, this sudden leap of light was near -staggering him. Merriment and warmth and fried collops? -The charge in its utter, its laughable irrelevancy, was, he -thought, a little hard on the saint, seeing how the gist of -the new creed lay all in a natural enjoyment of life's -bounties. What powder had winged such a startling -shot?—weariness?—disenchantment?—remorseful -hankerings, perhaps, after a discarded suet pudding, which, -after all, had been infinitely more native to this woman's -taste than the ethereal soufflé, whose frothy prettiness -had for the moment appealed to her meat-fed satiety?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The last, most probably. And, in that case——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His brain, through all the mazes of council, went -tracing out a busy thread of self-policy. If this were -really the end, he must hurry to foreclose on it ere the -split widened into a gulf—before ever the first whisper -of its opening reached Tassino's ears. The time for -temporising was closed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It touches, your Grace,' he purred, 'upon the reception -to be accorded the envoys of Ferrara and Mantua.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The wind of a fall, like the wind of an avalanche, runs -before the body of it. Messer Bembo, passing out, -amazed, from his rebuff, found in himself an illustration -of this inevitable human truism. All the envies, spites, -and jealousies which his sweetness, under favour, had -kept at bay, seemed now gathered in his path to hustle -and insult him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good Master Nature,' mocked one, 'hast ever a collop -in thy pocket for a starved woodman?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'See how he stumbles, missing his leading-strings!' -cackled another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A third knocked off his bonnet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Prophesy, who is he that smote thee!' he cried, and -ducking, came up elsewhere.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, prophesy!' thundered a fourth voice; and a fist -like a rammer crashed upon the assailant's face, -spread-eagling it. The man went down in a welter. Bembo -fled to Lanti's arms, feebly imprisoning them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou thing of bloody passions!' he shrieked. -'Wouldst thou so vindicate me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo roared over his shoulder:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Help his prophecy, ye vermin, when he's ears to -hear; and tell him I wait to carve them from his head.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bore Bembo with him from the hall, as he might -carry a moth fluttering on his sleeve. Murmurs rose in -his wake, seething and furious; but he heeded them not. -In a deserted court beyond, he shook the pretty spoil -from his arm, not roughly but with an air of madness, and -stood breathing like a driven ox.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What now?' he groaned at last—'what now?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then all in a moment the boy was sobbing before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O Carlo! dear Carlo! I would the Duke were -returned!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His grief and helplessness moved the other to a frenzy. -His chest heaved, he caught at his throat, struggling -vainly for utterance of the fears which had of late been -tormenting him without definite reason. Seeing his -state, Bernardo sought to propitiate it with a smile that -trembled out of tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, mind me not—a child to cry at a shadow.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lanti choked, and found voice at length.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The Duke? Monstrous! Call'st thou for him? -Forget'st Capello? Art changed indeed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas!' cried the boy, 'no change in me. I think only -of a more ruling tyranny than mine. Pitiless himself, -he made pity sweet in others. I've converted 'em from -deeds to words, that's all.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The Duke!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I begin to see. Thou warned'st me, I remember. -The fashion of me passes, like thy shoe's long beaks. -Yesterday they were a span; to-day they're shrunk by -half; to-morrow, mayhap, ye'll trim them from your -feet and run on goat's hooves.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou ravest. 'Tis for thee, being Duke-deputy, to -trim </span><em class="italics">us</em><span>.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Into what? Cherubs or satyrs? Be quick, lest the -fashion change while you talk.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go to! Thou art the Duke, I say.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, a fine puppet, and great at righting wrongs. -There's Lucia to witness.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She's provided for.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'With bread. O, I am a very Mahomet. If I but nod -my head, the city shall crack and crumble to it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'God! What ails thee, boy?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Something mortal, I think. A breath withered me -just now!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A breath? Whose breath?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Whose? O Carlo, forgive me! What have I said or -done? Look, I'm myself again. It just fell like a frost -in June, killing my young olives. I had so hung upon it, -too—its help and promise. The harvest seemed so -certain.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah! She's thrown you over?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dreams, dreams!' sighed poor little Nathan; 'to live -on dreams—a deaf man's voices, a blind man's vision. -I have seen such things, built such kingdoms out of -dreams. Carlo! what have I done?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lanti ground his teeth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Done? Proved woman's constancy a dream—that's all.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He clapped his chest, and looked earnestly at Bembo, -and cried in a broken voice:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Boy—before God—tell me—thou hast not learned to -desire her?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The child looked up at him, with a pitiful mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah! I know not what you mean; unless it be that -pain with which I see her melt from out my dream when -most possessing it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Most? She? She to possess thy dream, thy purpose?' -cried Lanti, and drew back in great emotion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> my purpose,' said the boy—'or </span><em class="italics">was</em><span>, alack!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is and was,' growled the other. 'Well, 'tis true that -for the purpose of thy purpose </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> remain; but then I -don't count. What am </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> to thee?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My love, beyond all women.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am? That's much. Now will we do without the -Duchess.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Shall we not?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She hath so nursed my flock to pasture—the kind -ewe-mother. The bell was about her neck. Now, it -seems, she will have neither bell nor shepherd, and the -flock must stray.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hath she in truth cast thee? On what pretext?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, I know not. It seemed the twin-brother of him -that once she used for loving me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, it is their way. But scorn, for your part, to show -caloric as she cools.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Trust me there. What had you said to chill her?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nothing that I know, but to crave her ear a moment.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is the sink of slander in a woman—a pink shell -with a dead fish inside. Yet thy whisper might have -sweetened it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Stung it rather. Carlo, I know not what to do.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tell me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Shall I, indeed? I fear thee. Wilt thou be gentle?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'As a lamb.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, then, I'll tell thee—I am so lost. Carlo, dear, -I know where the ring is.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You do? Do you see how calm I am? Where is it?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Beatrice hath it—thy Beatrice.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You know that?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She sent to tell me—last night. God help me, Carlo, -for a credulous fool!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You went to her? Well?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She would give it me, Carlo—O Carlo! on such a -condition!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Which if you refused——?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It shall be a fatal ring to me, she ended.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Shall it?—or to her? Well, that's said. And now, -wilt thou go rest a little, sweetheart, while I think? I -cannot think in company.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will go, but not to rest.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Pooh! thy Fool shall drug thy folly with his greater.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas! he's gone.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Gone?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He too. Nay, blaspheme not. He had his reasons.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'For what?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'For leaving me awhile. "My folly starves on thine -ambrosia," he said. "I would fain feed it a little on -human flesh."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How long's he gone?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Some days.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let him keep out of my way when he returns.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'll not love you if you hurt him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then I'll not hurt him. Thy love is mine, and thy -confidence, look you. This ring—speak not a word on -it, to Bona or another, till I bid you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then I will not.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That's good. God rest you, sweetling.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He watched him go, with frowning eyes; then, no -message coming to him from the hall, strode off to his -own quarters in the palace, and bided there all day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'These women,' was the burden of his fury—'these -women—soulless beasts! To aim at winning heaven -by debauching its angel!—there's their morality in a -nutshell! But I'll send him back there first. So -Beatrice hath the ring! What will she do with it? -What shall I with the knowledge? God! if my wits -could run with my rage! To forestall her, else——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His fingers worked, as he tramped, on the jewelled -hilt of his poniard.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was Messer Lanti's misfortune that, in knocking -down Bernardo's assailant, he had defaced, literally as -well as symbolically, the escutcheon of a powerful -family. The fact was brought to the Duchess's notice -when, shortly after the event, she passed through the -hall in company with her brother-in-law. Hoarse -clamour of kinsmen and partisans greeted her, backed, -by way of red evidence, by the condition of the victim -himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her wrath and emotion knew no bounds. She flushed, -and stamped, and wept, and in the midst collapsed. It -was outrageous that her authority should be so defied -(though, indeed, it had not been) by the brute creature -of a creature of her lord's. The Duke had never -foreseen or intended such an arrogation of his prerogatives -by his deputy. She would teach this swashbuckler a -lesson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she broke down and turned, tearful, almost -wringing her hands, to her brother-in-law. Sure never -woman was cursed in such a false position—impotent -and responsible in one. What should she do?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took her aside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'These two,' he said, 'are as yet </span><em class="italics">persona gratæ</em><span> with -Galeazzo. At the same time thou canst not with decency -or safety ignore the outrage. Seize and confine Messer -Lanti out of harm's way until the Duke's return—just -a formal and considerate detention, pending his decision. -There's thy wise compromise, sister.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so indeed it seemed. But undoubtedly the -best wisdom lay in his own adroit seizure of a fortuitous -situation. He had wanted this Lanti out of the way; -had foreseen him, as it were, lurking in the thickets far -ahead through which his policy sought a road. Here -was the fine opportunity, and without risk to himself, to -ambush the ambuscado, and have it laid by the heels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bona sobbed and fretted, nursing her grievance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why did this angel come to vex us with his heaven? -The world, I think, would be very well but for its -schooling by saints and prophets. Children grow naughty -under inquisition. There, have it as you will, brother; -use or abuse me—it is all one. It is my fate to be -persecuted through my best intentions.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ludovico put force on himself to linger a little and -soothe her. His soul leapt with anxiety to be gone. -To instruct Jacopo; to commission Tassino—to loose -his long-straining bolt in fact—here was the moment -sprung inevitable upon him. He had no choice but to -seize it; and then—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Your Grace must excuse me,' he said at length, -smiling. 'I have to go prepare against a journey.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A journey!' she exclaimed, aghast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Surely,' he answered mildly. 'The matter is -insignificant enough to have escaped your burdened -memory; but smaller souls must hold to their engagements. -My brother Bari and I are to Christmas with -the King of France in Tours. We sail from Genoa, -whither, in a day or two, I must ride to join him. It is -unfortunate, at this pass; but——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go, sir,' she broke in—'go. I see I am to be the -scapegoat of all your policies,' and she hurried from -him, weeping.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xx"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>More and more drearily the burden of his long -days pressed upon Tassino. He was not built -for heroic endurance; and to have to suffer Damocles' fate -without the feast was a very death-in-life to him. Here, -in this dingy cabin, was no solace of wine to string his -nerves; no charm of lights to scare away bogies; no -outlook but upon beastliness and squalor. He seemed -stranded on a mud-bank amidst the ebbing life of the -city, and he despaired that the tide would ever turn and -release him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Listening at his grille, he would often curse to hear -the name of his hated rival—'Bembo! Bembe, -Bambino!' sing out upon the swarming air. It was the -rallying-cry of the new socialism, the popular catchword -of the moment; and he hugged himself in the thought of -what it would spell to Galeazzo on his return, and by -what racking and rending and stretching of necks he -would mark his appreciation of its utterers' enthusiasm. -If the Duke would only come back! Here was the last -of three who desired, it appeared, each for a very different -reason, the re-installation of an ogre in his kingdom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, in the meanwhile, he cowered in an endless -apprehension as to his own safety, which Ludovico's last -visit had certainly done nothing to reassure. On the -contrary, it had but served to intensify the gloom of -mystery in which he dwelt. He had since made sundry -feeble-artful attempts to discover from Narcisso what -secret attached to the ring, which, it appeared, that -amiable peculator was accused of having filched, and -why Messer Ludovico was so set on possessing it. -Needless to say, his efforts met with no success -whatever; and the corrosion of a new suspicion was all that -they added to his already palsied nerves. The sick -flabbiness and demoralisation of him grew positively -pitiful, as he stood day after day at his grille, watching -and moping and snivelling, and sometimes wishing he -were dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, the thicker the mud, the more productive the -tide when it comes; but he was fairly sunk to his neck -before it floated him out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One day, gazing down, his attention was attracted to -a figure which had halted near below his coign of espial. -As things went, there was nothing so remarkable in this -figure, in its alien speech or apparel, as to make it arresting -otherwise than by reason of its contiguity to himself. -It was simply that of a crinkled hag, swart, snake-locked, -cowled, her dress jingling with sequins, her right hand -clawed upon a crutch. She appeared, in fact, just an old -Levantine hoodie-crow, of the breed which was familiar -enough to Milan in these cataclysmic days, when all -sorts of queer, tragic fowl were being driven northwards -from overseas before a tidal wave of Islamism. For half -Christendom was writhing at this time under the -embroidered slipper of the Turk, while other half was -fighting and scratching and backing within its own ranks, in -a </span><em class="italics">sauve qui peut</em><span> from Sultan Mahomet's ever -nearer-resounding tread.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From Bosnia and Servia and Hungary; from Negropont -and the islands of the Greek Archipelago; from -new Rome itself, whose desolated houses and markets -weeping Amastris had been emptied to repeople; from -Trebizond and the Crimea, it came endlessly floating, -this waste drift of palaces and temples and antique -civilisations, which had been wrecked and scattered by that -ruthless hate. Ruined merchants and traders; unfrocked -satraps; priests of outlandish garb; girl derelicts blooded -and defiled by janissaries; childless mothers and -motherless children—scared immigrants all, they wailed and -wandered in the towns, denouncing in their despair the -creed whose jealousies and corruptions had delivered -them to this pass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the first of their coming, a certain indignant -sympathy had helped to the practical amelioration of their -bitter lot. Men scowled and muttered over the histories -of their wrongs; took warning for a possible overthrow -of the entire Christian Church; talked big of sinking all -differences in a kingdom-wide crusade; and, finally, fell -to fisticuffs upon the question of a common commander -for this problematic host. After which the immigrants, -always flocking in thicker, and making civil difficulties, -fell gradually subject to an indifference, not to say -intolerance, which was at least half as great as that from -which they had fled. Fashion, moreover, began to find -in the Ser Mahomet a figure more and more attractive, -in proportion as he approached it, issuing from the mists -of the Orient. It was ravished with, if it did not want to -be ravished by, those adorable Spahis, with their tinkling -jackets and sashes and melancholy, wicked faces. It -adapted prettily to itself the caftan, and the curdee, and -the turban; re-read Messer Boccaccio's most Eastern -fables; acted them, too, in drawers of rose-coloured -damask, and little talpoes, which were tiny jewelled caps -of velvet, cocked, and falling over one ear in a tassel. -But by that time the cult of immigrancy was discredited -</span><em class="italics">du haut en das</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Many of the unhappy wretches were drawn by natural -process into such sinks as 'The Vineyard.' The poor are -good to the poor, and pitiful—which is strange—towards -any fall from prosperity. In the instance of this old -woman, it was notable how she was humoured of the -drifting populace. The very ladroni, who, outside their -own rookery, might have tormented and soused her in -the kennel, were content here to rally and banter her a -little, showing their white teeth to one another in jokes -whose bent she was none the worse for misapprehending. -For she had not much Italian, it appeared; though what -was hers she was turning to the best possible advantage -in the matter of fortune-telling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tassino saw many brawny palms thrust out for her -shrewd conning; echoed from his eyrie many of the -</span><em class="italics">Eccomi perdútos</em><span> and </span><em class="italics">O mè beátos</em><span> which greeted her broken -sallies. She got a mite here and there, and buzzed and -mumbled over it, clutching it to her lean bosom. -Presently some distraction, of rape or murder, carried her -audience elsewhere, and she was left temporarily alone. -Then Tassino, moved by a sudden impulse, reached -down his arm through the grate and tapped her reverend -crown. She started, and ducked, and peered up. He -whispered out to her:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Zitto, old mother! Come up here, and tell me my -fortune for money.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She seemed to hesitate; he signified the way; and -lo! on a thought she came. He met her at the door, and -dragged her in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tell me my fortune,' he said, and thrust out a dirty -palm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She pored over it, chuckling and pattering her little -incomprehensible shibboleth. Presently she seemed to -pounce triumphantly on a knot. She leered up, her -hand still clutching his, her hair falling over her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah-yah!' she muttered. 'Ringa, ringa!' and shook -her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shrugged peevishly:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What do you mean, old hag?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ringa!' she repeated: 'no ringa, no fortuna.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He snatched his hand away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What ring, thou cursed harridan?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No know. Ringa—I see it—green cat-stone—hold -off Fortuna. Get, and she change.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gnawed his lip, frowning and wondering. There -was a ring in question, certainly. Could it be possible its -possession was connected somehow with his personal -fortunes? If that were so, here was a veritable Pythoness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her eyes stared dæmonic: she thrust out a finger, -pointing:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I see, there: green cat-stone: get, and Fortuna change.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Superstition mastered him. He trembled before her, -quavering:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How can I? O mother! how can I?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A voice in the street startled him. He leapt to the -window and back again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Narcisso!' he gasped, and ran to bundle out his visitor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'To-morrow—come again to-morrow—after dark,' he -whispered hurriedly. 'I shall be alone—I will pay -you—' and he drove her forth. Narcisso met her, -issuing from the court below. He growled out a -malediction, and came growling into the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You keep nice company, Messer.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That is not my fault, beast,' answered Tassino pertly. -'When I choose my own, it is to amuse myself.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, I hope she amused you?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not so much as I expected. I saw her telling -fortunes down below, and called her up to read me mine. -Acquaint me of the mystery of a certain ring I asked -her; but, </span><em class="italics">oimè</em><span>! she could enlighten me nothing.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Narcisso leered at him cunningly, and spat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It was as well, perhaps. I see th' art set upon that -impertinence; and I'll only say again, "beware!"'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You may say what you like, old yard-dog,' answered -the youth. 'It's your business, chained up here, to snarl.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But his fat brain was busy all night with the weird -Hecate and her necromancy. What did this same ring -portend to him, and how was his fate involved in its -possession? There </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> a ring in question, doubtless; but -whose? Then, all in an amazed moment inspiration -flashed upon him. A green cat-stone! Had he not -often seen such a ring on Bona's finger? It might -indeed be the Duchess's own troth-ring!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shrunk and cowered at first in the thought of the -issues involved in such a possibility. Was it credible -that it had been stolen from her? How could he tell, -who had been imprisoned here so long? Only, if it were -true that it had been, and he, Tassino, could secure it -from whatever ravisher, what a weapon indeed it might -be made to prove in his hand!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He exulted in that dream of retribution; had almost -convinced himself by morning that its realisation lay -within his near grasp. She, that old soothsayer, could -surely show him the way to possess himself of what her -art had so easily revealed to him for his fortune's -talisman. This Eastern magic was a strange and terrible -thing. He would pay her all he had for the secret!—make -crawling love to her, if necessary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All day he was in a simmer of agitated expectancy; -and when dusk at last gathered and swelled he welcomed -it as he had never done before. Fortunately Narcisso -went out early, and need not be expected back betimes. -He was engaged, the morrow being the feast of the -Conception, to confess and prepare to communicate himself -fasting from midnight; and it was a matter of religion -with him on such occasions to take in an especial cargo -against the ordeal. Before the streets were dark, Tassino -was sitting alone; and so he sat, shuddering and listening, -for another hour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A step at last on the shallow stair! He held his -breath. No, he was deceived. Sweating, on tiptoe, he -stole to the door and peered out. All was silent, and -dark as pitch. Then suddenly, while he looked, there -came a muffled tramp and shuffle in the street, and on -the instant a figure rose from the well of blackness below, -mounting swiftly towards his door. He had barely time -to retreat into the unlighted room before he felt his -visitor upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My God!' he quavered; 'who is it? Keep away!' -and he backed in ghastly fear to the wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hush!' (Ludovico's voice.) 'Are you alone?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The frightened wretch stole forward a step.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Messer! I thought you——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Never mind,' interrupted the other impatiently. -'Answer me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Quite alone.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Humph! I thought you loved the dark less.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I—I was about to light the tapers; I swear I was. -Wait only one moment, Messer.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Stop. No need. The night's the better confidant. -Come here.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Trembling all through, Tassino obeyed. A smooth -hand groped, and fastening on his wrist, pressed a hard, -round object into his palm. He had much ado not to -shriek out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What's this?' he gasped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Be silent. Have you got it? Put it where it's secure. -Well?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>''Tis in the scabbard of my knife, Messer—' (the blade -clicked home).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A good place; keep it there. Now, listen. There's -no other here?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'On my oath, no.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nor on the stair?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How can there be between us and Messer's gentlemen?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hark well, then. Thy life depends on it. They 've -wind of thee, Tassino.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O, O! God pity me!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He helps those—you know the saw. 'Tis touch and -go—come to this at last; either they destroy you, or -you—them.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How? O, I shall die!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wilt thou, then? Well, then, if thou wilt. Yet not -so much as thy ear-lobe's spark of nerve were needed to -forestall and turn the tables on them. They are very -fond together, Tassino.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Curse them! If I could stab him in the back!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, why not? Thy scabbard holds the means.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My dagger?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Better.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The Duchess's troth-ring.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Messer! My God!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He leapt as if a trigger had clicked at him. Here -was to have the gipsy's prophecy, his own fulsome hope, -realised at a flash; but with what fearful significances for -himself. So this had actually been the ring of contention, -and secured at last—he might have known it would -be—by Ludovico.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave an absurd little shaky laugh, desperately -playful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How am I to stab with a ring, Messer?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Fool! answer for thyself.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was crushed immediately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'By carrying it to the Duke?' he whispered fearfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is thy suggestion,' said Ludovico—'not for me to -traverse. Well?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah! help me, Messer, for the Lord's sake. I turn in -a maze.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Prince's thin mouth creased in the dark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, 'tis no affair of mine,' he said. 'I am but -friendship's deputy.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tassino almost whimpered, writhing about in helpless -protest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He will thunder at me, "Whence reaches me this?"'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Likely.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What shall I reply then?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Do you put the case hypothetically? I should answer -broadly, on its merits, somehow as follows: "By the -right round of intrigue, O Duke, completing love's cycle."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O Messer! How am I to understand you?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, easily—(I speak as one disinterested). Call it -the cycle of the ring, and thus it runs: </span><em class="italics">From the husband -to the wife; from the wife to her paramour; from the -paramour to his doxy; from the doxy back to the husband</em><span>.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'His doxy? O beast! Hath he a second?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Or had. I go by report, which says—but then I 'm -no scandalmonger—that a certain lady, Caprona's widow, -finds herself scorned of late.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And it comes from her—to me? For what? To -destroy them both?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A shrewd suggestion. In that case your moods run -together.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Monna Beatrice! She sends it?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Does she? Quote me not for it. It were ill so to -requite my over-fond friendship. Thou hast the ring. -I wish thee well with it. Dost mark?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I mark, Messer.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, so. Thou shouldst suffer after-remorse, having -dragged in my name; and there is hellbane, so they tell -me, in remorse.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will die before I mention thee in it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, I can trust the grave. That's to know a friend. -So might I add something to thy credentials.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If it please you, Messer.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, look you, child, love may very well have its -procurer—say a State Secretary, where love is of high -standing. And thence may follow the subversion of a -State. There's a pretender in Milan, they tell me, -something an idol of the people—I know not. Only this I -ponder: What if there be, and he that same idol which -the Duchess is reported to have raised? Would -Simonetta, in such case, join in the hymn of praise? One -might foresee, if he did, a trinity very strong in the -public worship. His Grace, I can't help thinking, would -find himself </span><em class="italics">de trop</em><span> here at present. You might put it -to him—your own way. When will you set out?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'When?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This moment, I 'd advise. To-morrow might mean -never. The Duke's at Vigevano—less than six leagues -away. A good horse might carry thee there by morning. -I've such a one in my stables. He'll honour thee for -this service, trust me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tassino's little soul spirted into flame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">Viva il duca!</em><span>' he piped, and ran to the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He drove it before him—it opened outwards—and, -descending the dark stairs with his patron, passed into -the night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An hour later he was spurring for Vigevano, while the -Prince was engaged in preparing against his own journey -to Genoa on the morrow.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxi"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Carlo kept his room all day, gnawing and tramping -out his problem, and extracting nothing from it. -Not till it was deep dark did he call for lights, and then -he cursed his page, Ercole, who brought them, because -they dazzled his brain from thinking. Swerving on his -heel, he was in the act of bidding the boy let no one -enter, unless it might be Messer Bembo, when, the door -being ajar, there hurried into the chamber the figure of a -fantastic hag, who, upon noting his company, stopped -suddenly, and stood mumbling and sawing the air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Begone!' he roared, astounded, and took a furious -step towards her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed harshly. His clenched fists dropped to -his sides. There was no mistaking that bitter cackle. -He flung his arm to the page, dismissing him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The moment the door was shut upon them, off went the -cloak and sequins, off went the hood and snaky locks, -and the Fool Cicada, clean and lithe in a tight suit of -jarnsey, stood revealed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo leapt upon him, mouthing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What mummery, beast, and at such a time? Wait -while I choke thee.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the tumult of his fury he remembered his promise -to Bernardo, and fell back, breathing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hast finished?' said Cicada, acrid and unmoved. 'I -could retort upon a fool but for lacking time. Where's -the boy?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Renegade! What concerns it thee to know?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I say, where's the boy?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If I might trounce thee! Safe, at present, no thanks -to thee.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Have I asked any? You must take horse and ride -after the ring.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The ring!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I warn thee, lose not a moment. It may be even now -upon the road.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The road!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That echo's a scrivener. Say after me thus, word for -word, so thy skull shall keep the record: </span><em class="italics">The ring goes -this moment to the Duke at Vigevano, in false witness -against our Saint. Narcisso gave it to Beatrice, Beatrice -to Ludovic, Ludovic to Tassino—and Tassino carries it, -wrapped round with fifty damning lies</em><span>. Can you fill in -the rest?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My God! How know you this?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I know. Why have I been mumming else?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O, thou good Fool!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So beatified in a moment? But stay not. To horse, -and after, or by luck in front of, this ill-omened -popinjay. He must be anticipated, overreached, despoiled, -poniarded—anything. I've had my ear to his door—it -smarts yet—Ludovic was with him. I was before the -Prince and heard him coming—"trapped!" I thought. -But the fool looked out—door opens to the stairs—and -shut me into its angle against the wall. So again when -they left together, and I slipped away behind their -worships, and presently ran before. There you've the -tale. And so, a' God's name mount and spur, for a -minute's delay may kill all. But sith even now it be too -late, why, run after to traverse that foul evidence, and -the Lord speed thee. Remember—Tassino and the -Vigevano road.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stunning, bewildering as was the nature of this blast, -it served to clear Carlo's brain as a southerly wind clears -stagnant water. It meant action, and in action lay his -</span><em class="italics">métier</em><span>. Prompt and comprehensive instantly, now that -the sum of things had been worked out for him, he dwelt -but on the utterance of a single curse—so black and -monstrous that the candle-flames seemed to duck to -it—before he turned and strode heavily from the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mercy!' muttered Cicada, tingling where he stood; -'if Monna Beatrice isn't blinking smut out of her eyes -at this very moment, there's no virtue in Hell.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ten minutes later, Carlo, booted, spurred, and cloaked, -issued hurriedly from his quarters, and made for a -postern in the north wall, on t' other side of which -Ercole, so he had sped his errand well, should be already -in waiting with the cavalier's horse, 'l'Inferno,' saddled -and bridled for the hunt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A thin muffle of snow lay on the pavements, choking -echo; a thin, still fog, wreathing upwards from it, made -everything loom fantastic—curtains, towers, the high -battlemented spectres of the sentries.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He clapped his hand to his hip, in assurance of the -firm hilt there, and was clearing his throat to answer the -guard's challenge, when, on the moment, a whisk of -sudden light seemed to overtake and pass him, and he -whipped about, with a catch in his breath, to face an -expected onset.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nothing was there. Only the ghosts of mist and snow -peopled the ward he had traversed; but, across it, licking -and leaping from a high window in the Armourer's -Tower, spat a tongue of flame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He dwelt a moment, fascinated. Faint cries and -hurried warnings reached him. The flame shrunk, broke -from its curb, and writhed out again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Galeazzo's room!' he muttered; 'a red portent to -greet him!' and, turning to pursue his way—ran into a -vice of arms and was in a moment a prisoner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The shock was so stunning, that he found himself -bound and helpless before he could realise its import. -And then he roared out like a lassoed bull:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dogs! What's this?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Provost Marshal answered him, waving aside his -capturing sbirri.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Her Grace's warrant, Messer.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lanterns seemed to have sprung like funguses from -the ground, grossly multiplying the strong company -which surrounded him. He stared about him bewildered; -then, all in an instant, drove forward like a battering-ram. -There was a clash of pikes and mail; an arquebus -exploded, luckily without disaster; and Carlo was down -in a writhe of men, pounding with his heels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It brought him nothing but a full interest of bruises. -Shortly he was on his feet again, torn and dishevelled; -but this time with a thong about his ankles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He found wisdom of his helplessness to temporise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Save thee, Provost Marshal, I have an important -errand toward. Spare me to it, and I'll give my parole -to deliver up my person to thee on my return.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dummy wagged aside the appeal, woodenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I've my orders.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo lost his brief command of temper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Swine! To truss me like a thief?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'To hold thy person secure, Messer.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'With ropes, dog?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'll unbind them, on that same parole.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For all answer, Carlo dropped and rolled on the -ground, bellowing curses and defiance. It was childish; -but then, what was the great creature but a child? -Despair divorced from reason finds its last resource in -kicking; and strength of body was always this poor -fellow's convincing argument. The presumption that, -by his own impulsive retort on Bernardo's assailant, he -had brought this cowardly retaliation on himself, made -not the least of his anguish. Why could his thick head -never learn the craftier ways of diplomacy? And here, -in consequence, was he himself scotched, when most -required for killing! He bounded like a madman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It took a dozen of them, hauling and swaying and -tottering, to convey him up, and into, and so down again -within, the tower of the dungeons. Jacopo had no -orders other than for his safe durance and considerate -keep; but no doubt that 'swine' weighed a little on -the human balance side of the incorruptible blockhead's -decision. There was a cell—one adjoining the 'Hermit's'—very -profound and safe indeed, though far less deadly -in its appointments (so to speak, for the other had none) -than its neighbour. And into this cell, by the Provost -Marshal's directions, they carried Master Carlo, still -struggling and roaring; and, having despoiled him of -his weapons, and—with some apprehension—uncorded -him, there locked him in incontinent to the enjoyment -of his own clamour, which, it may be said, he made the -most of up to midnight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then, quite suddenly, he broke into tears—a thing -horrible in such a man; and casting himself down by the -wall, let the flood of despair pass over his head—literally, -it almost seemed, in the near cluck and rustle of waters -moving in the moat outside.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In the fortress of Vigevano the Duke of Milan sat at -wine with his gentlemen, his dark face a core of -gloom, blighting the revel. Flushed cheeks; sparkling -cups; hot dyes of silk and velvet, and the starry -splintering of gems; sconces of flaming tapers, and, between, -banners of purple and crimson, like great moths, hanging -on the walls above the heads of shining, motionless -men-at-arms, whose staves and helmets trickled light—all this, -the whole rich damasked picture, seemed, while the -sullen eye commanded it, to poise upon its own fall and -change, like the pieces in a kaleidoscope,—the Duke rose -and passed out; and already, with a leap and clatter, -it had tumbled into a frolic of whirling colours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This company, in short, conscious of its deserts, had -felt any cold-watering of its spirits at the present pass -intolerable. There were captains in it, raw from the -icy plains of Piedmont, whence they had come after -rallying their troops into winter quarters, against a -resumption of hostilities in the spring. Tried men of -war, and seasoned toss-pots all, they claimed to spend -after their mood the wages of valour, vindicated in many -a hard-wrung victory. They had stood, Charles the -Bold of Burgundy opposing, for the integrity of Savoy, -and had trounced its invaders well over the border. The -sense of triumph was in them, and, consequently, of -grievance that it should be so discounted by a royal -mumps, who till yesterday had been their strutting and -crowing cock of conquest. What had happened in the -interval, so to return him upon his old damned familiar -self?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something beyond their rude guessing—something -which, at a breath, had re-enveloped him in that cloud -of constitutional gloom, which action and the rush of -arms had for a little dispelled. The change had taken -him earlier in the day, when, about the hour of Mass, -a little white, cake-fed Milanese had come whipping -into Vigevano on a foam-dropping jade, and, crying as -he clattered over the drawbridge to the castle, 'Ho there, -ho there! Despatches for the Duke!' had been snapped -up by the portcullis, and gulped and disposed of; and -was now, no doubt—since no man had set eyes on him -since—in process of being digested.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It may have been he that was disagreeing with their -lord, and sending the black bile to his cheek; or it may -have been that second tale-bearer who, riding in about -midday from the capital, had brought news of the fire -which, the evening before, had gutted his Grace's private -closet. Small matters in any case; and in any case, -the death's-head having withdrawn itself from the feast, -hail the bright reaction from that malign, oppressive -gloom! A fresh breeze blows through the hall; the -candle-flames are jigging to the rafters; away with -mumps and glumps! </span><em class="italics">Via-via</em><span>! See the arras blossom -into a garden; the sentries, leaning to it, relax into -smiling Gabriels of Paradise; the wine froth and sparkle -at the cup rim! 'Way, way for the Duke's Grace!' -the seneschal had cried at the door; and Galeazzo, -clumsily ushered by Messer Castellan, that blunt old -one-eyed Cyclops, had slouched heavily out, and the -curtain had dropped and blotted him from the record.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned sharply to the sound of its thud, and gave -a quick little stoop and start, as if he were dodging -something. The face—that haunting, indefinable ghost—was -it behind him again, unlayed, in spite of all the hope -and promise? Why not, since its exorcist had proved -himself a Judas?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He ground his teeth, and moved on, muttering and -maddening. Only yesterday he had been flattering -himself with the thought of returning to his capital -wreathed in all the glamour of conquest. And now! -False fire—false, damning fire. What victor was he, -who could not command himself? What vicegerent of -the All-seeing, who could nominate a traitor and -hypocrite to be his proxy? And he had so believed in -the accursed boy!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The prophecy of the monk Capello stuck like a -poisonous burr in his soul. He could not shake it off. -Now, he remembered, was the near season for its -maturing—a superstition aggravated tenfold by the thought -that its ripening had been let to prosper in the sun of -his own credulous trust. And he could not temporise -while the moment struck and passed, for his fate turned -upon the moment. Moreover, Christmas was at hand, -a time dear to the traditions of his house; and, rightly -or mistakenly, he believed that upon a maintenance of -those traditions depended his house's prevalence. His -acts must continue to compare royally, in seasonable -largesse and bounty, with those of Francesco, its yet -adored founder; and he could not afford to ignore those -obligations. He felt himself trapped, and turning, -turning, between the devil and the deep sea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he was not without a sort of desperado courage; -and fury lent him nerve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lead on, lead on, Castellano,' he snarled, grinning -like a wolf. 'The calf by now should be in train for his -blooding.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They found him stalled deep among the foundations -of the fortress, in a stone chamber whose kiln-like -conformation shaped itself horribly to the needs and -privacies of the 'question.' He might, this Tassino, -have been a calf indeed, by the deadly pallor of his -flesh. From the moment when, still in the glow of his -send-off, he had dared, producing his </span><em class="italics">pièce de conviction</em><span> -before the Duke, to incriminate Bona on its evidence, -and had been gripped by the neck for his pains, and -flung, squealing like a rat, into this sewer, it had never -warmed by a degree from this livid hue. Sickened, -rather, since here, dreadfully interned throughout the -day, like a schoolboy locked in with an impossible -imposition, he had been left to writhe and moan, in -awful anticipation of the coming inquisition and its -likely consequences to himself. They were prefigured -for him, in order to the sharp-setting of his wits, in a -score or so instruments, all slack and somnolent and -unstrung for the time being, but suggestive of hideous -potentialities in their tautening. The rack riveted to -the floor; the pulley pendent from the ceiling; the -stocks in the corner, with the chafing-dish, primed with -knobs of charcoal, ready at its foot-holes; the escalero -or chevalet, which was a trough for strangling -recalcitrant hogs in, limb by limb; the iron dice for forcing -into the heels, and the canes for twisting and breaking -the fingers; the water-bag and the thumbscrew and -the fanged pincers—such, and such in twenty variations -of hook and stirrup and dangling monstrosities of block -and steel, but all pointing a common moral of terrific -human pain, where the inducements to a calmly thought-out -self-exculpation which had been offered to Tassino's -solitary consideration. No wonder that, when at last -the key turned and the harsh door creaked to admit -his inquisitors, he should have screamed out with the -mortal scream of a creature that finds itself cut off from -escape in a burning house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Castellan struck him, judicially, across the mouth, -and he was silent immediately, falling on his knees and -softly chattering bloody teeth. Galeazzo, rubbing his -chin, conned him at his smiling leisure; while, motionless -and apathetic in the opening of the door, stood a couple -of dark, aproned figures, one a Nubian.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ebbéne, Messer Tassino,' purred the Duke at length; -'has reconsideration found your indictment open to some -revision? Rise, sir—rise.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He waved his hand loftily. The wretch, after a vain -attempt or two, succeeded in getting to his feet, on which -he stood like a man palsied. He essayed the while to -answer; but somehow his tongue was at odds with his -palate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke, watching him, stealthily lifted his left hand, -showing a green stone on one of its fingers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mark ye that?' said he, smiling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other's lips moved inaudibly; his glittering eyes -were fixed upon the token.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Say again,' said Galeazzo, 'who charged ye with it to -this errand?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The poor animal mumbled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now hist, now hist, my lord's Grace,' put in the -Castellan, the light in his solitary eye travelling like a -spark in dead tinder: 'there's an emetic or so here would -assist the creature's delivery.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tassino gulped and found his voice—or a mockery of it:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My lord—spare me—'twas Caprona's widow.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And for what purpose?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fool, lost in terror, garbled his lesson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'To destroy the Duchess, whom she hates. I know -not: 'twas Messer Ludovic made himself her agent to me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ho!' cried the Duke, and the monosyllable rolled up -and round under the roof, and was returned upon him. -'Here's addition, not subtraction. What more?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Advancing, with set grinning lips, he thumbed the -victim's arm, as he might be a market-wife testing a -fowl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Plump, plump,' he said, turning his head about. -'Shall we not singe the fat capon, Messer Castellan, -before trussing him for the spit?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At a sign, the two butchers at the door advanced and -seized their victim. He struggled desperately in their -grasp. Shriek upon shriek issued from his lips. Galeazzo -thundered down his cries:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lay him out,' he roared, 'and bare his ribs.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a moment Tassino was stretched in the rack, an -operator, head and heel, gripping at the spokes of the -drums. The Duke came and stood above, contemplative -again now, and ingratiatory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So!' he said; 'we are in train, at last, for the truth. -Tassino, my poor boy, who indeed sent you with this -ring to me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O Messer! before God! It was your brother.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And acting for whom?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The lady, Beatrice.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who had been given it by?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Messer Bembo.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay: and he had received it from——?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The poor wretch choked, and was silent. Galeazzo -glanced aside: the winches creaked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mercy, in God's name! Mercy!' shrieked the miserable -creature. 'I will swear that it was won from her -Grace by fraud—that she never knowingly parted with it -to—to——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ha!' struck in the Duke; and drew himself up, and -pondered awhile blackly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My brother—my brother,' ran his thought. 'It may -be; it may well be. To ruin her in mine eyes—yes: a -fond fool. But a loyal fool. She'd not conspire—not -she; nor Simonetta, loyal too—who mistrusts him, and -whom he 'd drag down with her. What, Ludovic!—too -crafty, too overreaching. Yet, conspiracy there may be, -and she its unconscious tool.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked down again, glooming, grating his chin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Here's some revision, then. Thou whelp, so to have -bitten the hand that stroked thee! Shall I not draw thy -teeth for it?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Pity, pity!' moaned Tassino. 'I spoke under compulsion.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And so shall,' snarled the other. 'What! To mend -a slander on compulsion! More physic may bring more -cure. Perchance hast made this Countess too thy cats-paw?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My lord! No! On my soul!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She hates the Duchess?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, poisonously.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My lord!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, I say?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas! she covets for herself what the Duchess claims -to heaven.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Riddles, swine! Covets! What or whom?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O, O! Your Grace's false deputy, Messer Bembo.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What! false? You'll stick to it?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How can I help?—O! dread my lord, how can I help -the truth, unless you 'd wrench from me a travesty of it?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His breast heaved and sobbed. The tyrant gloomed -upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is it true, then, he's a traitor?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O, the blackest—the most subtle! There can I utter -without prompting.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was true that he believed he could. Remember how, -mongrel though he was, his mind had been fed on slander -of our saint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Galeazzo dropped into a moody reverie. A long -quivering sigh thereat broke from his prostrate victim. -Mean wits are cunning for themselves; and, looking up -into the dark eyes bent above him, Tassino thought he -saw reflected there a first faint ghost of hope. O, to -hold, to materialise it! He must be infinitely cautious.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He moaned, and wagged his head. The Duke broke -out again:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'False! is he false to me? And yet my wife is true, -thou sayest? and yet this woman of Caprona's jealous, -thou sayest? Of whom?—O, dog, beware!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Master, of a shadow. She reads the woman's baseness -in the man's.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ho! Not like thou: what, puppy?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Before God, no. 'Tis Madonna's very innocence helps -his designs.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'By trusting in, and exalting them for heaven's. -She'll wake when it's too late, and weep and curse -herself for having betrayed thee.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She will? Betray? Too late? These be terms -meeter to a rebellion than a schism.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yet must I speak them, weeping, though I die.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The despot gnawed his lip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hast venom in thee, and with reason, to sting the boy?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas! to warn thee rather from his fang.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ha!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It will lie flat against his palate, till the time when -with his subtle eyes he shall invite thy hand to stroke his -head. No rebellion, lord; no python rearing on his -crushing folds. Yet may the little snake be deadlier.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was gathering confidence hair by hair. There -were glints of coming tempest, well known to him, -blooding the corners of Galeazzo's eyes. He believed, -by them, that he should presently ride this storm of his -own evoking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah!' he moaned, 'I'm sick. Mercy, lord! Truth 's -not itself unless upright.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tyrant tossed his hand:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Set the dog on his legs.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dog so far justified his title that, being released, -he crawled abject on all fours to his master's feet, and -crouched there ready to lick them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bah!' cried the Duke, and spurned him. 'Get on -thy hind legs, ape! The rope's but slackened from thy -hanging; the noose yet cuddles to thy neck. Stand'st -there to justify thyself, or answer with a separate rack -and screw for every lie thou 'st uttered.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He strode a pace or two like one demented; turned, -snarled out a sudden shocking laugh, and came close up -again to the trembling, but still confident wretch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'See, we'll be reasonable,' he said, mockingly insinuative; -'a twin amity of dialecticians, ardent for the truth, -cooing like love-birds. "Well, on my faith, he's a traitor," -says you; and "your faith shall be mine on vindication, -sweet brother," says I. Now, what proves him traitor? -I ask.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He rules the palace.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, I set him in my place.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You did indeed; but—ah! dare I say what's whispered?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You 'd better.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why—O, mercy! Bid me not.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'll not ask again.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You force me to it—that, being there, he designs to stay.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He'll be Duke?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, no.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You shall wince with better reason. Dog, you dog my -patience. I'll turn. What then?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Only that he sits for Christ. Let them depose him -that are devils' men.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My men?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O! he's subtle. No word against your Grace; only -the dumb pleas of love and pity courting comparison.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'With what?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Your Grace's sharper methods.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Beast! Did I not waive them for his sake? Did I -not leave my conscience in his keeping?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas! if thou didst, he's used it, like a false friend, in -damning evidence against thee.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O Judas!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Used it to point the moral of his own large tolerance. -The people rise to him—cry him in the streets: "Down -with Galeazzo! Nature's our God!"'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ha! He's Nature?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'As they read him—lord of the slums.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lord of filthy swine. I'll ring their snouts. Well, -goon. God of the slums, is he?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'God of thy palace, too; mends and amends thy laws—sugars -them for sweet palates—gains the women—O, -a prince of confectioners! There's the ring to prove.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I can guess when he wheedled it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou canst?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The moment thy back was turned. So quick he -sped to discredit thee—to reverse thy judgments. The -monk thou'd left to starve, a dog well-served—he'd -release him, a fine text to open on. But Jacopo was -obdurate—would not let him pass, neither him nor -Cicada——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What! the Fool?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O, they're in one conspiracy—inseparable. He's to -be Vizier some day.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'll remember that.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So he ran off, and presently returned with a -pass-token. I guessed not what at the time; now I guess. -It was the ring he'd coaxed from Madonna.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And saved the monk thereby?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah-ha! Jacopo had forestalled him; the monk was dead.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What did he then?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Cursed thy lord's Grace, and ran; ran and hid himself -away among the people, he and his Fool, and spat his -poison in that sewer, to fester and bear fruit. 'Twas only -presently the Duchess heard of him, and persuaded him on -sweet promise of amendment back to the Court. He's -made the most of that concession since, using it to——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He checked himself, and whimpered and sprang back. -On the instant the storm which he had dreaded while -provoking was burst upon him. Credulous and irrational -like all tyrants, Galeazzo never thought to analyse -interests and motives in any indictment whose pretext -was devotion to himself and his safety. Wrapped in -eternal unbelief in all men, no man was so easily arrested -as he by the first hint of a plausible rogue professing to -serve him, or so quick, being inoculated, to develop the -very confluent scab of suspicion. It were well only for -Autolycus to make the most of his fees during his little -spell of favour, and to disappear on the earliest threat of -himself falling victim to the disease he had promoted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, for this dumb-struck quartette of knaves and -butchers, was enacted one of those little </span><em class="italics">danses-diaboliques</em><span> -in which this fearful man was wont to vent his -periodic frenzies. He shrieked and leapt and foamed, -racing and twisting to and fro within the narrow confines -of the dungeon. Ravings and blasphemies tore and -sputtered from his lips; mad destruction issued at his -hands. He spurned whatever blocked his path, things -living or inanimate; nor seemed to feel or recognise how -he bruised himself, but stumbled over, and snatched at, -and hurled aside, all that crossed the red vision of his -rage. Struggling for coherence, he could force his -imprecations but by fits and snatches to rise articulate:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Subtle!—I'll be subtler—devil unmasked—no Future?—a -specious dog—hell gapes in front—master of my own—to -vindicate the monk?—treason against his lord—ha, -ha! Jacopo! good servant! good refuter of a sacrilegious -hound!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then all at once, quite suddenly as it had risen, the -tempest passed. Slack, dribbling, hoarse, unashamed, he -stopped beside his death-white informer and pawed and -mouthed upon him:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, Tassino! Why—my little honest carver o' -joints! Thou mean'st me well, I do believe.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O my lord!' cried the trembling rogue, 'if you would -but trust me!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, so I do, Tassino,' urged the Duke, nervously -handling and stroking the young man's arm. 'So I do, -little pretty varlet. I believe thy story—fie! an impious -tale. Deserv'st well of me for that boldness—good -courage—the truth needs it. Wilt serve me yet?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My lord, to the death.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Fie, fie! Not so far, I hope. Yet, listen; 'twere -meet this viper were not let to crawl himself within our -laurels, and crown our triumph with a poisonous bite. -Hey?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I understand your Grace.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A hint's enough, then. 'Tis no great matter; but -these worms will sting.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'll jog Jacopo.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You will? He's true to me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O yes!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No convert to the other?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He hates him well.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Does he? A viper has no friends but his kind. This -one—hark! a word in your ear. He 'd loose Capello, who -damned me, and was damned? Were it not right then -the false prophet should take the false prophet's place?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Most right.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The word's with thee, little chuck. How about the Fool?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'As bad, or worse, my lord.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hush! Two vipers, do you say?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My lord!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Be circumspect, that's all. 'Tis our will to give great -largesse this Christmastide.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The very sound will jingle out his memory—bury the -golden calf under gold.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good, little rogue. We'll linger on the Mount -meanwhile—just a day or so, to let the promise work. 'Twere -a sleeveless triumph through a grudging city. Let these -thorns be plucked first from our road.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'll ride at once, saving your Grace.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Do so, and tell Jacopo, "Quietly, mind—without fuss."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Trust me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke flicked his arm and turned, smiling, to the -Castellan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You shall provide Messer Tassino,' said he smoothly, -'with his liberty, and a swift horse.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A week later, Sforza the second of Milan set out for -his Capital, in all the pomp and circumstance of state -which befitted a mighty prince greatly homing after -conquest. His path, by all the rules of glory, should -have been a bright one; yet his laurels might have been -Death's own, from the gloom they cast upon his brow. -Last night, looking from his chamber window, he had -seen a misty comet cast athwart that track: to-day, -scarce had he started, when three ravens, rising from the -rice-swamps, had come flapping with hoarse crow to cross -it. He had thundered for an arbalest—loosed the -quarrel—shot wide—spun the weapon to the ground. An -inexplicable horror had seized him. Thenceforth he rode -with bent head and glassy eyes fixed upon the crupper. -The road of death ran before; behind sat the shadow of -his fear, cutting him from retreat. So he reached the -Porta Giovia, passed over the drawbridge, in silence -dismounted, and for the first time looked up vaguely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Black, black!' he muttered to the page who held his -horse. 'Let Mass be sung in it to-morrow, and for the -chaunts be dirges. See to it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Did he hope so to hoodwink heaven, by abasing himself -in the vestments of remorse? Likely enough. He -had always been cunning to hold from it the worst of his -confidence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But in the thick of the night a voice came to him, -blown upon the wind of dreams:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No Future, O, no Future! Look to thy Past!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he started up in terror, quavering aloud:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who's that that being dead yet speaketh!'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxiii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It is remarkable how quickly the brute genii will -adapt himself to his pint bottle when once the cork -is in. Elastic, it must be remembered, has the two -properties of expansion and retraction, the latter being in -corresponding proportion with the former. Wherefore, -the greater its stretching capacity the more compact its -compass unstretched.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So it is with life, which is elastic, and mostly lived at a -tension. Relax that tension, and behold the buoyant -temperament rinding roomier quarters in a straitened -confinement than would ever a flaccid one in the same; -and this in defiance of Bonnivard, that fettered Nimrod -of the mountains, whose heart broke early in captivity, -and who, nevertheless, as a matter of fact, did not exist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The truth is, a pint pot is over-enough to contain the -mind of many an honest vigorous fellow; and it is the -mind, rather than the body, which struggles for elbow-room. -Carlo, in his prison, suffered little from that -mere mental horror of circumscription which, to a more -sensitive soul, had been the infinite worst of his doom. -He champed, and stamped, and raged, sure enough; -cursed his fate, his impotence, his restrictions; but all -from a cleaner standpoint than the nerves—from one (no -credit to him for that) less constitutionally personal. -That he should be shut from the possibility of helping in -a sore pass the little friend of his love, of his faith, of his -adoration—the pretty child who had needed, never so -much as at this moment, the help and protection of his -strong arm—here was the true madness of his condition. -And he bore it hardly, while the fit possessed him, and -until physical exhaustion made room for the little reserves -of reason which all the time had been waiting on its -collapse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, suddenly, he became very quiet; an amenable, -wicked, dangerous thing; fed greedily; nursed his -muscles; spake his gaolers softly when they visited -him; refrained from asking useless questions to elicit -evasive answers; brooded by the hour together when -alone. They treated him with every consideration; -answered practically his demands for books, paper, pens -and ink, wine—for all bodily ameliorations of his lot -which he chose to suggest, short of the means to escape -it. There, only, was there no concession—no response to -the request of an insulted cavalier to be returned the -weapons of his honour of which he had been basely -mulcted. His fingers must serve his mouth, he was told, -and his teeth his meat—they were sharp enough. At -which he would grin, and click those white knives -together, and return to his brooding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But not, at last, for long. Very soon he was engaged -in exploring his dungeon, a gloomy cellar, two-thirds of -it below the level of the moat, and lit by a single window, -deep-shafted under the massive ceiling. His search, at -first, yielded him no returns but of impenetrable -induracy—no variations, knock where he might, in the echoless -irresponsiveness of dumb-thick walls. Only, with that -incessant tap-tapping of his, the trouble in his brain fell -into rhythm, chiming out eternally, monotonously, the -inevitable answer to a fruitless question with which, from -the outset, he had been tormenting himself, and from -which, for all his sickness of its vanity, he could not -escape.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What hath Cicada done? Concluded me safely sped? -Done nothing, therefore. What hath Cicada done? -Concluded me safely sped? Done nothing, therefore.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, the villainy was working, and he in his dungeon -powerless to counteract it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He lived vividly through all these phases—of despair, -of self-concentration, of resourceful hope—during the -opening twenty-four hours of his confinement. And -then, once upon a time, very suddenly, very softly, very -remotely, there was borne in upon him the strange -impression that he was not alone in his underworld.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The first shadow of this conviction came to haunt him -during the second night of his imprisonment, when, -having fallen asleep, there presently stole into his brain, -out of a deep sub-consciousness of consciousness, the -knowledge that some voice, extraneous to himself, was -moaning and throbbing into his ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the outset this voice appealed to him for nothing -more than the emotional soft babble of a dream. It -seemed to reach to him from a vast distance, breathing -very faint, and thin, and sweet through æons of pathetic -memories. He could not identify or interpret it, save in -so far as its burden always hinted of a wistful sadness. -But, gradually, as the spell of it enwrapped and claimed -him, out of its inarticulateness grew form, and out of that -form recognition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Bernardo singing to his lute. How could he -not have known it, when here was the boy actually -walking by his side? They trod a smiling meadow, -sweet with narcissus and musical with runnels. The -voice made ecstasy of the Spring; frisked in the blood -of little goats; unlocked the sap of trees, so that they -leapt into a spangled spray of blossoms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A step—and the turf was dry beneath their feet. The -sun smote down upon the plain; the grasshopper shrieked -like a jet of fire; the full-uddered cattle lowed for evening -and the shadowed stall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again, a step—and the leaves of the forest blew abroad -like flakes of burning paper; the vines shed fruit like -heavy drops of blood; the sky grew dark in front, rolling -towards them a dun wall of fog—the music wailed and -ceased.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned upon his comrade; and saw the lute swung -aside, the pale lips yet trembling with their song. He -knew the truth at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We part here,' he murmured. 'Is it not? So swiftly -run thy seasons. And you return to Spring; and I—O, -I, go on! Whither, sweet angel? O, wilt thou not -linger a little, that, reaching mine allotted end, I may -hurry back to overtake thee?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, clasping his hands in agony, the tears running -down his cheeks, he saw how the boy bent to whisper in -his ear—words of divine solace—nay, not words, but -music—music, music all, of an unutterable pathos.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he awoke, to hear the shrunk, inarticulate murmur -of it still whispering to his heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat up, panting, in the deep blackness. His hands -trembled; his face was actually wet. But the music had -not ended with his dream. Grown very soft and far and -remote, it yet went sounding on in fact—or was it only -in fancy?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His still-drugged brain surged back into slumber on -the thought. Instantly the voice began to take shape -and reality: he caught himself from the mist—as instantly -it fell again into a phantom of itself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And thus it always happened. So surely as he listened -wakeful, straining his hearing, the voice would reach him -as a far plaintive murmur, a vague intolerable sweetness, -without identity or suggestion save of some woful loss. -So surely did his brain swerve and his aching eyes seal -down, it would begin to gather form, and words out of -form, and expression out of words—expression, of a -sorrow so wildly sad and moving, that his dreaming -heart near broke beneath the burden of its grief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A strange experience; yet none so strange but that we -must all have known it, what time our errant soul has -leapt back into our waking consciousness, carrying with -it, on the wind of its return, some echo of the spirit world -with which it had been consorting. Who has not known -what it is to wake, in a dumb sleeping house, to the -certain knowledge of a cry just uttered, a sentence just -spoken, of a laugh or whisper stricken silent on the -instant, nor felt the darkness of his room vibrate and -settle into blankness as he listened, and, listening, lost -the substance of that phantom utterance?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But at length for Carlo dream and reality were blended -in one forgetfulness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Morning weakened, if it could not altogether dissipate, -his superstitions. Though one be buried in a vault, -there's that in the mere texture of daylight, even if the -thinnest and frowziest, to muffle the fine sense of hearing. -If, in truth, those mystic harmonics still throbbed and -sighed, his mind had ceased to be attuned to them. He -lent it to the more practical business of resuming his -examination of his prison.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At midday, while he was sitting at his dinner, a -visitor came and introduced himself to him, leaping, very -bold and impudent, to the table itself, where he sat up, -trimming his whiskers anticipatory. It was a monstrous -brown rat; and self-possessed—Lord! Carlo dropped -his fists on the cloth, and stared, and then fell to -grinning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O, you've arrived, have you!' said he. 'Your servant, -Messer Topo!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was obviously the gentleman's name. At the sound -of it, he lowered his fore-paws, flopped a step or two -nearer, and sat up again. Carlo considered him -delightedly. He was one of those men between whom and -animals is always a sympathetic confidence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is it, Messer Topo,' said he, 'that you desire to honour -me with the reversion of a former friendship? What! -You flip your whiskers in protest? No friend, you -imply, who could educate your palate to cooked meats, -and then betray it, returning you to old husks? Has he -deserted you, then? Alas, Messer! We who frequent -these cellars are not masters of our exits and our -entrances. How passed he from your ken, that same -unknown? Feet-first? Face-first? Tell me, and I'll -answer for his faith or faithlessness.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The visitor showed some signs of impatience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What!' cried Carlo. 'My grace is overlong? Shall -we fall to? Yet, soft. Fain would I know first the value -of this proffered love, which, to my base mind, seems to -smack a little of the cupboard.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His hand went into the dish. Messer Topo ceased -from preening his moustache, and stiffened expectant, -his paws erect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ha-ha!' cried Carlo. 'You are there, are you? O, -Messer Topo, Messer Topo! Even prisoners, I find, -possess their parasites.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He held out a morsel of meat. The big rat took it -confidently in his paws; tested, and approved it; sat up -for more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What manners!' admired Carlo. 'Art the very pink -of Topos. Come, then; we'll dine together.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Messer Topo acquitted himself with perfect correctness. -When satisfied, he sat down and cleaned himself. Carlo -ventured to scratch his head. He paused, to submit -politely to the attention—which, though undesired, he -accepted on its merits—then, the hand being withdrawn, -waited a moment for courtesy's sake, and returned to his -scouring. In the midst, the key grated in the door, and -like a flash he was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ehi!' pondered Carlo; 'it is very evident he has been -trained to shy at authority.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed so, indeed, and that authority knew nothing -of him. Otherwise, probably, authority would have -resented his interference with its theories of solitary -confinement to the extent of trapping and killing him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The prisoner saw no more of his little sedate visitor -that evening; but, with night and sleep, the voice again -took up the tale of his haunting; and this time, somehow, -to his dreaming senses, Messer Topo seemed to be the -medium of its piteous conveyance to him. Once more he -woke, and slept, and woke again; and always to hear the -faint music gaining or losing body in opposite ratio with -his consciousness. He was troubled and perplexed; -awake by dawn, and harking for confirmation of his -dreams. But daylight plugged his hearing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had expected Messer Topo to breakfast. He did -not come. He called—and there he was. They exchanged -confidences and discussed biscuits. The key grated, and -Messer Topo was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This day Carlo set himself to solve the mystery of his -visitor's lightning disappearances—</span><em class="italics">Anglicè</em><span>, to find a -rat-hole. Fingering, in the gloom, along the joint of floor -and wall, he presently discovered a jagged hole which he -thought might explain. Without removing his hand, -he called softly: 'Topo! Messer Topo!' Instantly a -little sharp snout, tipped with a chilly nose, touched him -and withdrew. He stood up, as the key turned in the -lock once more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This time it was Messer Jacopo himself who entered, -while his bulldogs watched at the door. He came to -bring the prisoner a volume of Martial, which Carlo had -once had recommended to him, and of which he had -since bethought himself as a possible solace in his gloom. -The Provost Marshal advanced, with the book in his -hand, and seeing his captive's occupation, as he thought, -paused, with a dry smile on his lips. Then, with his free -palm, he caressed the wall thereabouts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Strong masonry, Messer,' he said; 'good four feet -thick. And what beyond? A dungeon, deadlier than -thine own.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A heavy task for nails, old hold-fast, sith you have -left me nothing else. </span><em class="italics">Lasciate ogni speranza</em><span>, hey, and all -the rest? I know, I know. Yet, look you, there should -have been coming and going here once, to judge by the -tokens.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He signified, with a sweep of his hand, a square patch -on the stones, roughly suggestive of a blocked doorway, -wherein the mortar certainly appeared of a date more -recent than the rest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other made a grim mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Coming, Messer,' he said; 'but little going. Half-way -he sticks who entered, waiting for the last trump. -He'll not move until.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo recoiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There's one immured there?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, these ten years——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the wooden creature, laying the book on the table, -stalked out like an automaton.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He left the prisoner gulping and staring. Here, in -sooth, was food for his fancy, luckily no great possession. -But the horror bit him, nevertheless. Presently he took -up the book—tried to forget himself in it. He found it -certainly very funny, and laughed: found it very gross, -and laughed—and then thought of Bernardo, and frowned, -and threw the thing into a corner. Then he started to -his feet and went up and down, nervously, with stealthy -glances to the wall. Haunted! No wonder he was -haunted. Did it sob and moan in there o' nights, beating -with its poor blind hands on the stone? Did it——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A thought stung him, and he stopped. The rat! Its -run broke into that newer mortar, penetrated, perhaps, as -far as the buried horror itself. Was </span><em class="italics">there</em><span> the secret of -the music? Was it wont, that hapless spectre, putting -its pallid lips to the hole, to sigh nightly through it its -melodious tale of griefs?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stood gnawing his thumb-nail.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What might it be—man or woman? There was that -legend of a nun with child by—Nay, horrible! What -might it be? Nothing at this last, surely—sexless—just -a spongy chalk of bones, a soft rubble for rats to nest in. -O, Messer Topo, Messer Topo! on what dust of human -tragedy did you make your bed! Perhaps——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No! perish the thought! Messer Topo was a -gentleman—descendant of a long line of gentlemen—no hereditary -cannibal. He preferred meats cooked to raw. An hereditary -guardian, rather, of that flagrant tomb. And yet—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He lay down to rest that night, lay rigid for a long -while, battling with a monstrous soul-terror. A burst of -perspiration relieved him at last, and he sank into oblivion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, lo! swift and instant, it seemed, the unearthly -music caught him in its spell. It was more poignant -than he had known it yet—loud, piercing, leaping like -the flame of a blown candle. He awoke, sweating and -trembling. The vibration of that gale of sorrow seemed -yet ringing in his ears—from the walls, from the ceiling, -from the glass rim of his drinking-vessel on the table, -which repeated it in a thousand tinkling chimes. But -again the voice itself had attenuated to a ghost of -sound—a mere Æolian thread of sweetness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">But it was a voice</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo sat up on his litter. He was a man of obdurate -will, of a conquering resolution; and the moment, -unnerving as it seized him out of sleep, found him nevertheless -decided. A shaft of green moonlight struck down -from the high grate into his dungeon, spreading like oil -where it fell; floating over floor and table; leaving little -dark objects stranded in its midst. Its upper part, -reflecting the moving waters of the moat outside, seemed to boil -and curdle in a frantic dance of atoms, as though the -spirit music were rising thither in soundless bubbles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He listened a minute, scarce breathing; then dropped -softly to the floor, and stole across his chamber, and -stooped and listened at the wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next moment he had risen and staggered back, -panting, glaring with dilated eyes into the dark. There -was no longer doubt. It was by way of Messer Topo's -pierced channel that the music had come welling to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But whence?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Commanding himself by a tense effort, he bent once -more, and listened. Long now—so long, that one might -have heard the passion in his heart conceive, and writhe, -and grow big, and at length deliver itself in a fierce and -woful cry: 'Bernardo! my little, little brother!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the words, he leapt up and away—tore hither -and thither like a madman—mouthed broken imprecations, -fought for articulate speech and self-control. The -truth—all the wicked, damnable truth—had burst upon -him in a flash. No ghostly voice was this of a ten years -immured; but one, now recognised, sweet and human -beyond compare, the piteous solution of all his hauntings. -The run pierced further than to that middle tragedy—pierced -to a tragedy more intimate and dreadful—pierced -through into the adjoining cell, where lay his child, his -little love, perishing of cold and hunger. He read it all -in an instant—the disastrous consequences of his own -disaster. And he could not comfort or intervene while this, -his pretty swan, was singing himself to death hard by.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pity him in that minute. I think, poor wretch, his -state was near the worse—so strong, and yet so helpless. -He shrieked, he struck himself, he blasphemed. -Monstrous? it was monstrous beyond all human limits of -malignity. So the ring had sped and wrought! What -had this angel done, but been an angel? What had -Cicada, so hide-bound in his own conceit of folly? Curst -watchdogs both, to let themselves be fooled and chained -away while the wolf was ravening their lamb!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sobbed, fighting for breath:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Messer Topo, Messer Topo! Thou art the only -gentleman! I crave thy forgiveness, O, I crave thy -forgiveness for that slander! A rat! I'll love them always—a -better gentleman, a better friend, bringing us together!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the thought, he flung himself down on the floor, -and put his ear to the hole. Still, very faint and remote, -the music came leaking by it—a voice; the throb of a lute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He changed his ear for his lips:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bernardo!' he screamed; 'Bernardo! Bernardo!' and -listened anew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The music had ceased—that was certain. It was -succeeded by a confused, indistinguishable murmur, which -in its turn died away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bernardo!' he screeched again, and lay hungering -for an answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It came to him, suddenly, in one rapturous soft cry:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Carlo!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No more. The sweet heart seemed to break, the -broken spirit to wing on it. Thereafter was silence, -awful and eternal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He called again and again—no response. He rose, -and resumed his maddened race, to and fro, praying, -weeping, clutching at his throat. At length worn out, he -threw himself once more by the wall, his ear to the hole, -and lying there, sank into a sort of swoon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Messer Topo, sniffing sympathetically at his face, -awoke him. He sat up; remembered; stooped down; -sought to cry the dear name again, and found his voice a -mere whisper. That crowned his misery. But he could -still listen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No sound, however, rewarded him. He spent the day -in a dreadful tension between hope and despair—snarled -over the periodic visits of his gaolers—snarled -them from his presence—was for ever crouching and -listening. They fancied his wits going, and nudged one -another and grinned. He never thought to question -them; was always one of those strong souls who find, -not ask, the way to their own ends. He knew they -would lie to him, and was only impatient of their -company. Seeing his state, they were at the trouble to take -some extra precautions, always posting a guard on the -stairs before entering his cell. Messer Lanti, normal, was -sufficiently formidable; possessed, there was no -foretelling his possibilities.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But they might have reassured themselves. Escape, -at the moment, was farthest from his thoughts or wishes. -He would have stood for his dungeon against the world; -he clung to his wall, like a frozen ragamuffin to the -outside of a baker's oven.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently he bethought himself of an occupation, at -once suggestive and time-killing. He had been wearing -his spurs when captured—weapons, of a sort, overlooked -in the removal of deadlier—and these, in view of vague -contingencies, he had taken off and hidden in his bed. -His precaution was justified; he saw a certain use for -them now; and so, procuring them, set to work to -enlarge with their rowels the opening of the rat hole. -He wrought busily and energetically. Messer Topo sat -by him a good deal, watching, with courteous and even -curious forbearance, this really insolent desecration of -his front door. They dined together as usual; and then -Carlo returned to his work. His plan was to enlarge the -opening into a funnel-like mouth, meeter for receiving -and conveying sounds. It had occurred to him that the -point of the tiny passage's issue into the next cell might -be difficult of localisation by one imprisoned there, -especially if the search—as he writhed to picture it—was to be -made in a blinding gloom. If he could only have -continued to help by his voice—to cry 'Here! Here!' in -this tragic game of hide-and-seek! He wrought dumbly, -savagely, nursing his lungs against that moment. But -still by night it had not come to be his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, all in an instant, an inspiration came to him. -He sat down, and wrote upon a slip of paper: '</span><em class="italics">From -Carlo Lanti, prisoner and neighbour. Mark who brings -thee this—whence he issues, and whither returns. Speak, -then, by that road</em><span>—' and having summoned Messer Topo, -fastened the billet by a thread about his neck, and, -carrying him to his run, dismissed him into it. Wonder of -wonders! the great little beast disappeared upon his -errand. Henceforth kill them for vermin that called the -rat by such a name!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Messer Topo did not return. What matter, if he had -sped his mission? Only, had he? There was the torture. -Hour after hour went by, and still no sign.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo fell asleep, with his ear to the funnel. That -night the music did not visit him. He awoke—to -daylight, and the knowledge of a sudden cry in his brain. -Tremulous, he turned, and found his voice had come back -to him, and cleared it, and quavered hoarsely into the hole, -'Who speaks? Who's there?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He dwelt in agony on the answer—thin, exhausted, a -croaking gasp, it reached him at length:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Cicca—the Fool—near sped.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The Fool! Thou—thou and none other?' His cry -was like a wolf's at night; 'none other? Bernardo!' he -screeched.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A pause—then: 'Dead, dead, dead!' came wheezing and -pouring from the hole.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He fell back; swayed in a mortal vertigo; rallied. He -was quite calm on the instant—calm?—a rigid, bloodless -devil. He set his mouth and spoke, picking his words:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So? Is it so? All trapped together, then? When -did he die?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Quick!' clucked the voice; 'quick, and let me pass. -When, say'st? Time's dead and rotten here. I know -not. A' heard thee call—and roused—and shrieked thy -name. His heart broke on it. A' spoke never again. -All's said and done. What more? I could not find the -hole—till thy rat came. Speak quick.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What more? What more to mend or mar? Nothing, now. -Hope was as dead as Time—a poxed and filthy corpse. -Love, Faith, and Charity—dead and putrid. Only two -things remained—two things to hug and fondle: -revenge and Messer Topo. He bent and spoke again:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Starved to death?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Starved——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The queer, far little mutter seemed to reel and swerve -into a tinkle—an echo—was gone. Carlo called, and -called again—no answer. Then he set himself to -ruminate—a cud of gall and poison.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On the eighth morning of his confinement, Jacopo, in -person and alone, suddenly showed himself at the door, -which he threw wide open.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Free, Messer,' he said; 'and summoned under urgency -to the palace.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo nodded, and asked not a single question, receiving -even his weapons back in silence. He had had a certain -presentiment that this moment would arrive. He begged -only that the Provost Marshal would leave him to himself -a minute. He had some thanks to offer up, he said, with -a smile, which had been better understood and dreaded -by a gentler soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The master gaoler was a religious man, and acquiesced -willingly, going forward a little up the stairway, that the -other might be private. Carlo, thereupon, stepped across -to the wall, and whispered for Messer Topo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The big rat responded at once, coming out and sitting -up at attention. Carlo put his hands under his shoulders, -and lifting him (the two were by now on the closest terms -of intimacy), apostrophised him face to face:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My true, mine only friend at last,' he said (his voice -was thick and choking). 'I must go, leaving him to thee. -Be reverent with him for my sake—ah! if I return not -anon, to carry out and plant that sweet corse in the -daisied grass he loved—not dust to dust, but flower to -the dear flowers. Look to it. Shall I never see him -more—nor thee? I know not. I've that to do first may -part us to eternity—yet must I do it. Come, kiss me -God-be-with-ye. Nay, that's a false word. How can He, -and this bloody ensign on my brow? My brain in me -doth knell already like a leper's bell. Canst hear it, -red-eyes? No God for me. Why should I need Him—tell -me that? Christ could not save His friend. I must go -alone—quite alone at last. Only remember I loved -thee—always remember that. And so, thou fond and pretty -thing, farewell.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put his lips to the little furry head; put the animal -gently down; longed to it a moment; then, as it disappeared -into its run, turned with a wet and burdened sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, even with the sound, a black and gripping frost -seemed to fall upon him. He drew himself up, set his -face to the door, and passed out and on to freedom and -the woful deed he contemplated.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxiv"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A despotism (Messer Bembo invitus) is the only -absolute expression of automatic government. -The fly-wheel moves, and every detail of the machinery, -saw, knife, or punch, however distant, responds instantly -to its initiative. Galeazzo, for example, had but to make, -in Vigevano, the tenth part of a revolution, and behold, -in Milan! Messer Jacopo—saw, knife, and punch in -one—had 'come down,' automatically, upon the objectives -of that movement. Within a few minutes of Tassino's -return, Bernardo and his Fool, seized quietly and without -resistance as they were taking the air on the battlements, -were being lowered with cords into the 'Hermit's Cell.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sic itur ad astra</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Duke of Milan re-entered his capital on the 20th -of December. His Duchess met him with happy smiles -and tears, loving complaints over his long absence, a -sweet tongue ready with vindication of her trust, should -that be demanded of her. The last week had done much -to reassure her, in the near return to familiar conditions -which it had witnessed; and she felt herself almost in a -position to restore to her Bluebeard the key, unviolated, -of the forbidden chamber. If only he would accept that -earnest of her loyalty without too close a questioning!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, to her joy, he did; inasmuch, you see, as he had -his own reasons for a diplomatic silence. It would -appear, indeed, that recent great events had altogether -banished from his memory the pious circumstances of his -departure to them. He had returned to find his duchy -as to all moral intents he had left and could have wished -to recover it. The fashion of Nature had shed its petals -with the summer brocades, and Milan was itself again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the exquisite, who had set it, was vanished now -some seven days gone; and that is a long time for the -straining out of a popular fashion. He had departed, -carrying his Fool with him, none—save one or two in -the secret—knew whither; but surmise was plentiful, and -for the most part rabid. That he had fallen out of home -favour latterly was obvious and flagrant; now, the report -grew that this alienation had received its first impetus -from Piedmont. That whisper in itself was Nature's -very quietus. Eleven out of a dozen presumed upon -it, and themselves, to propitiate tyranny with a very -debauch of reactionism to old licence. Moreover, -scandal, in mere self-justification, must run intolerable -riot. Nothing was too gross for it in its accounting for -this secession. The pure love which had striven to -redeem it, it tortured into a text for filthy slanders. -The Countess of Caprona had her windows stoned in -retaliation one day by a resentful crowd; the wretched -girl Lucia was dragged from her bed and suffocated in a -muddy ditch. The logic of the mob.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The most merciful of these tales represented Bembo as -having run back to San Zeno, there to hide in terror and -trembling his diminished head. It was the solution of -things most comforting to Bona—one on which her -conscience found repose. She wished the boy no evil; had -acted as she did merely in the interests of the State, she -told herself. If, for a moment, her thoughts ever swerved -to Tassino—now returned, as it was whispered, to his old -quarters with the Provost Marshal, and abiding there a -readjustment of affairs—she hid the treason under a -lovely blush, and vowed herself for ever more true wife -and incorruptible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So for the most part all was satisfactory again; and -there remained only to alienate the popular sympathy -from its idol. And that the Church undertook to do. -The moment the false prophet was exposed and deposed, -it rose, shook the crumbs from its lap, and gave him his -</span><em class="italics">coup de grâce</em><span> in the public estimation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He but sought,' it thundered, 'to turn ye over, clods; -to cleanse your gross soil for the fairer growing of his -roses.' A parable: but so far comprehensible to the -demos in that it implied its narrow escape from some -cleaning process, a vindication of its prescriptive rights -to go unwashed, and therefore convincing. Down sank -the threatening swine-monster thereon; and, being -further played upon with comfits of a festal Christmas-tide, -did yield up incontinent its last breath of revivalism, -and kick in joyful reassurance of its sty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the whole city absolved itself of redemption, and -set to making enthusiastic provision for the devil's -entertainment against the season of peace and goodwill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Si finis bonus est, totum bonum erit</em><span>: nor less </span><em class="italics">Bona bona -erit</em><span>. Only there was a rift within the happy wife's lute, -which somehow put the whole orchestra out of tune. -She saw, for all her sweet chastened sense of relief, that -the Duke was darkly troubled. The oppression of his -mood communicated itself to hers; and she began to -dream—horrible visions of cloyed fingers, and clinging -shrouds, and ropey cobwebs that would drop and lace -her mouth and nostrils, the while she could not fight free -a hand to clear them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, double-damned in his own depression, by reason -of its reacting through his partner on himself, the Duke -one day sent for the Provost Marshal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The season claims its mercies,' gloomed he. 'Take -the boy out and send him home to his father.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'His father!' jeered Jacopo brusquely, grunting in his -beard. 'A's been safe in his bosom these three days.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What!' gasped the tyrant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dead, Messer, dead, that's all,' said the other -impassively; 'passed in a moment, like a summer shower.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was nothing more to be said, then. As for poor -Patch, he was too cheap a mend-conscience for the ducal -mind even to consider. It took instead to brooding more -and more on the drawn whiteness of its Duchess's face, -hating and sickened by it, yet fascinated. The air seemed -full of portents in its ghostly glimmer. His fingers were -always itching to strike the hot blood into it. A loathly -suspicion seized him that perhaps here, after all, was -revealed the illusive face of his long haunting. -Constantly he fancied he saw reflected in other faces about -him some shadow of its menacing woe. Once he came -near stabbing a lieutenant of his guards, one Lampugnani, -for no better reason than that he had caught the fellow's -eyes fixed upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the jovial season sped, and Christmas day was -come and gone, bringing with it and leaving, out of -conviviality, some surcease of his self-torment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, on that holy night, Madonna Bona was visited by -a dream, more ugly and more definite than any that had -terrified her hitherto. Groping in a vast cathedral gloom, -she had come suddenly upon a murdered body prostrate -on the stones. Dim, shadowy shapes were thronged -around; the organ thundered, and at its every peal the -corpse from a hundred hideous wounds spouted jets of -blood. She turned to run; the gloating stream pursued -her—rose to her hips, her lips—she awoke choking and -screaming.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That morning—it was St. Stephen's Day—the Duke -was to hear Mass in the private chapel of the castello. -He rose to attend it, only to find that, by some -misunderstanding, the court chaplain had already departed, -with the sacred vessels, for the church dedicated to the -Saint. The Bishop of Como, summoned to take his -place, declined on the score of illness. Galeazzo decided -to follow his chaplain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bona strove frantically to dissuade him from going. -He read some confirmation of his shapeless suspicions in -her urgency, and was the more determined. She persisted; -he came near striking her in his fury, and finally -drove her from his presence, weeping and clamorous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was in despair, turning hither and thither, trusting -no one. At length she bethought herself of an honest -fellow, always a loyal friend and soldier of her lord, of -whom, in this distracting pass, she might make use. -She had spoken nothing to the Duke of her disposal of -his favourite, Messer Lanti, leaving the explanation of -her conduct to an auspicious moment. Now, in her -emergency, she sent a message for Carlo's instant release, -bidding him repair without delay to the palace. She had -no reason, nor logic, nor any particular morality. She -was in need, and lusting for help—that was enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The messenger sped, and returned, but so did not the -prisoner with him. Bona, sobbing, feverish, at the wit's -end of her resources, went from member to member of -her lord's suite, imploring each to intervene. As well -ask the jackalls to reprove the lion for his arrogance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At eleven the Duke set out. His valet and chronicler, -Bernardino Corio, relates how, at this pass, his master's -behaviour seemed fraught with indecision and melancholy; -how he put on, and then off, his coat of mail, because it -made him look too stout; how he feared, yet was anxious -to go, because 'some of his mistresses' would be -expecting him in the church (the true explanation of his -unharnessing, perhaps); how he halted before descending -the stairs; how he called for his children, and appeared -hardly able to tear himself away from them; how Madonna -Catherine rallied him with a kiss and a quip; how at -length, reluctantly, he left the castle on foot, but, finding -snow on the ground, decided upon mounting his horse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Viva! Viva! See the fine portly gentleman come -forth—tall, handsome, they called him—in his petti-cote -of crimson brocade, costly-furred and opened in front to -reveal the doublet beneath, a blaze of gold-cloth torrid -with rubies; see the flash and glitter that break out all -over him, surface coruscations, as it were, of an inner fire; -see his face, already chilling to ashes, livid beneath the -sparkle of its jewelled berretino! Is it that his glory -consumes himself? Viva! Viva!—if much shouting can -frighten away the shadow that lies in the hollow of his -cheek. It is thrown by one, invisible, that mounted -behind him when he mounted, and now sits between his -greatness and the sun. Viva! Viva! So, with the roar -of life in his ears, he passes on to the eternal silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he rides he whips his head hither and thither, each -glance of his eyes a quick furtive stab, a veritable </span><em class="italics">coup -d'[oe]il</em><span>. He is gnawed and corroded with suspicion, -mortally </span><em class="italics">nervous</em><span>—his manner lacks repose. It shall -soon find it. He will make a stately recumbent figure on -a tomb.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The valet, after releasing his master's bridle, has run -on by a short cut to the church, where, at the door, he -comes across Messers Lampugnani and Olgiati lolling -arm in arm. They wear </span><em class="italics">coats and stockings of mail, and -short capes of red satin</em><span>. Corio wonders to see them there, -instead of in their right places among the Duke's escort. -But it is no matter of his. There are some gentlemen -will risk a good deal to assert their independence—or -insolence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the meanwhile, the motley crowd gathering, the -Duke's progress is slow. All the better for discussing -him and his accompanying magnificence. He rides -between the envoys of Ferrara and Mantua, a gorgeous -nucleus to a brilliant nebula. This, after all, is more -'filling' than Nature. Some one likens him, audibly, to -the head of a comet, trailing glory in his wake. He turns -sharply, with a scowl. 'Uh! Come sta duro!' mutters -the delinquent. 'Like a thunderbolt, rather!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At length he reaches the church door and dismounts. -He throws his reins to a huge Moor, standing ready, and -sets his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From within burst forth the strains of the choir—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'</span><em class="italics">Sic transit gloria mundi,</em><span>'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Bowing his head, he passes on to his doom.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxv"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">'</span><em class="italics small">That being dead yet speaketh</em><span class="small">'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Through the chiming stars, the romp of wind in -woods, the gush of spring freshets, the cheery -drone of bees; through all happy gales—of innocent -frolic, of children's laughter, of sighing, unharmful passion, -of joy and gaiety ungrudging; through the associations -of his gentle spirit with these, the things it had loved, -whereby, by those who had listened and could not -altogether forget, came gradually to be vindicated the -truth of his kind religion, Bernardo's voice, though grown -a phantom voice, spoke on and echoed down the ages. -Sweet babble at the hill-head, it was yet the progenitor -of the booming flood which came to take the world with -knowledge—knowledge of its own second redemption -through the humanity which is born of Nature. Already -Art, life's nurse and tutor, was, unknown to itself, -quickening from the embrace of clouds and sunlight and tender -foliage; while, unconscious of the strange destinies in its -womb, it was scorning and reviling the little priest who -had brought about that union.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, alas! it is always so. Nor profit nor credit are -ever to the pioneer who opens out the countries which -are to yield his followers both.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He perished very soon. Its third night of darkness -and starvation saw the passing of that fragile spirit, -gentle, innocuous, uncomplaining as it had lived. Frail -as a bird that dies of the shock of capture, he broke his -heart upon a song.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I would have no gloomy obsequies attend his fate. In -tears, and strewing of flowers, and pretty plaintive dirges -of the fields—in sighs and lutes of love, such as waited on -the sweet Fidele, would I have ye honour him. Not -because I would belittle that piercing tragedy, but because -he would. It was none to him. He but turned his face -for home, sorrowing only for his failure to win to his -Christ, his comrade, a kingdom he should never have the -chance to influence again. What had he else to fear? -The star that had mothered, the road that had sped him? -All grass and flowers was the latter; of the first, a -fore-ray seemed already to have pierced the darkness of his -cell, linking it to heaven.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'"Let's sing him to the ground."</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"I cannot sing; I'll weep, and word it with thee;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Than priests and fanes that lie."'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Bring hither, I say, no passion of a vengeful hate. It -is the passing of a rose in winter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At near the end, lying in his Fool's arms, he panted -faintly:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My feet are weary for the turning. Pray ye, kind -mother, that this road end soon.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What! shall I hurry mine own damnation?' gurgled -the other (his tongue by then was clacking in his mouth). -'Trippingly, I warrant, shall ye take that path, unheeding -of the poor wretch that lags a million miles behind -lashed by a storm of scorpions.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Marry, sweet,' whispered the boy, smiling; 'I'll wait -thee, never fear, when once I see my way. How could -I forego such witness as thou to my brave intentions? -We'll jog the road together, while I shield thy back.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, let be,' said Cicca. 'Better they stung that, than -my heart through thine arm'—whereat Bernardo nipped -him feebly in an ecstasy of tears.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In the first hours of their fearful doom he was more -full of wonder than alarm—astounded, in the swooning -sense. He had not come yet to realise the mortal nature -of their punishment. How should he, innocent of harm? -Attributing, as he did, this sudden blow to Bona, he -marvelled only how so kind a mother could chastise so -sharply for a little offence—or none. Indeed he was -conscious of none; though conscious enough, latterly, -poor child, of an atmosphere of grievance. Well, the -provocation had been his, no doubt—somehow. He had -learned enough of woman in these months to know that -the measure of her resentment was not always the measure -of the fault—how she would sometimes stab deeper for a -disappointment than for a wrong. He had disappointed -her in some way. No doubt, his favour being so high, -he had presumed upon it. A useful rebuke, then. He -would bear his imposition manly; but he hoped, he did -hope, that not too much of it would be held to have -purged his misconduct. The Duke was returning shortly. -Perhaps he would plead for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So sweetly and so humbly he estimated his own -insignificance. Could his foul slanderers have read his -heart then, they had surely raved upon God, in their -horror, to strike them, instant and for ever, from the rolls -of self-conscious existence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cicada listened to him, and gnawed his knotted -knuckles in the gloom, and wondered when and how he -should dare to curse him with the truth. He might at -least have spared himself that agony. The truth, to one -so true, could not long fail of revealing itself. And when -it came, lo! he welcomed it, as always, for a friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Small birds, small flowers, small wants perish of a little -neglect. His sun, his sustenance, were scarce withheld a -few hours from this sensitive plant before he began to -droop. And ever, with the fading of his mortal tissues, -the glow of the intelligence within seemed to grow -brighter, until verily the veins upon his temples appeared -to stand out, like mystic writing on a lighted porcelain -lamp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So it happened that, as he and his companion were -sitting apart on the filthy stones late on the noon of the -second day of their imprisonment, he ended a long -silence by creeping suddenly to the Fool's knees, and, -looking up into the Fool's face in the dim twilight, -appealed to its despair with a tremulous smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Cicca,' he whispered, 'my Cicca; wilt thou listen, and -not be frightened?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'To what?' muttered the other hoarsely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hush, dear!' said the boy, fondling him, and -whimpering—not for himself. 'I have been warned—some one -hath warned me—that it were well if we fed not our -hearts with delusive hopes of release herefrom.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why not?' said the Fool. 'It is the only food we are -like to have.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He clung suddenly to his friend in a convulsion of -emotion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You have guessed? It is true. Capello. We might -have known, being here; but—O Cicca! are you sorry? -We have an angel with us—he spoke to me just now.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Christ?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, Christ, dearest.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Fool, smitten to intolerable anguish, put him -away, and, scrambling to his feet, went up and down, -raving and sobbing:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The vengeance of God on this wicked race! May -it fester in madness, living; and, dead, go down to -torment so unspeakable, that——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy, sprung erect, white and quivering, struck in:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, no, no! Think who it is that hears thee!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cicada threw himself at his feet, pawing and -lamenting:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou angel! O, woe is me! that ever I were born -to see this thing!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So they subsided in one grief, rocking and weeping -together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O, sweet!' gasped the boy—'that ever I were born -to bring this thing on thee!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, at that, the Fool wrapped him in his arms, -adoring and fondling him, to a hurry of sighs and broken -exclamations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'On me!—Child, that I am thought worthy!—too -great a joy—mightst have been alone—yet did I try to -save thee—heaven's mercy that, failing, I am involved!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so, easing himself for the first time, in an ecstasy -of emotion he told all he knew about the fatal ring, and -his efforts to recover it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bernardo listened in wonder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This ring!' he whispered at the end. 'Right judgment -on me for my wicked negligence. Why, I deserve to -die. Yet—' he clung a little closer—'Cicca,' he thrilled, -'it is the Duke, then, hath committed us to this?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cicada moaned, beating his forehead:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, ay! it is the Duke. So I kill thy last hope!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, thou reviv'st it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How?' He stared, holding his breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O, my dear!' murmured the boy rapturously; 'since -thou acquittest </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> of this unkindness.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Her? Whom? </span><em class="italics">Unkindness!</em><span>' cried the Fool. 'Expect -nothing of Bona but acquiescence in thy fate.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yet is she guiltless of designing it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Guiltless? Ay, guiltless as she who, raving, "that -my shame should bear this voice and none to silence it!" -accepts the hired midwife's word that her womb hath -dropped dead fruit! O!' he mourned most bitterly, -'I loved thee, and I love; yet now, I swear I wish thee -dead!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then, indeed, thou lovest me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Had it come to this, in truth?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas! I know not what you mean. My mother is -my mother still.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thy mother! I am thy mother.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah!' Laughing and weeping, he caught the gruff -creature in his arms:—'Cicca, that sweet, fond comedy!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other put him away again, but very gently, and -rose to his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Comedy?' he muttered; 'ay, a comedy—true—a -masque of clowns. Yet I've played the woman for thy -sake.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bernardo stared at him, his face twitching.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou hast, dear—so tragically—and in that garb! -I would I could have seen thee in it. O! a churl to -laugh, dear Cicca; but——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But what?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">Thou</em><span>, a woman!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He fell into a little irresistible chuckle. Strange wafts -of tears and laughter seemed to sing in the drowsy -chambers of his brain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">Thou</em><span> a woman!' he giggled hysterically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Fool gave a sudden cry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why not? Have I betrayed my child?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned, as if sore stricken, and went up and down, -up and down, wringing his hands and moaning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly he came and threw himself on his knees -before the boy, but away from him, and knelt there, -rocking and protesting, his face in his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah! let me be myself at last. That disguise—thou -mockest—'twas none. Worn like a fool—mayhap—unpractised—yet -could I have kissed its skirted hem. -I am a woman, though a Fool—what's odd in that?—a -woman, dear, a woman, a woman!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bowed himself, lower, lower, as if his shame were -crushing him. In the deep silence that followed, -Bernardo, trembling all through, crept a foot nearer, and -paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mother?' cried the Fool, still crouching, his head -deeper abased; 'no name for me. Cry on—cry scorn, -in thy hunger, on this lying dam! No drop to cool thy -drought in all her withered pastures.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He writhed, and struck his chest, in pain intolerable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mother!' thrilled the boy, loud and sudden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Fool gave a quick gasp, and started, and shrunk -away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not I. Keep off! I am as Filippo made me—after -his own image. He was a God—could name me man -or woman. 'Twas but a word; and lo! too hideous for -my sex, I leapt, his male Fool. That, of all jests, was -his first. He spared me for it. I had been strangled -else.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mother!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again that moving, rapturous cry,</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, no!' cried the Fool. 'Barren—barren—no -woman, even! Still as God wrought me, and human -taste condemned. Let be. Forget what I said. Let -me go on and serve thee—sexless—only to myself -confessing, not thou awarding. I ask no more, nor -sweeter—O my babe, my babe!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mother!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hush! break not my heart—not yet. This darkness? -Speak it once more. Why, I might be beautiful. Will -you think it—will you, letting me ply you with my -conscious sweets? I could try. I've studied in the -markets. Your starving rogue's the best connoisseur of -savours. I'll not come near you—only sigh and soothe. -I'll tune myself to speak so soft—school myself out of -your knowledge. Perchance, God helping, you shall -think me fair.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mother!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more—and he was in her arms.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Surely the loveliest miracle that could have blossomed -in that grave—a breaking of roses from the pilgrim's -dead staff!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henceforth Bernardo's path was rapture—a song of -love and jubilance—his spirit flamed and trembled out -in song.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had spared him his lute; and his fingers, strong -in their instinct to the last, were seldom long parted from -its strings. He lay much in his Fool mother's lap; and -one had scarcely known when their converse melted into -music, or out of music into speech, so melodious was -their love, so rapt their soul-union, and so triumphant -over pain and darkness, as to evoke of fell circumstance -its own balm-breathing, illuminating spirits. What was -this horror of bleak, black burial, when at a word, a struck -chord, one could see it quiver and break into a garden -of splendid fancies!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once only was their dying exaltation recalled to -earth—to consciousness of their near escape from all -its hate and squalor. It happened in a moment; and so -shall suffer but a moment's record.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There came a sudden laugh and flare—and there was -Tassino, torch in hand, looking from the grate above.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ehi, Messer Bembo!' yapped the cur; 'art there? -And I here? What does omnipotence in this reverse? -Arise, and prove thyself. Lucia's dead; the Duke's -returned; Milan is itself again. The memory of thee -rots in the gutter; and stinks—fah! I go to the -Duchess soon. What message to her, bastard of an -Abbot?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy raised his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The season's, Tassino,' he whispered, smiling. 'Peace -and goodwill.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The filthy creature mouthed and snarled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay. Most sweet. I'll wait thine agony, though, -before I give it. She'll cry, then; and I shall be by; -and, look you, emotion is the mother of desire. I'll -pillow her upon thy corpse, bastard, and quicken her -with new lust of wickedness. She'll never have loved -me more. God! what a use for a saint!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cicada crawled, and rose, from under her sweet burden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wait,' she hissed; 'the grate's open. A strong leap, -and I have him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An idle threat; but enough to make the whelp start, -and clap to the bars, and fly screaming.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Fool returned, panting, to her charge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Forget him,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have forgotten him, my mother. But his lie——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Was it a lie?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'About Bona? I am a woman now. I'll answer -nothing for my sex.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'll answer for her. About my father, I meant?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'As thou'lt answer for her, so will I for him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bernardo sighed, and lay a long while silent. Suddenly -he moaned in her arms, like a child over-tired, and spoke -the words already quoted:—'My feet are weary for the -turning.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'Death is Love's seed—a sweet child quickened of -ourselves. He comes to us, his pink hands full of flowers. -"See, father, see, mother," says he, "the myrtles and the -orange blooms which made fragrant your bridal bed. -I am their fruit—the full maturity of Love's promise. -Will you not kiss your little son, and come with him -to the wise gardens where he ripened? 'Tis cold in this -dark room!"'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, in such rhapsodies, 'in love with tuneful death,' -would he often murmur, or melt, through them, into song -as strange.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'Love and Forever would wed</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Fearless in Heaven's sight.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Life came to them and said,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>"Lease ye my house of light!"</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He put them on earth to bed,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>All in the noonday bright:</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>"Sooth," to Forever Love said,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>"Here may we prosper right."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Sudden, day waned and fled:</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Truth saw Forever in night.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>"We are deceived," he said;</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>"Who shall pity our plight?"</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Death, winging by o'erhead,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Heard them moan in affright.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>"Hold by my hem," he said;</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>"I go the way to light."'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>All the last day Cicada held him in her arms, so quiet, -so motionless, that the gradual running down of his pulses -was steadily perceptible to her. She felt Death stealing -in, like a ghostly dawn—watched its growing glimmer -with a fierce, hard-held agony. Once, before their scrap -of daylight failed them, she stole her wrist to her mouth, -and bit at it secretly, savagely, drawing a sluggish trickle -of red. She had thought him sunk beyond notice of her; -and started, and hid away the wound, as he put up a -gentle, exhausted arm, detaining hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Sting'st thyself, scorpion?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cicada gave a thick crow—merciful God! it was meant -for a laugh—and began to screak and mumble some -legend of a bird that, in difficult times, would bleed itself -to feed its young—a most admirable lesson from Nature. -The child laughed in his turn—poor little croupy mirth—and -answered with a story: how the right and left hands -once had a dispute as to which most loved and served the -other, each asserting that he would cut himself off in proof -of his devotion. Which being impracticable, it was -decided that the right should sever the left, and the left -the right; whereof the latter stood the test first without -a wince. But, lo! when it came to the left's turn, there -was no right hand to carve him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Anan?' croaked Cicada sourly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why,' said Bernardo, 'we will exchange the wine of -our veins, if you like, to prove our mutual devotion; but, -if I suck all thine first, there will be no suck left in thy -lips to return the compliment on me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Need'st not take all; but enough to handicap thee, so -that we start this backward journey on fair terms.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, it were so sweet, I 'd prove a glutton did I once -begin. Cicca?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My babe?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Canst thou see Christ?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, in the white mirror of thy face.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I see Him so plain. He stands behind thee now—a -boy, mine own age. Nay, He puts His finger on His sweet -lips, and smiles and goes. "Naughty," that means: "shall -I stay to hear thee flatter me?" He blushes, like a boy, -to be praised. He's gone no further than the wall. -Cicca, thy disguise was deep. I never thought thee -beautiful before. O, what an unkind mother, to hide her -beauty from her boy!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Am I beautiful?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dost not know it? As the moon that rises on the -night. It was night just now, and my soul was groping -in the dark; and, lo! of a sudden thou wert looking down.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let it be night, I say!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What is that in thy voice? I am so happy—always; -only not when I think of Carlo. My dear, dear Carlo! -Alas! what have they done with him? He will often -think of us, and wonder where we are, and frown and -gnaw his lip. If I could but hear him speak once more—cry -"Bernardo!" in that voice that made one's eyeballs -crack like glass, and tickle in their veins. O, my sweet -Carlo! Mother, have I failed in everything?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let be! Thou'lt kill me with thy prattle. Thy -Christ remains behind. He'll see thy seed is honoured -in its fruits.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, wilt thou kiss me good-night? I'm sleepy.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He seemed to doze a good deal after that. But, about -midnight, it might be, he suddenly sat up, and was -singing strongly to his lute—a sweet, unearthly song, of -home-returning and farewell. Cicada clung and held him, held -to him, pierced all through with the awful rapture of that -moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Leave me not: wait for me!' she whispered, sobbing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly, in a vibrating pause, a faint far cry was -wafted to their ears:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bernardo! Bernardo!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fingers tumbled on the lute, plucking its music -into a tangle of wild discords. A string snapped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Carlo!' he screamed—'it is Carlo!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cry leapt, and fell, and eddied away in a long -rosary of echoes. The Fool fumbled for his lips with hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But who might draw death from that sweet frozen spring!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>She feared nothing now but that they would come and -take him from her—snarled, holding him, when her one -sick glint of day stole in to cross her vigil—was in love -with utter solitude and blind night. Once, after a little -or a long time—it was all one to her—she saw a thread -of ghostly whiteness moving on the floor; watched it with -basilisk eyes; thought, perhaps, it was his soul, lingering -for hers according to its promise. The moving spot came -on—stole into the wan, diffused streak of light cast from -the grating;—and it was a great rat, with something -bound about its neck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She understood on the instant. Long since, her -instinctive wit had told her—though she had not cared or -been concerned to listen to it—that that sudden voice in -the darkness had signified that Carlo was imprisoned -somewhere hard by. Well, he had found this means to -communicate with her—near a miracle, it might be; but -miracles interested her no longer. No harm to let him -know at last. </span><em class="italics">He</em><span> could not rob her of her dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She coaxed the creature to her; found him tame; read -the message; re-fastened on the paper, and, by its -glimmer, marked the way of his return.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she rose, and spoke, and, speaking, choked and died.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the dark all cats are grey, and all women beautiful. -But I think the countenance of this one had no need to -fear the dawn.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxvi"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXVI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Amongst all her costly possessions in the Casa -Caprona, there had once been none so loved, so -treasured, so often consulted by Beatrice as a certain -portrait of the little Parablist of San Zeno, which she had -bought straight from the studio of its limner, Messer -Antonello da Messina, at that time temporarily sojourning -in Milan. This was the artist, pupil of Jan Van Eyck, -who had been the first to introduce oil-painting into Italy; -and the portrait was executed in the new medium. It -was a work perpetrated </span><em class="italics">con amore</em><span>—one of the many in -which the exaltation of the moment had sought to express -itself in pigments, or marble, or metal. For, indeed, -during that short spring of his promise, Bernardo's -flower-face had come to blossom in half the crafts of the town.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Technically, perhaps, a little wan and flat, the head -owed something, nevertheless, to inspiration. Through -the mere physical beauty of its features, one might read -the sorrow of a spiritual incarnation—the wistfulness of a -Christ-converted Eros of the ancient cosmogonies. Here -were the right faun's eyes, brooding pity out of laughter; -the rather square jaw, and girlish pointed chin; the baby -lips that seemed to have kissed themselves, shape and -tint, out of spindle-berries; the little strutting cap and -quill even, so queerly contrasted with the staid sobriety -of the brow beneath. It was the boy, and the soul of the -boy, so far as enthusiasm, working through a strange -medium, could interpret it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beatrice, having secured, had hung the picture in a dim -alcove of her chamber; and had further, to ensure its -jealous privacy from all inquisition but her own, looped a -curtain before. Here, then, a dozen times a day, when -alone, had she been wont to pray and confess herself; -lust with her finger-tips to charm the barren contours of -the face into life; lay her hot cheek to the painted flesh, -and weep, and woo, and appeal to it; seek to soften by -a hundred passionate artifices the inflexible continence of -its gaze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But that had been all before the shock and frenzy of -her final repulse. Not once since had she looked on it, -until...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Came upon her, still crouching self-absorbed, that -white morning of the Duke's tragedy; and, on the vulture -wings of it, Narcisso.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The beast crept to her, fulsome, hoarse, shaken with a -heart-ague. She conned him with a contemptuous -curiosity, as he stood unnerved, trembling all through, -before her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well?' she said at last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He grinned and gobbled, gulping for articulation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's come, Madonna.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She half rose on her couch, frowning and impatient.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What, thou sick fool?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Sick!' he echoed loudly; and then his voice fell -again. 'Ay, sick to death, I think. The Duke——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What of him?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Rides to San Stefano.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Does he?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He'll not ride home again.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stared at him in silence a moment; then suddenly -breathed out a little wintry laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So?' she whispered—'So? Well, thou art not the Duke.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He struggled to clear, and could not clear, his throat. -His low forehead, for all the cold, was beaded with -sweat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'All's one for that,' he muttered thickly. 'There's no -class in carrion.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She still conned him, with that frigid smile on her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dost mean they'll seek to kill thee too?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He clawed at his head in a frenzy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, I mean it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why? quotha. Why, won't they have held me till -this moment for one of themselves?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Till this moment?' she murmured. 'Ah! I see; this -Judas who hath not the courage to play out his part.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My part!' He almost screamed it at last. 'Was -death my part?' He writhed and snuffled. 'I tell thee, -I've but now left them, on pretence of going before to -the church. Shall I be there? God's death! Let but -this stroke win through and gain the people, and my life's -not worth a stinking sprat.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sank back with a sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Better, in that case, to have joined thy friends at San -Stefano.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rogue, staring at her a moment, uttered a mortal cry:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou say'st it—</span><em class="italics">thou?</em><span>—Judas?—Who made me so?—Show -me my thirty pieces—Judas? Ay; and what for -wages?—Thy tool and catspaw—I see it all at last—thine -and Ludovic's—bled, and my carcass thrown to -swine!—Judas? Why, I might have been Judas to some purpose -with the Duke—a made man by now. And all for thee -foregone; and in the end by thee betrayed. I asked -nothing—gave all for nothing—ass—goose—cried quack -and quack, as told—decoy to these fine fowl, and, being -used, my neck wrung with the rest. Now——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She put up a hand peremptorily. The fury simmered -down on his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You presume, fellow,' she said. '</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> betray </span><em class="italics">thee</em><span>?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She raised her brows, amazed. Too stupendous an -instance of condescension, indeed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He slunk down on his knees before her, cringing and -praying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, Madonna, no! I spake out of my great madness.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Answer me,' she said disdainfully, 'out of thy little -reason. What wouldst thou of me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He lifted his shaking hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Sanctuary, sanctuary. Let me hide here.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He crawled to her, pawing like a beaten dog.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Sanctuary,' he reiterated brokenly. 'You owe it me—that -at least. I've bided, bided—and ye made no -sign—yielded all for guerdon of a sweet word, the whiles I -thought thyself and Ludovic were stalking that -conspiracy to cut it off betimes. God's death! Not you. -And now I know the reason. Now comes the reckoning, -and I'm left to face it as I will. God's death!' His -panic mastered him again. 'What of my substance have -I changed for nothing! There was Bona's ring—I might -have lived ten year on't. And I parted with it—for -what? O, you're a serpent, mistress! You worm your -way—and get it too. What! Bona may bide a little, -and Simonetta? They're but the bleeding trunk. The -head's lopped while I talk.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His voice rose to a screech—broke—and he grovelled -before her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mercy, Madonna. Spare me to be thy slave. All -comes thy way—love, and revenge, and power. The -boy's dead—the Duke's to die——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had roused her at last, and in a flash. She sprang -to her feet, white, hardly breathing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The boy?' she hissed; 'what boy?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He whimpered, sprawling:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'God a' mercy! Lady, lady! the boy, the very boy -you sped the ring to kill.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dead!' she whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay,' he snivelled from the ground; 'what would you? -dead as last Childermas—starved to death, in the -"Hermit's Cell" they call it, by the Duke's orders.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her fingers battled softly with her throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dead!' she said again. 'Narcisso, good Narcisso, who -hath gulled thee with this lie?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No lie,' he answered, squatting, reassured, on his hams. -''Twas Messer Tassino, no less, that carried thy token to -Vigevano. 'Twas no later than yesternight I met our -fine cockerel louping from the stews. A' was drunk as -father Noah—babbled and blabbed, a' did—perked up -a's comb, and cursed me for presuming fellowship with a -duke's minion. I plied him further, e'en to tears and -confidence—had it all out of him; how a'd carried the -ring for Messer Ludovic, and brought back the deadly -order. Jacopo nipped the Saint that noon. A's singing -in paradise these days past.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beatrice stood and listened. A dreadful smile was on -her lips. But, when she spoke, it was with wooing -softness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good trust—always the faithful trust. Why, Narcisso, -what should I do betraying thee? We'll work and end -together, and take our wages. Dead, do you say? Why, -then, all's said. Now go, and tuck thyself within the -roof till the storm pass. This lightning's all below. Go, -comrade, do you hear?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He dwelt a moment only to gasp and mumble out his -thanks; then turned and slouched away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For minutes she dwelt as he had left her, rigid, smiling, -bloodless. Presently, still standing motionless, she moved -her lips and was muttering:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dead? So swift? Made sure against all chances? -Starved? He said starved. Not to that I betrayed -him. Inhuman hound! Thou mightst have spared -him bread!—left sorrow and cold durance to work their -lingering end. What then? Why, Bona then—Bona -made widow; free to work her will. Should </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> be -the better?—Dead? was he not always dead to me? -Starved to death! O, hell heat Lampugnani's dagger -scarlet, that it hiss and bubble in his flesh! Galeazzo! -Galeazzo! I'll follow soon to nurse thy pains to -ecstasy!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She fell silent; presently began to sway; then, with a -sudden shriek, had leapt upon the picture, and torn aside -its curtain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bernardo!' she moaned and sobbed—'Bernardo, I -loved thee! O God! he eats me with his eyes. Here, -here! fasten with thy starved lips. I'll not speak or cry, -though they burrow to my heart. All thine—hold -on—I'll smile and pet mine agony—Bernardo——!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the tumult of her passion she heard a sound at the -door; caught her breath; caught herself to knowledge -of herself, and, instinctively closing the curtain, stood -panting, dishevelled, its hem in her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Someone, something, had entered—a haggard, unshorn -ghost of ancient days. It came very softly, closing the -door behind; then, set and silent, moved upon her. Her -pulses seemed to sink and wither.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Carlo!' she shuddered softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was fearful that the thing never spoke as it came on. -Nor did she speak again. Love that has once joined -keeps understanding without words. What has it bred -but death? Here was the natural fruit of a sin -matured—she saw it gleam suddenly in his clutch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She watched fascinated. As he drew near, without a -word she slowly raised her hands, and rent from her bosom -its already desecrated veil. Then at last she spoke—or -whispered:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'm ready. Here's where you kissed and sighed. -Bloody thy bed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took her to his remorseless grasp. She had often -thrilled to know her helplessness therein—wondered -what it would be to feel it closed in hate. Now she had -her knowledge—and instantly, in an ecstasy of terror, -succumbed to it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, no!' she gasped. 'Carlo, don't kill me!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Voiceless still, he raised his hand. She gave a fearful -scream.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I never meant it. I'm innocent. Not without a word. -Carlo! Carlo!—I loved him!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Writhing in her agony, she tore herself free a moment, -and sank at his feet, rending, as she fell, the curtain from -its rings. His back was to the wall. In a mirror opposite -he caught the sudden vision of his intent, and, looking -down upon it, dim and spiritual, the sweet face of the -Saint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dagger dropped from his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The silence of a minute seemed to draw into an age.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly he was groping and stumbling like a drunken -man. Words came to him in a babble:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let be!—I'll go—spare her?—Where's thy Christ? -He forgave too—I'm coming—answer for me—here!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he drove a staggering course from the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tears began to gush from her as she lay prone. Then -suddenly, in a quick impulse, she rose to her feet, and -re-veiling the picture, turned with her back to it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ludovic remains,' she whispered.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Reeling, dancing, to himself it seemed, Carlo passed -down the streets. White was on the ground; his brain -was thick with whirling flakes; the roar of coming waters -tingled in his veins. Sometimes he would pause and look -stupidly at his right hand, as if in puzzle of its emptiness. -There should have been something there—what was it?—a -knife—a stone for two birds—Beatrice—and then -Galeazzo. What had he omitted? He must go back and -pick up the thread from the beginning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The waters came on as he stood, not close yet, but -portentous, with a threatening roar. A crying shape, -waving a bloody blade, sped towards and past him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Arm, arm, for liberty!' it yelled as it ran. 'Tyranny -is dead!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carlo chuckled thickly to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That was Olgiati. What does he with my dagger? -I'll go and take it from him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned, swaying, and in the act was swept upon, -enveloped, and washed over by the torrent. It stranded -him against a wall, where he stood blinking and giggling -in the vortex of a multitudinous roar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Murdered! the Duke! Murdered! Close the gates!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It thundered on and away. He looked at his hand -once more; then turned for home.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxvii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXVII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Murdered? Ay; struck down in a moment -on the threshold of God's house, lest his bloody -footsteps entering should desecrate its pavement; snatched -away to perdition from under the very shadows of stone -saints, the gleam of the golden doors fading out of the -horror of his fading eyes. He had had but time for one -cry—'O Mother of God!'—a soul-clutch as wild as when -a drowning man grasps at a flowering reed. In vain; he -is under; the fair blossom whisks erect again, dashing -the tears from her eyes; the white face far below is a -stone among the stones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">So passeth the world's glory!</em><span>'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The choir sang, the organ thundered on; and still their -blended fervour, while the dead body was relaxing and -settling into the pool itself had made, rose poignant, -sharper, more unearthly, piercing with tragic utterance -its own burden, until at length, flood crashing upon -flood, the roar of human passion below burst and -overwhelmed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What had happened?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the Duke entered the church by the west door, a -full-bodied gentleman, dressed all in mail, with a jaque of -crimson satin, had stepped from the crowd to make a way -for him; which having affected to do, he had turned, and -raising his velvet beret with his left hand, and dropping -on one knee as if to crave some boon, had swiftly driven -a dagger into Galeazzo's body, and again, as the Duke -fell away from the stroke, freeing the blade, into his throat. -Whereat, springing on the mortal cry that followed, flew -other sparks of crimson from the body of the spectators, -and pierced the doomed man with vicious stings, labouring -out cries as they stabbed:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'For my sister!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'For liberty!'—until the hilts slipping in their fingers -sent their aims wavering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was all the red act of a moment—the lancing of a -ripened abscess—the gush, the scream, the silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then, the sudden stun and stupefaction yielding -to mad tumult.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>None might know the gross body of this terror; only -for the moment red coats and their partisans seemed -paramount. But for the moment. The next, the scarlet -clique seemed to break up and scatter, like a ball of red -clay in a swirl of waters, and, flying on all sides, was -caught and held in isolated particles among the throng. -Whereat, for the first time, authority began to feel its -paralysed wits, and to counter-shriek the desperate -appeals of murder to rally and combine for liberty. A -mighty equerry of the Duke, one da Ripa, fought, -bellowing and struggling, to pull out his sword. -Francione, a fellow of Visconti's, stabbed him under the -armpit, and he wobbled and dropped amid the screaming -crush, grinning horribly. Lampugnani, smiling and -insinuative, slipped into a wailing group of women, and -urged his soft passage through it, making for the door. -He was almost out when, catching his foot in a skirt -plucked sickly from his passing, he stumbled and rolled; -and the spear of a giant Moor, who on the instant mounted -the steps, passed through his throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His body was first-fruits to the frenzied people without. -They seized and bowled it through the streets, whacking -it into shreds; then returned, breathed and blooded, for -more. They were in high feather, ripe for prey and -plunder. Galeazzo was dead! Viv' Anarchia!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They pressed their way into the tumult; snatched -gems and trinkets from the hair and bosoms of girls half -mad with terror; took their brief toll of dainties, and -only fell away, pushing and gabbling, before the onset of -the ducal guard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Order followed presently; and then the tally and -reckoning. The last fell swift enough to crown an orgy -of perfection: screams in the squares; dismembered -limbs; mangled scarecrows tossing in file from the -battlements. Only two principals, Olgiati and Visconti, -escaping for the moment, were reserved for later torments. -A conspiracy, like near all blood conspiracies, abortive; -founded on the common error that slaves abhor their -bonds. They do not, in this world of unequal gifts and -taxes. Moreover, it is inconsistent to suppose one can -inaugurate an era of tolerance with murder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Olgiati, the last of that dark band to suffer, was also its -only martyr. He had struck for a principle, straight in -itself, oblique in its fanatic workings. Cursed by his -father, abandoned by his friends and relatives, committed -to unspeakable tortures, his courage never blenched or -wavered. He gloried in his deed to the last; and, if a -prayer escaped him, it was only that his executioners -should vouchsafe him strength at the end to utter forth -his soul in prayer. To Bona he sent a gentle message, -deprecating his own instrumentality in the inevitable -retributions of Providence. She answered, saintly -vengeance, with a priest, urging him to save his soul by -penitence. He retorted that, by God's mercy, his final -deed should serve his sins for all atonement; and, so -insisting, was carried to his mortal mangling. At the -last moment a cry escaped him: 'Mors acerba: fama -perpetua!' and, with that, and the shriek of 'Courage, -Girolamo!' on his lips, he passed to his account.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The peace of Italy is dead!' cried Pope Sixtus on the -day when news of the crime was brought to him. His -prophecy found its first justification in a fervent appeal -from the Duchess of Milan that he would posthumously -absolve of his sins the man whom 'next to God she had -loved above all else in the world.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And no doubt, being left to the present mercy of -factions, she believed it.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="epilogue"><span class="bold large">EPILOGUE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Long after the body of that tragedy had been -committed to its eternal sleep, silently and by -night, under the pavement of the vast cathedral; long -after, in years so remote that the very bones of it, -crumbling into ashes, might hardly be distinguished -from the fibrous weeds of the golden shroud in which -they had first been laid, fit moral to the deadly irony -of human glory; long after, when the rise and fall of -Ludovico Sforza, ripe achievement of his house and race, -were already grown a tale for the wind to sob and -whisper through lonely keyholes of a winter's night, -there survived in Lombard legend the story of a -marvellous boy, who, coming to earth and Milan once upon -a time with some strange message of Christ in Arcady, -had taken the winter in men's hearts with a brief -St. Martin's summer of delight, and had so, in the bright -morning of his promise, been snatched back to the -heaven's nursery from which he had estrayed, leaving -faint echoes of divinity in his wake. It whispered of a -tomb, to which old tyranny had consigned this embodied -angel, found emptied, like its sacred prototype's; and of -the awe thereat which had fallen on its searchers. A -fable, scared away at first in the strenuous roar of Time -struggling for the mastery of great events; yet, in the -later days of peace, still to be heard, very faint and far -like a lark's song, dropping from the clouds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sweet music, but a fable; and therefore more potent -than reality to move men's hearts. Beatitudes are -pronounced on things less tangible. Had Bernardo preached -a creed more orthodox, he had been at this day a -calendared saint on the strength of it. But he had only -interpreted the human Christ to a people his prince and -comrade had wrought to redeem.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There had been those who—unless crushed under the -fall of the tyranny which had sustained them—might -have nipped the legend at its sprouting; telling how, on -the night of that first dark and dire confusion, a cavalier, -taking advantage of the brief anarchy that reigned, had -appeared, with a force of his adherents, before the -provost-marshal of that date, and had demanded of his hands -the body of the martyred boy; how, kissing and wrapping -the poor corpse in a costly cloak, this cavalier had lifted -it with giant strength to his pommel, and, dismissing his -silent followers, had ridden forth with his burden into the -snowy darkness of the plains; how, in the ghostly dawn -of a winter's morning, there had broken tears and wailing -from a spectral throng gathered about the portal of an -abbey in the distant hills; how, when presently the -spring came with music of birds and gushing waters, -there were no turves so green, no daisies so lush and -fearless in all the monastic God's-acre, as those which the -heart-stricken sorrow and tenderness of a newly received -brother had brought to cover the grave of one, the -youngest and most innocent of all the silent community -gathered thereto.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>God rest thee, Carlo! Peace to thy faithful, passionate -heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An imperishable love, whose fruits, descended from -that ancient stock, we eat to-day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the body of the Fool, flung into a pit, was the -carrion which first enriched its roots.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Printed by T. and A. 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