UNIVERSITY OF CALIFOR 
 AT LOS ANGELES 
 
 
 GIFT OF
 
 

 
 ITALY AND FRANCE 
 
 IN THE 
 
 SIXTEENTH CENTURY: 
 
 OB, 
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA AT BARLETTA.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA : 
 
 THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 
 
 THE STRUGGLES OF AN ITALIAN 
 
 FOREIGN INVADERS AND FOREIGN PROTECTORS. 
 
 BY MASSIMO D'AZEGLIO. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 PHILLIPS, SAMPSON AND COMPANY. 
 
 MDCCCLIX.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by 
 
 PHILLIPS, SAMPSON, AUD COMPANY, 
 
 in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of 
 Massachusetts. 
 
 RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE : 
 
 STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY 
 
 H. O. HOUQHTON AND COMPANY.
 
 pa 
 
 TO 
 
 THOSE TRUE AMERICANS 
 
 WHO THINK JUSTLY OF ITALIAN VIRTUE, WHO, 
 
 ALIVE TO ITALIAN MISFORTUNES, DO NOT EXPECT 
 
 ITALIAN SOCIAL REGENERATION FROM BLOOD, STILETFO, OR 
 
 CONSPIRACY, BUT FROM ORDER, LAW, MUTUAL 
 
 RESPECT, AND FROM THE REVIVAL OF 
 
 ITALIAN WISDOM, AND OF 
 
 ITALIAN VALOR. 
 
 .'!8l>930
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 MOST opportunely at the present time, when a strug- 
 gle for national independence is going on in Europe, I 
 offer this work to the friends of Italy in America. 
 
 Depending on their kind feelings towards Italy, I ven- 
 ture this translation, notwithstanding the many defects 
 which must naturally follow my employing a language 
 with which I was totally unacquainted until I had 
 reached manhood. 
 
 I have an opinion of my own about Napoleon III. 
 I think him honest. He means, I believe, to do good 
 to Italy. The fact of his upholding the government of 
 Piedmont gives rise to misgivings in the minds of 
 many. Perhaps there is some reason for this. But 
 exitus acta probat. 
 
 However, if Italy should succeed in asserting her 
 rights, with the help of France, will she continue 
 
 A servir sempre vincitrice o vinta ?
 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 The true and hopeful answer to this question depends 
 only on the moderation and sincerity of the Italians 
 themselves. 
 
 The lessons of 1821, '31, and '48 ought, by this time, 
 to have supplied a code of practical national principles 
 to aU parties in the Peninsula. 
 
 Will the Italians profit by those lessons ? 
 
 This is the fear of all sincere well-wishers to Italy.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ON the evening of a charming day of April, A. D. 1503, 
 the bell of the tower of San Domenico, in Barletta, gave 
 the signal for the Angelus. Following the custom of the 
 peaceful inhabitants of villages, especially at the south of 
 Italy, the people had assembled towards night on the 
 square near the sea, to exchange friendly words, and in 
 the cool breeze, and under the serene sky, enjoy some 
 rest after the labors of the day. Groups of soldiers, 
 Spanish and Italians, had resorted there with the villa- 
 gers, for the same purpose; some were strolling about 
 the place, and some were standing ; others sitting on, or 
 leaning against the boats which had been drawn up in 
 a line along the beach. Like soldiers of all nations and 
 of every age, their manners were such as to say, 
 " Avaunt ! the land is ours ! " Indeed the villagers, 
 leaving the best of the place to them, kept aloof, there- 
 by tacitly encouraging the soldiers' arrogance. If the 
 reader, to form in his own mind a picture of the scene 
 before us, represented to himself a gathering of the sol- 
 diers of our own times, in their unmeaning uniform, he
 
 8 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 would be very far from having a correct idea of it. 
 Gonzalo's army, the infantry especially, albeit they were 
 clad better than any other, and decidedly the best corps 
 in Christendom, had no knowledge whatever, no more 
 than any other troops of the sixteenth century, of that 
 severe modern discipline which has gone so far in mak- 
 ing the soldiers look like one another from head to foot. 
 At that time any man who entered the army, either on 
 foot or with horse, was at perfect liberty to dress, arm, or 
 equip himself as he pleased. Hence it was easy to know 
 the nationality of every soldier, so striking were the 
 variety and characteristics of fashions, colors, and bear- 
 ing, which distinguished every man in that crowd. The 
 Spaniards were in general serious, immovable, with an air 
 of defiance, wrapped (or, as they say, embozados) in the 
 national mantle (capo), from under which protruded the 
 long and slender Toledo blade ; the Italians, garrulous, 
 animated in their gestures, in close jackets, and the pistol- 
 ese dagger hanging across their backs. 
 
 At the first sound of the bell the noise instantly ceased, 
 and all heads were uncovered, because, in those times, 
 even soldiers had faith, and really said their prayers. 
 After a brief interval the hats were replaced, and the 
 hum of voices began again. At first, and from a dis- 
 tance, the crowd appeared to be gay and lively ; however, 
 had you mingled with them, you would have easily found 
 that there was a common reason to be uneasy and low- 
 spirited ; and the mind as well as the conversation were 
 engrossed by matters of distress. Truly there was co- 
 gent reason for it. The famine was beginning to be felt 
 already amongst the troops and the inhabitants of Bar- 
 letta. The noble Captain waiting for the tardy reinforce- 
 ments expected from Spain, kept his bands within the
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 9 
 
 walls of that town, not willing to commit the success of 
 the war to the chances of one day, when his men were 
 so much inferior in number to the French. 
 
 The square was skirted on three sides by the poor 
 dwellings of seafaring men, by the tavern, and by the 
 church. The other side was open, looking over the sea, 
 and incumbered, as is usual in such places, with boats, 
 nets, and other implements proper for the trade. On the 
 far-off horizon the tall and dark form of Mount Gargano 
 emerged from the waters, with its crest illumined by the 
 level beams of the setting sun. 
 
 In the intervening space a vessel was trying to make 
 headway ; she tacked continually over the becalmed 
 waters, endeavoring to catch the slightest wind, which 
 now and then breathed over the gulf, and rippled the 
 waters here and there with long curling waves. The 
 distance from the shore, and the faint evening light did 
 not enable the men in Barletta to I'ecognize her colors. 
 
 A Spaniard, standing near the shore with the rest of 
 the soldiers, gazed at the boat, straining his eyes, and 
 twisting a pair of very long mustachios, rather gray than 
 black. 
 
 " What are ye looking at, there, like a statue, and not 
 even deigning to answer a question ? " 
 
 This was the apostrophe of a Neapolitan soldier who 
 felt offended because the Spaniard had not answered him 
 before, but still his comrade did not seem moved, not in 
 the least. At last he gave a groan, which sounded more 
 like the wind from a pair of bellows, than the breathing 
 of a man, and said : 
 
 " Voto a Dios, que Nuestra Senora de Gaeta, who 
 sends good wind and grants speedy journey to so many 
 who pray to her on the sea, might as well hurry that ship
 
 10 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 on to us, who pray to her from the land, and who have 
 nothing else to put between our teeth, unless it is the butt 
 of an arquebuse ! Perhaps there is a cargo of grain and 
 provisions for those excommunicated French, who have 
 caged us up here to die of hunger. . . . T mala Pasqua 
 me de JDios, y sea la primera que viniere, si su Gracia el 
 Seiior Gonzalo Hernandez* after he has taken a good 
 dinner and a better supper, cares for us more than for 
 the cuero de sus zapatos" f 
 
 " What can Gonzalo do ? " the Neapolitan retorted, 
 with great pertness, only for the sake of contradicting ; 
 " has he to turn himself into bread to enter thy belly ? 
 He will give it when he has it ; and, now tell me, who 
 has swallowed up the ship, which an evil luck drove over 
 the shoals of Manfredonia, Gonzalo, or yourselves ? " 
 
 The Spaniard, slightly changing his countenance, 
 seemed disposed to resent, but just then another stepped 
 in, who, slapping him on the shoulder, shaking his head, 
 and lowering his voice so as to give more weight to his 
 words, said: 
 
 " Remember, Nuno, that when, in order to obtain the 
 pay, that unlucky game was played in Taranto, your pike, 
 was only three inches from Gonzalo's breast, . . . 
 and if ever your neck was near to be wedded to the 
 rope, it was then. ... Do you remember the yell we 
 raised ? it might have frightened a lion. Is yon tower 
 moving now ? " and he pointed to the great spire tower- 
 ing above all the house-tops ; " just as much was Gonzalo 
 moved, and so very cool. . . . I see him even now. 
 .... He warded the blow off with that hairy hand 
 
 * And may God send me a bad Easter, and let it be the next one, if 
 his Grace, my lord Gonzalo Hernandez, 
 t Sole of his shoes.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 11 
 
 of his, and said, ' Mira que sin querer no me hieras.' " * 
 The dark face of the old soldier became even a shade 
 darker, and to stop a conversation which did not please 
 him much, cut off short, saying : 
 
 " What do I care for Taranto, the pike, or Gonzalo ? " 
 
 " What do you care ? " rejoined the first speaker with a 
 smile, "if you mind Ruy Perez and wish to keep the 
 way clear for bread, when Dios fuere servido to send us 
 some, better not to talk so loud, lest Gonzalo should hear, 
 and think of Taranto. ... A half word is scarcely 
 anything, as we Italians say, but a whole one is often too 
 much ; and man forewarned is forearmed." 
 
 Nuno answered with a grumbling, as if he did not 
 mind what he was saying ; the warning, however, made 
 him think in spite of himself; he looked around with an 
 eye of distrust, as if he wanted to be assured that it 
 entered no one's head to report his words. Fortunately 
 he saw no cause of fear. 
 
 Meanwhile the square was almost deserted ; the clock 
 struck the hour of one ; f and our friends, like the rest, 
 parted company and disappeared through the narrow and 
 dark streets of the town. 
 
 Ruy Perez remarked, as he went along : " Diego Gar- 
 cia will arrive this evening, the good lances of his squad 
 must have met with good hunting in the country, and, may 
 be, we will have a dinner to-morrow, much better than 
 the supper of to-night." 
 
 The thoughts awakened by this hopeful suggestion 
 put an end to all talk, and they moved silently towards 
 their quarters. 
 
 While this conversation was carried on, the vessel, 
 
 * Take care, lest thou should'st unintentionally wound me. 
 t One hour after sundown.
 
 12 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 which at first appeared to steer on her course, had slowly 
 approached the land. A small boat was lowered, two 
 men jumped in it, and rowed very swiftly towards the 
 beach ; as soon as they had got off, the vessel set all 
 sails, headed for the sea, and was seen no more. The little 
 boat came up at the remotest part of the strand, and the 
 travellers landed. The first of them, perceiving no per- 
 son around, halted to wait for his companion who tarried 
 to pick up a valise and a few other articles, and pulled 
 the boat up at the extremity of a small pier which was 
 used for the purpose of a landing from large vessels. 
 Having fastened the boat, he rejoined his companion, 
 who, from his appearance and an air of haughty 
 superiority, seemed to be of a different condition, and 
 who, as if in conclusion of a conversation held during 
 the passage, said to him : " Then, Miguel, it is time to be 
 on the qui vive ; thou knowest who I am, I'll say no 
 more ! " 
 
 Miguel understood very well the meaning of those 
 few syllables ; he bowed in assent, and they walked 
 towards the tavern. 
 
 In front of the tavern there was a kind of verandah, 
 supported by six slender pillars, built of rough bricks, 
 and under it a row of tables for the accommodation of 
 customers. Mine host's name was Baccio da Rieti, but 
 he was nicknamed Venom, from certain suspicions enter- 
 tained by the people in his regard. This man had caused 
 a huge picture of the Sun to be painted in glaring red 
 between the windows ; the painter, in accordance with 
 certain notions of astronomy not yet obsolete, had given 
 to it eyes, nose, and mouth, with rays of gold encircling 
 the whole figure, and ending in the shape of swallow- 
 tails, which made it visible at a mile's distance in day-
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 13 
 
 time. The house was a two-story building. A large 
 room below was used for the purpose of both kitchen and 
 dining-hall. Wooden steps led to the rooms above, where 
 the host lived with his family, and where he lodged any 
 traveller whom an evil star might have led to spend 
 there a wretched night. It was then the general custom 
 throughout Italy to sup at the twenty-third hour ; * hence 
 only a few soldiers or some inferior officers were at that 
 hour sitting at the door enjoying the cool breeze. They 
 belonged to the troops of Signer Prospero Colonna, 
 who then followed the arms of Spain, and were all 
 stout-hearted young men, who were in the habit of re- 
 porting hither with the other brave men of the army. 
 The host, who knew his business to perfection, kept 
 wine and cards always ready at their call ; and as he 
 was a jovial man, and full of fun, he had a pleasant 
 word for every one, and by this way he squeezed money 
 out of all hands. At that very moment, Venom was 
 standing on the door, fanning himself with his cap, and 
 his apron tucked up on one side ; words, jests, and loud 
 laughing showed the good humor of the company, who 
 were in an uproar of merriment. 
 
 The two strangers were approaching, and to avoid 
 being noticed, they walked on leisurely, occasionally 
 .stopping and conversing between themselves. As they 
 reached the door, and their persons were illumined by 
 the glare from the fireplace, they did not appear different 
 in their dress from the others present. The company 
 scarcely paid any attention to them ; but one of them 
 who sat at a distance, and, being in the dark, could bet- 
 ter discern the new-comers, could not help exclaiming, 
 
 * Until within a few years it was the custom in Italy to reckon the 
 day from sundown to sundown.
 
 14 KTTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 " oh ! " with an expression of great wonder, and in the 
 act of half rising, he added " the Duke /. . . ." The tone 
 in which these words was uttered showed that there was 
 a name to follow ; but a quick look from the man who 
 was entering had worked like a spell, and rammed the 
 word back in the soldier's throat. Nobody noticed his 
 embarrassment, only one of his comrades sitting by him, 
 remarked : 
 
 " Boscherino ! what are you dreaming about ? A 
 duke ? I did not see you drinking much to-day ! Is 
 this the place for a duke ? " 
 
 Boscherino felt relieved at not being believed, and at 
 being taken even for a fool or a drunkard ; he said no 
 more, turned to another subject, and went on as merrily 
 as before. 
 
 Venom propelled his obese and greasy person towards 
 the strangers, who had just entered the tavern. His 
 countenance was of olive color, furnished with a beard ; 
 and a malicious mien, in which the nature of both the 
 hypocrite and the assassin were transparent. With 
 great self-possession he touched his cap, or feigned to, 
 and said : 
 
 " At your command, gentlemen." 
 
 He who went by the name of Miguel, came forward 
 and replied : " Something for supper." 
 
 Mine host put on a sorry face, and with an air of 
 disappointment, which he endeavored to make appear 
 sincere, answered : " Supper ? you mean to get a bite 
 
 of some sort, if even that can be got God knows, 
 
 little has been left here since the siege began ! A 
 loaf of bread which formerly was bought for a cor- 
 tonese, now costs half florin, just what I pay at 
 the bakery But any how, for such gentlemen
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 15 
 
 like you, something must be put together. ... I will do 
 my best. . . ." 
 
 After this preamble, which was made, as taverners 
 are wont to make, for the purpose of charging ten for 
 what cost only two, he opened a pantry and took out 
 a pan, which he placed on the grate ; then with his 
 apron he began to fan the fire, raising the cinders to 
 the very ceiling, and thus soon warmed some ribs of a 
 lamb, which he protested was the only food to be ob- 
 tained in Barletta at that hour, and even that had been 
 reserved for a corporal who was every moment expected 
 to supper. " But gentlemen of your quality cannot be 
 sent to bed without supper." 
 
 However, the food proved very acceptable, and was 
 served in earthen-ware painted with flowers. A huge- 
 bellied pitcher of water, of the same material, and the half 
 of a goat's-milk cheese, as hard as a stone, in which still 
 appeared the marks of the knives of those who had proved 
 their strength against it, completed the repast. The guests 
 occupied two seats at the bottom of the hall, if that 
 cavern blackened with soot could be thus called. At the 
 opposite end was a huge fireplace, so wide that it might 
 afford room to a dozen persons under its shelter. Three 
 or four grates were built on each side of the chimney. 
 In front of it stood the cook's table, and from the middle 
 of it, a narrow board, completing the form of a T, ran the 
 whole length, almost to the bottom of the hall, where the 
 two travellers had seated themselves. Four burners 
 from a brass lamp that hung from the main rafter, gave 
 just light enough to save the people from bruising their 
 shins against the benches and stools which surrounded 
 the table. 
 
 Mine host, after preparing everything for his new cus-
 
 16 KTTOIIK KIFKAMOSi'A. 
 
 tomers, returned to the door, whistling as it was hi- wont. 
 At that moment a man galloped up to the tavern, sprang 
 to the ground without touching stirrup, and eried, 
 
 " Hurrah, my boys, cheer up, good news ! and thou, 
 Veleno, multiply thyself in twenty pieces, there shall be 
 work for all. Diego Gareia has returned, and has put 
 up at his quarters ; he will be here shortly ; they are 
 twenty or twenty-five good swords, himself being a- good 
 as four ; so try to be ready, and hurry . . . what art thou 
 about ? Art thou dead ? Away with thec ! . . . " 
 
 The host stared at the new-comer with wide-open 
 eyes. The messenger was pressed and punched on every 
 side by those brave fellows, anxious to know how the 
 ride had turned out. 
 
 "You will kill me, and you will know nothing." lie 
 said, pushing them aside, and getting away from them. 
 " Is it you or I who is to speak ': " 
 
 They all cried out : " Let us have it ; the news ? " 
 
 " The news is that we are fatigued to death, and we 
 have just returned, after having been on horseback 
 
 fourteen hours without a drop of water Hallo ! 
 
 Veleno, bring me a pint, fresh .... my throat is 
 
 like tinder But forty heads of large cattle, 
 
 and sixty dozens of small ones are in Marietta by this 
 time ; and three men-at-arms made prisoners. If it 
 plea-e Hod, they will have to pay many gold ducats for 
 their ransom, as >ure a< we are baptized Chri.-tians. if 
 
 they wish to see the doors of their homes again I 
 
 a-Mire you, we had enough work to unsaddle them and 
 
 take their swords And will you bring the 
 
 wine before I drop dead? Their movements were 
 a< quirk as lightning. One of them, especially, was 
 brought to the ground, and the wounded horse had him
 
 ETTOKE FIKIZAMOSCA. 17 
 
 under, and we all cried to him, ' surrender or you'll die!' 
 no use, he kept on giving thrusts in tierce with a long 
 sword of his ; and had it not broken on the iron bolster 
 of Inigo'-s saddle, as he aimed a cut at his horse, either 
 we must have finished him with our lances, or he would 
 have been rescued. But at last he surrendered his 
 stump of a sword to Diego Garcia." 
 
 At this, Venom arrived with the wine, and poured it 
 out to the speaker, who said to him : " Bless me, you 
 have come at last ! " 
 
 " What is that devil's name ? " Boscherino inquired. 
 
 " I could not tell . . . they say he is a great 
 French baron ; his name sounds like La Crotte .... 
 La .... La Motta. Yes. I remember it now ; 
 yes, La Motta ; the lump of a beast, had you seen him, 
 to make the earth quake. Anyhow, we came out well ; 
 and if it pleases God we will have a good time." And 
 turning his eyes around to the interior of the tavern, he 
 shouted : " What art thou doing ? knave and poltroon 
 that thou art ! the fire is not yet ready ! I'll measure 
 thy shoulders with this lance." 
 
 And in fact he was moving to carry out his threat, 
 when he saw a large caldron placed over a handful of 
 oak branches, and he forbore. The flames rose crackling, 
 and the landlord, all in a sweat, with flushed cheeks, 
 thought no more of famine or siege, and knowing from 
 experience that there was no trifling with Paredes or 
 with his companions, bustled about the house giving 
 orders. In very quick time he had found all that was 
 wanted ; and skinning a lamb, he put one half of it in 
 the caldron to boil ; the other half he spitted and 
 stretched across the andirons to roast. The business was 
 in a fair way.
 
 18 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 The man who ordered the supper remarked : " It is 
 well for you, Veleno ! Had those fellows arrived, and 
 had you not been ready, you would have felt the weight 
 of Diego Garcia's four fingers. I will go now, and send 
 them here in half a minute's notice." 
 
 " Hallo ! Ramazzoto, are you not coming back with 
 them ? " said one of the corporals. 
 
 " How can I ? the squad is still mounted. I must 
 quarter them, and keep an eye to the booty, which is still 
 in the castle square ; and at night, you know, there are 
 busy hands ; and in truth there is no lack of them among 
 these troops. Fieramosca, Miale, Brancaleone, and the 
 rest of us have been detailed to the watch, and it has 
 been charged to us to keep order. The hour for the 
 Spaniards will come some other time. Every one in his 
 turn." 
 
 " If it be so," said Boscherino, " we'll go with you, 
 and lend you a hand. Halloo, boys ! with a will ; this 
 man has run over many more miles than we have, he 
 needs help." And thus they all went to the rendezvous 
 of Ramazzoto's company, talking all the while on what 
 had happened that day. Ramazzoto was leading or 
 rather dragging his mule after him by the bridle, sur- 
 rounded by his friends, giving an account of his exploits, 
 and answering their questions. Boscherino followed 
 them, paying great attention to what was said, when he 
 felt his cloak pulled from behind, and turning, he saw the 
 shadow of one of the two strangers whom he had left at 
 supper in the tavern. 
 
 " Boscherino," said the stranger with a low voice, 
 holding him back, while the rest were going on their 
 way, " the Duke wants to see you ; have no fears, he will 
 not harm you in the least. But be cautious, and on the 
 alert, come ! "
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 19 
 
 Boscherino, on hearing this, felt as if he had caught 
 the ague, and whispered so low as to be scarcely audible, 
 " Are you Don Miguel ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is I ; hush, and act like the brave man thou 
 art." Boscherino had been chieftain of squads under Sig- 
 nor Giovanni Pagolo Baglioni and other Italian leaders, 
 and had always behaved with valor; no man could be 
 more ready to brave danger than he was ; so much so, 
 that when a company of five hundred men on foot, and 
 one hundred fusileers had been levied, under the com- 
 mand of Signer Prospero, to bring reinforcements to 
 Gonzalo, he had been retained with a large compensation 
 for his valuable services. But no matter how stout his 
 heart was, what between the message he had just received 
 from Don Miguel and the command to retrace his steps, 
 knowing in whose presence he was soon to be, his knees 
 began to tremble ; and from choice he would rather 
 breast the swords than to go whither he was summoned. 
 Thinking of what had just passed, he was not wrong in 
 his mind and said to himself: 
 
 " I know too well that he heard me when I said 
 ' the Duke.' . . . The fiend from hell was then on my 
 tongue, . . . and still he was not near enough to hear 
 me, and I do not think I spoke very loud. But where 
 would not that soul of a renegade reach ? . . . What 
 the devil is he come here for ? " 
 
 With these thoughts in his mind they reached the 
 tavern. The family alone were in the kitchen. The 
 Duke had retired to the quarters appointed to him for the 
 night, in the story above the large eating-room. The 
 boards of the floor were badly joined together, and so 
 full of crevices that it was very easy to hear and see 
 what was going on below.
 
 20 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 The host had in fact some suspicion that this man was 
 not, after all, what he feigned to be ; but the town being 
 blockaded only by land, all sorts of people landed from 
 the sea, and however extraordinary in appearance, without 
 attracting especial attention, not much notice was taken 
 of persons even when they did not exactly look like the 
 common run. 
 
 Don Miguel and Boscherino mounted the stairs, and 
 reached the Duke's room. The furniture of that apart- 
 ment consisted in a bed covered with gray serge, a small 
 table, and a few stools. The lamp was well-nigh giving 
 out, when the wind blowing from the open door put it out 
 altogether ; while Don Miguel went for another light, 
 Boscherino found himself alone with the Duke. He stood 
 riveted to the spot, drawing up close to the wall, daring 
 not to speak and scarcely to breathe, and wondering why 
 he should feel so cowardly, he who cared for nobody. 
 Still the consciousness of being before that remarkable 
 and terrible man, so near to him, as to hear, almost feel 
 his heavy breathing, in that dark stillness, alone ; all this, 
 in spite of himself, made his blood curdle, and he wished 
 himself dead. Don Miguel came back with a lamp, and 
 the Duke appeared sitting on the side of the bed. He 
 appeared like a man who never enjoyed rest of body or 
 soul. Well built and of spare limbs, of a height not 
 above the ordinary size, he exhibited a nervousness and 
 trembling which could not be described. He had on a 
 dark cape with sleeves of broad and overlapping lists. 
 He carried a narrow dagger at the belt, and he had laid 
 his sword on the table near his hat, surmounted by only 
 one black plume. He had gloves on, and rough travel- 
 ling boots. He turned towards the new-comers with a 
 pale countenance, two sunken cheeks marked with spots
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 21 
 
 black and blue, reddish mustache and beard, the latter 
 flowing in two divisions upon the breast. But nothing 
 could be imagined with which to compare* his looks. 
 His eyes would at times dart like the viper's, then as full 
 of charm as a babe's glance, and again as terrible as 
 the bloody look of a hyena, all in turn, as it best suited 
 his purposes. 
 
 He looked at Boscherino, who had shrunk into one 
 half of his size, and still kept the same position, just as 
 if he had been waiting to be condemned to the gallows. 
 The Duke endeavored to assure him with a benign look, 
 but the soldier knew him too well, and felt none the less 
 afraid. 
 
 " You have recognized me, Boscherino," said he ; 
 " and I am glad of it. I have always looked upon you 
 as a trusty and honest fellow. Had you not come in 
 my way, I would have looked after you. Well, I knew 
 you were here. Tell nobody you have seen me. You 
 know I can repay you for your services ; and it would 
 do you no good to offend me." 
 
 The Caposquadra felt the truth of these words too 
 well, and replied, 
 
 " Vostra Eccellenza Ittustrissima can dispose of me at 
 your "pleasure, and I will be as faithful a servant as I 
 ever was. Only allow me to say one word with frank- 
 ness." 
 
 The Duke nodded assent, and the other continued : 
 
 " Noble lord, I have pledged you my faith, and it 
 will never fail you. But perhaps you have been seen. 
 If, after I leave you, should it become known that you 
 are here, a charge might be laid on me, which I deserve 
 not. Thus, I do not see how I can come out of this with 
 honor."
 
 22 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 " Go," the Duke answered, " be in good spirits, try 
 to be a brave man, and I will not lay on thee any blame 
 thou deservest not. A few hours only of incognito will 
 suit my purpose ; afterwards I care not what people may 
 know or say ; but let it never escape from thy lips, if 
 thou valuest my favor." 
 
 Boscherino made no reply, he only bowed most re- 
 spectfully ; but looked like one who, ready to comply, 
 feels an apprehension, withal, that there is not much 
 trust placed in his protestations. He took leave, and 
 continuing his bows as he walked backward, he left the 
 room, longing to be in the street again. After a few 
 moments Don Miguel came out also, and went to the 
 room prepared for him, and locked himself in. That 
 part of the tavern remained for the night as still as if it 
 were untenanted.
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 THE company for whom supper had been prepared, 
 entered Venom's tavern pretty near two o'clock, and the 
 large room was filled by them immediately. Mine 
 host wished to do himself honor, and hence he had 
 spread a clean white cloth on the tables ; the plate, the 
 spoons, and the forks, some of pewter and some of brass, 
 having been carefully polished, were shining more than 
 usual ; and to make the table even more attractive, he 
 had placed, here and there, leaves of grape-vines to serve 
 as mats for pitchers and tumblers, and the glare of many 
 lights sparkled on the drops of water hanging on them, 
 testifying that they had been lately rinsed. Diego 
 Garcia de Paredes entered first, followed by the captive 
 French barons Jacques de Guignes, Giraut de Forses, 
 and La Motte. The Spaniard was the most daring and 
 the most athletic man of the whole army, and perhaps of 
 all Europe ; and he seemed built expressly for the pro- 
 fession of arms, the adaptedness for which depended at 
 that time above all on great robustness and muscular 
 strength. His height was far above that of his com- 
 rades ; constant exercise and continual hardships had 
 kept his form from growing heavy, and had given 
 such thickness to brawny muscle and sinew, as to make 
 his breast, shoulders, and limbs appear not unlike a 
 colossus of ancient sculpture, athletic in form, but
 
 24 ETTORE F1EKAMOSCA. 
 
 well proportioned and handsome* A neck, thick as a 
 bull's, supported a head, small, curly, with hair upright 
 on the crown ; his countenance was manly, full of con- 
 fidence, but not haughty ; there was even a touch of 
 amiability ; and his soul, candid, loyal, and full of honor, 
 was transparent from it. He had already doffed his 
 armor, and appeared in his dress of tight leathern 
 breeches, so that whenever he moved the muscles might 
 be seen rising and darting as if under the bare skin ; a 
 short cloak, after the Spanish fashion, thrown over one 
 shoulder, completed a dress elegant in its simplicity. 
 
 " My lords barons," he said, leading the prisoners into 
 the room with a knightly courtesy, " we Spaniards say : 
 ' Duelos con pan son menos.' * The odds have been 
 against you to-day ; to-morrow they will be against us ; 
 but here we join hands ; let us eat, because, I think, we 
 are all on the same side, in this point, por Dios santo ; 
 we have broken more than one lance, and that is work 
 enough for one day ; they cannot say that we let our 
 arms get rusty. Be of good cheer ; on the morrow, we 
 will talk about the ransom, and you will be satisfied that 
 Don Garcia knows how to deal with chevaliers of your 
 stamp." 
 
 La Motte showed the countenance of one who is 
 sorely vexed and still does not wish to manifest his 
 vexation. He was a brave man, a good soldier, and 
 terrible with arms in hand, and his appearance did not 
 belie his high spirits ; but being as haughty a man as one 
 can ever hope to meet, he could not bear to receive any 
 kindness at the hands of him who had made him pris- 
 oner. However, knowing too well how mean it would be 
 to show ill-humor, he replied as pleasantly as he could : 
 * Food makes trials more bearable.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 25 
 
 " If your hand bears down so light in fixing a ran- 
 som as it did when it gave a cut of the sabre, the Cris- 
 tianissimo will have to pay out of his own purse, or 
 I will have to keep you company for the rest of my 
 life." 
 
 " Inigo," said Paredes to a handsome youth, twenty- 
 five years old, who, while waiting for his supper, had 
 commenced nibbling at the bread, " if there be a question 
 about blows, we must ask your horse how he felt the cuts 
 of this baron." 
 
 Then turning towards La Motte, he continued : 
 
 " Too late I notice that you have no sword ; here is 
 mine," and unbuckling the belt, he girded it around 
 the captive's side ; "it would be too bad if that hand 
 of yours could not find a hilt to rest upon. Barletta will 
 be your prison, until an exchange is effected or a ran- 
 som paid. Your word, knight ! " 
 
 La Motte offered his right hand to Paredes, who 
 pressed it. " The same bargain for your companions. 
 Is it not so?" he added, turning towards Correa and 
 Azevedo, two men-of-arms, who had captured La Motte's 
 companions. They agreed at once, and with equal cour- 
 tesy took their swords from their sides and fastened them 
 on the French prisoners. 
 
 " Supper 's ready," shouted Venom, as he was in the 
 act of laying in the centre of the table a dish which con- 
 tained one half of the lamb, swimming in a gravy of 
 onions and vegetables, and a large plate containing a pile 
 of lettuce on both sides. The sight of the dish had no 
 less power than the voice of the host to bring together 
 the famished company. With a rush, all of one accord, 
 removing and replacing the settles, were at once seated, 
 and at work ; and for a few minutes no words were 
 
 2
 
 26 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 heard, but instead, the clatter of plates, tumblers, forks, 
 and knives. 
 
 Apart from the rest, at the head of the table, sat Diego 
 Garcia, who had La Motte and De Guignes at his sides. 
 He carved with a large dagger, and with the rapidity of the 
 lightning he had cut the lamb into pieces, and divided it 
 among the guests. His iron stomach, at whose command 
 he had two rows of the whitest teeth, so powerful as not 
 to fear any comparison, was very soon appeased, if not 
 satisfied. He left no bones on his plate, because no mas- 
 tiff could compete with him in crushing and reducing 
 them to dust. "When the dish was empty, he filled his 
 goblet and those of his neighbors. They began to be 
 warmed by the wine ; and questions, repartees, remark?, 
 and jesls went around the room, about the chances of the 
 war, their horses, the blows they had given and received, 
 and the different adventures of the day. At the lower 
 extension of the table sat the twenty or more Spaniards, 
 who, out of courtesy, had left the cabecera, as they call it, 
 that is to say, the upper table, to their chief and the 
 French captives. An attentive observer could easily 
 perceive in their manners and words that affectionate 
 brotherhood which binds together men every day exposed 
 to the same dangers, when every one feels the importance 
 of a compact being formed to help each other as the occa- 
 sion may require. It was a picture worthy of Gherardo 
 delle Notti ; the rough and swarthy faces of those warriors, 
 whom the exercise, the late fatigue, and the heat of the 
 summer had made red and fiery, as the light of the 
 lamps reflected upon them, created an effect of chiaro- 
 scuro befitting that painter's pencil. 
 
 As the supper was drawing to an end, the conversa- 
 tion, as usual, became more general ; and those men who
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 27 
 
 had gained honor and profit by the exploits of the day, 
 had become merry and noisy. Only Inigo's brow ap- 
 peared gloomy. He had his elbow on the table, his look 
 was vacant, and he seemed to take little or no interest in 
 what his companions said around him. 
 
 " Inigo ! " said Azevedo, holding his hand out to him ; 
 he had emptied, perhaps, one glass more than usual, and 
 being naturally a jolly companion, he could not bear to 
 see one of the company with a moody face ; " Inigo, 
 we shall have to think you are in love, if the women of 
 Barletta were worthy the regards of a handsome fellow 
 like you. But here, please God, we have nothing to 
 fear. Perhaps you have left your heart behind in Spain 
 or in Naples ? " 
 
 "I have no thought of women, Azevedo," answered 
 the youth ; " but I think of the fine horse which yon 
 French baron has almost killed when he kept plying 
 with his hands like a madman, and when he ought to 
 have been satisfied that he could not escape. Poor Cas- 
 tagno ! his shoulder is gone, I fear, and I will never be- 
 stride the like of him. Don't you remember what that 
 devil did in Taranto ? and when we waded that river 
 .... how do you call it ? .... There, where Quigno- 
 nes was killed .... and the water was deeper than we 
 thought ; who reached the shore first ? and after so much 
 bravery and so many dangers he was to die at the hands 
 of that enemy of God ! " 
 
 " Easy, don't speak so loud," said Correa ; " it was done 
 in good warfare, and we must not aggravate the prisoner's 
 situation ; it would be wrong to let them hear us." 
 
 " And I swear," rejoined Inigo, " I had better be down 
 with a good wound myself, if I could see my poor Cas- 
 tagno well ; and I would fain have pardoned the French-
 
 28 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 man had he broken his sword on ray head, instead of 
 giving vent to his fury against the horse. The man is 
 to be aimed at ; at least it is done so by those who know 
 how to handle a sword ; not here and there and every- 
 where, like a maniac. Beshrew him ! he acted as if he 
 were chasing away flies." 
 
 " I say then, thou art right, por Dios" exclaimed 
 Segredo, an old soldier, with such a beard and moustache 
 as could only belong to a man who had weathered the 
 storms of many a battle. " When I was young I felt 
 just as thou dost ; look at this brow," and he lightly 
 struck it with his right hand, made callous by wearing 
 the iron gauntlet, and pointed to a scar which cut his 
 eyelid horizontally, " this I got from el Key Chico, and 
 all for the sake of a horse, the best bay that was ever 
 ridden into a camp. That was a horse, I assure you ! 
 When we had to fight at arm's length, it was enough to 
 give him a twitch with the bridle, and make a show at 
 the spur. I wish you had seen him then ! He would 
 rear, and arch, and bound forward, so that if I did not 
 wish to fly over his ears, I had to keep my knees tight, 
 I assure you ; as he came down on his forefeet again, 
 down came my sword with him, and it looked like God's 
 lightning, and by that way I have sent many a Moor to 
 take supper with Satanas. But at the siesta ! I would 
 lie down in the shade between his legs ; poor Zamoreno 
 de my abna, he would not even chase the flies, lest he 
 might disturb me. Then, at the siege of Carthagena, 
 where few among you could have been, and where the 
 great Captain began to make himself known, . . . and 
 Segredo tells you, it was then the time to make war, a 
 little better than now, under the very eye of King Fer- 
 dinando, and of Queen Isabella, who was a beauty, and
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 29 
 
 of all his court, well paid, and both men and horses kept 
 as if they belonged to the prince's household, . . . well, 
 to tell you about my horse, in a sally where el Rey Chico 
 fought at the head of his men like a lion, and he was 
 a man who only came up to my breast, but had an arm 
 that left the mark wherever he touched, that poor 
 beast had his neck pierced through and through by a 
 Moorish lance, and for the first time in his life he fell on 
 his knees. I leaped to the ground, and saw at once that 
 there was no remedy. Still I hoped to lead him back out 
 of the camp, as I could not bear to abandon him ; he fol- 
 lowed me, though he could scarcely keep on his feet. I 
 am not ashamed to repeat here that very warm tears ran 
 down my cheeks through the gorget of my helmet, and 
 wetted my neck ; and I had never before known what it 
 was to cry ! At that moment a party of Moors wheeled 
 around, pressed by a band of soldiers, and the king had 
 to fly, and ran yelling like a bull. Alone, and on foot, I 
 gave myself up as lost. I kept many of them at bay 
 with my good sword ; but that of the king fell on my 
 head, cleft the helmet, and I was left on the field as dead. 
 When I recovered, and could rise, I found poor Zamoreno 
 dead at my side." 
 
 Every one ai'ound the table heard with much feeling 
 the adventures of Segredo's horse ; and when the old 
 soldier had told of Zamoreno's death, he could not help 
 showing in his face, wrinkled by age and exposure, 
 that his old companion was still fresh in his memory. 
 But he became ashamed at this show of weakness, and 
 filled the glass to divert the eyes which were still riv- 
 eted on him. Jacques de Guignes, who, as well as the 
 other prisoners, felt in much better spirits as the stom- 
 ach was filling up, having heard the history of Zamoreno, 
 began :
 
 30 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 "Chez nous, sir knight, this would not have happened 
 so very easily, although it is too true that les bonnes 
 coutumes de chevalerie are falling away veiy fast. Still 
 a man-at-arms would feel dishonored if, in an equal con- 
 test of arms and number, his sword should fall on a horse. 
 But everybody knows that we cannot expect so much 
 courtesy from the Moors." 
 
 "And still," said Inigo, replying to a remark not ad- 
 dressed to him, " we can easily prove that killing horses 
 is not an exclusive tactic of Moors. "We remember too 
 well the plains of Benevento and Manfredi could tell a 
 sad tale. And who ordered the charge but Charles 
 d'Anjou, who was no more of a Moor than either of 
 us?" 
 
 The thrust was well aimed, and the Frenchman seemed 
 to feel ill at ease on his chair. 
 
 "On dit, perhaps it is true; but Charles d'Anjou was 
 fighting for a kingdom, and he had to do with an excom- 
 municated enemy of the Church." 
 
 "And was he not an enemy to other people's prop- 
 erty ? " replied Inigo, with a bitter smile. 
 
 "I believe you know," here chimed in La Motte, 
 " that the kingdom of Naples is a fief of the Holy See, 
 and Charles had been invested with it ; and then the 
 strength of a good sword is to be taken in account of 
 some claim." 
 
 "And then, and then ... let us tell the whole history," 
 Inigo rejoined ; " the German morions of Manfredi, and 
 the thousand Italian chevaliers who were led by Conte 
 Giordani against the French, had given such accounts of 
 themselves from the outset of the battle, that Charles 
 d'Anjou, wishing to become King of Naples, did not judge 
 it amiss to have recourse to such manoeuvres, notwith-
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 31 
 
 standing les bonnes coutumes de chevalerie so rigorously 
 followed in those times." 
 
 "If you wish it, I will allow," answered La Motte, 
 " that the German cuirassiers are an available soldiery, 
 and perhaps they held out against the French gensdarme- 
 rie for a while, on the day at Benevento ; but as for your 
 thousand Italians, oh, indeed ! if two hundred years ago 
 they were what they are now, it was not necessary for 
 the French to waste their time in crippling their poor 
 horses. During these last five years that I have been 
 battling in Italy, I have had a good chance to know 
 them. I have followed King Charles under the brave 
 Louis d'Ars ; and I assure you their bad faith has given 
 us more work than their swords. They pursue a kind of 
 warfare in which French chivalry is entirely unpractised." 
 
 These bombastic words did not please the hearers, and 
 were most offensive to Inigo, who had been well brought 
 up, with good training, and had talent above the common 
 average ; he was on friendly terms with many Italians 
 who were in the pay of Spain, and knew well enough 
 how affairs had been conducted at the descent of Charles 
 into Italy. He knew, for instance, that notwithstanding 
 this French chivalry, faith had not been kept to the Flor- 
 entines, and the Pisans had been excited to rebellion 
 against them ; and he knew that the forts which had been 
 placed in their hands by the imprudence of Pietro de' 
 Medici, had not been restored to them according to prom- 
 ise. 'Inigo thought of all this, and La Motte's words 
 stung him to the quick, as he could not bear that the poor 
 Italians, betrayed and abused by the French, should at 
 the same time be branded by them as traitors, and over- 
 whelmed with abuse. lie was therefore about to give 
 him a piece of his mind ; but the Frenchman, aware that
 
 32 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 his words had created bad feelings, added : " You have 
 arrived from Spain only a little while ago, gentlemen, 
 and you do not know what a race of canaille the Italians 
 are. You have had nothing to do with Duke Lodovico, 
 or with the Pope, or with the Valentino, who first re- 
 ceived us with open arms, and then tried to plunge a 
 poniard into our backs. But at Fornovo they were 
 made to feel that a handful of men can outdo a host of 
 traitors ; and the Moro himself was the first caught in 
 his own web. The villain ! if he had nothing else to 
 answer for but the death of his nephew, would not this 
 be enough to uphold him as the most infamous of all 
 assassins ? " 
 
 " But," Correa said, " his nephew was sickly and half- 
 witted, and the common report is he died a natural death." 
 
 " Yes, as naturally as those who die of poison. You 
 may ask De Forses and De Guignes, who also quartered 
 with me at the castle of Pavia. I will tell you what I 
 have heard from the lips of Philippe de Comines, who 
 had it from the King himself. The King then went to 
 pay a visit to the unfortunate family of Galeazzo. The 
 Moro led him through dark corridors, into rooms low and 
 damp, looking over the trenches of the castle ; there he 
 found the Duke of Milan, with his wife Isabella and his 
 children. She threw herself at his knees, entreating him 
 in behalf of her father ; she did not dare to speak for 
 herself and her husband, because that traitor Moro was 
 present. The unfortunate Galeazzo lay pale and ex- 
 hausted ; he spoke very little, and seemed to be overcome, 
 bewildered by the immensity of his misfortune. The 
 poison, which killed him at last, was already working in 
 his veins. . . . And then take Cesare Borgia for another 
 instance ! where can you find a pair, the like of them ?
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 33 
 
 We know he has done things, which, if related, would 
 not be believed. Still many of his exploits are already 
 well known. Everybody knows he murdered his brother 
 to get possession of his honors and wealth ; everybody 
 knows how he became the master and lord of Romagna ; 
 everybody knows that he has murdered his brother-in- 
 law, poisoned cardinals, bishops, and many more who 
 were in his way." 
 
 Then turning to his French comrades with the counte- 
 nance of one who calls to mind a well-known fact, and 
 worthy of commiseration : " And the unfortunate Ginevra 
 of Montreale ? The handsomest, the purest, the most 
 lovely of all women I have ever seen ! These friends of 
 mine remember her ; we saw her on our passage through 
 Rome in 1492. But an evil destiny made her become 
 acquainted with Duke Valentino ; she had been wedded 
 to one of our soldiers, whom she married more through 
 obedience to her father than from love. She was seized 
 with a disease, the nature of which no one could under- 
 stand ; they applied every kind of remedy ; it was of no 
 use ; she died. However, a very remarkable accident 
 made me acquainted with a hellish plot which few have 
 known. Pier sickness was the effect of poison, adminis- 
 tered to her by Valentino, to punish her for her honesty. 
 Unfortunate girl ! Are not these crimes enough to draw 
 vengeance from Heaven ? " 
 
 Here the Frenchman paused, as if to remember some 
 circumstance which the lapse of time had dimmed in his 
 memory. 
 
 " O ! yes ; I am right ; this very day, as we were com- 
 ing to Barletta, I saw among your men one whose name 
 I cannot in fact recollect, but whom I remember to have 
 often met in Rome in those times. He is of a height 
 
 2*
 
 34 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 and of a countenance not so very easily forgotten ; he 
 was believed by every one to be the paramour of Ginev- 
 ra ; and after her death he disappeared, and no more was 
 heard of him. (Mais, oui, je suis sur que c'est le meme" 
 he added, turning to his companions.) " When about a 
 mile from the town, halting at the fountain to wait for the 
 men on foot, I saw that pale youth with auburn hair, and 
 I never saw a handsomer youth, and a more pensive 
 brow. . . . Yes, yes, it is he certainly ; but do not ask 
 me the name." 
 
 The Spaniards looked at each other, endeavoring to 
 guess at whom he meant. 
 
 One asked, " Was he an Italian ? " 
 
 " Yes, Italian. True, I did not hear him speak ; but a 
 companion who had dismounted and reached him a drink, 
 spoke to him in Italian." 
 
 " And his arms ? " 
 
 " It seems to me he had on a plain cuirass, with 
 a coat of mail ; and, if I am not mistaken, feathers and 
 scarf azure." 
 
 Inigo at once cried, " Ettore Fieramosca ! " 
 
 "That's it Fieramosca," answered La Motte; "I re- 
 member now Fieramosca. Well, this Fieramosca was 
 in love with Ginevra, as it was commonly reported ; and 
 many thought he had destroyed himself, as he was seen 
 no more after her death." 
 
 At this the Spaniards smiled, and remarked it was no 
 wonder that he was always melancholy, and he kept so 
 much to himself, and led a life so different from his com- 
 rades. But all praised his good nature, his valor and his 
 courteousness ; which was a good proof of how much he 
 was beloved and esteemed by the whole army. Above 
 the rest, Inigo was a particular friend of his ; and with a
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 35 
 
 noble soul, admiring without jealousy the noble qualities 
 of the Italian warrior, the more he knew him to be his 
 superior, the more he loved him, and spoke for him with 
 all that warmth of friendship of which a Spaniard's heart 
 is capable. 
 
 " You like his countenance ! and who should not ? but 
 what is beauty to a man ? If you knew the soul of that 
 youth ! the nobility, the greatness of that heart ! if you 
 knew what he has done, sword in hand, with that daring 
 valor which in many is allied to a kind of madness, but in 
 him is on the contrary ever united to a cool judgment ! 
 ... In my lifetime I have known many a brave'youth 
 both at the court of Spain and in France ; but I say to 
 you, on my honor, that I have never met, nor do I ex- 
 pect ever to meet, in one person, so many virtues as are 
 harbored in the breast of that Italian, who, por Dios, 
 possesses them all." 
 
 Fieramosca, being a great favorite with the army, all 
 wanted to put in a word, and express their sentiments in 
 his behalf; even old Segredo appeared as tender as the 
 rest on that subject, and said : 
 
 " It is true I never had much time to throw away with 
 women ; and I could never understand how a baron, 
 sheathed in a coat of mail, could ever worry after them ; 
 still, when I see that brave young man, always with low 
 spirits and sorrowful countenance, he gives rise in my 
 breast to such feelings as I cannot understand, and, por 
 Dios santo, I would truly give my best horse, (Pardo 
 excepted,) to see him once enjoying a hearty laugh." 
 
 " I always said that it was the effect of love," Azevedo 
 remarked. " When you see a young man with a pale 
 face, very little to say, and fond of solitude, you may be 
 sure some woman has a hand in it. It is true, however,"
 
 36 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 and here he smiled, " that sometimes a couple of 
 games at the zecchinetta, if the odds are against you, will 
 give a bitter taste to your mouth, and will make you a- 
 pale and downcast as ten petticoats will ; . . . but, no 
 matter ; it is a different affair altogether, and does not 
 last so long. As to Fieramosca, there is no danger of 
 that sort ; I never saw him handling cards. Xow I 
 understand the reason of his nocturnal rambles. You 
 know that my windows open over the Molo. I have 
 seen him more than once to take a boat alone late in the 
 night and row around the castle. ' A pleasant journey to 
 thee,' 1 would say as I was going to bed ; every one to his 
 own taste ; and I thought that he was in quest of some 
 love adventure ; but I could never imagine that he went 
 to sea to weep over the departed. I can scarcely believe 
 it ; a soldier like him to take after such nonsense ! " 
 
 " This proves," replied Inigo, " that a heart good and 
 affectionate can beat in a brave soldier's breast, and viva 
 Dios ! that on this point we must be just to Fieramosca, 
 and all the Italians who are under pay of the Colonnas ; 
 no one, who carries a sword at his belt and a lance in his 
 hand, can boast of wielding them better, or of being in 
 the least more brave than any of them." 
 
 To this eulogy, which was rendered with -the warmth 
 of a generous and truthful heart, the Spaniards responded 
 with words and signs of approbation, protesting that they 
 had opportunities to witness the bravery of the Italian 
 men-at-arms every day. But the three prisoners, who 
 began to feel heated with the conversation and with wine, 
 did not seem to agree with the rest. La Motte, moreover, 
 had a private grudge against Inigo, who had made him 
 the butt of his unsparing taunts during the whole even- 
 ing ; and he held every one inferior to himself, so incar-
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 37 
 
 nate was his self-esteem and vanity ! Hence he returned 
 only a look of pity and a forced smile to the assertions of 
 the Spaniard, whose face became flushed with rage, and 
 could scarcely control himself, when La Motte continued 
 thus : 
 
 " As to that, sir knight, neither I nor my companions 
 are of your opinion. We have been in the wars of Italy 
 for many years ; and, as I have told you, we have seen 
 more use made of poison and stilettoes than of swords or 
 lances, believe me. A French gens d'armes," and he 
 put on an air of great importance, " would be ashamed 
 to hire men for the work^of his_siable who were not 
 better than these Italians ; then imagine whether they 
 can stand any comparison with us." 
 
 " Hear, sir knight, and open your ears well," answered 
 Inigo, who could no longer contain himself, while listen- 
 ing to this man heaping insults on the heads of his friends, 
 and, moreover, seized with pleasure the opportunity of 
 venting his anger against him who had crippled his 
 horse, " had we here some of our Italians, and Fiera- 
 mosca above all, and were you not a prisoner of Diego 
 Garcia, but a free man, you might learn, before retiring 
 to your repose, that a man-at-arms from France would 
 have to use both hands to save his skin from an Italian ; 
 but as you are a prisoner, and here are only Spaniards, 
 I, as a friend of Fieramosca, and of the Italians, protest, 
 in their behalf, that you, or whoever says that they are 
 afraid, with arms in hand, to meet any one, and that 
 they are, as you have said, cowards and poltroons, utters 
 a villanous lie ; and I affirm that they will meet any 
 challenge, on foot or horseback, with all arms, or with 
 the sword alone, wherever, whenever, it may please the 
 challenger." 
 
 330930
 
 38 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 La Motte and his companions, as Inigo began to speak, 
 had given him an arrogant look ; but as he proceeded, 
 they gradually betrayed astonishment and anger, and 
 waited for the conclusion. If, in the midst of a mirthful 
 and noisy company words of blood and death are uttered, 
 all become silent, and are held in suspense to know how 
 the affair will end. So the clamor being stilled, the 
 Spaniards were anxiously waiting for the result of this 
 quarrel. 
 
 " We are prisoners," rejoined La Motte with a mod- 
 esty full of disdain ; " and we might not well accept a 
 challenge ; but, with the sanction of these men-at-arms 
 who have received our swords, and with a clear under- 
 standing that they will receive a just ransom, now in my 
 own name, and in that of my companions, and of the 
 whole French army, I do make this reply to you, and I 
 repeat what I have said long ago, and what I will ever 
 proclaim, everywhere, that the Italians are only fit to 
 plot-tceason, are worthless on the battle-field, and that 
 they are the meanest race that ever mounted a horse or 
 put on a cuirass. Whoever says I lie, lies himself, and I 
 will prove my assertion, sword in hand." 
 
 Then he took from his bosom a golden cross, kissed it, 
 and placed it on the table. " And may I have no hope in 
 this sign of our salvation, when my last hour shall come, 
 may I be proclaimed as a false knight, held unworthy to 
 wear golden spurs, if I and my companions do not an- 
 swer the challenge which the Italians through you have 
 sent to me; and with the help of God, of Our Lady, 
 and of St. Denis, who will certainly stand by us, we shall 
 show to the whole world how much difference there is 
 between the French soldiers and this rabble whom you 
 have undertaken to patronize."
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 39 
 
 " And be it so, in God's name," was Inigo's response. 
 Then lie also unbuttoned his jupon, and took from his 
 neck a medal of Our Lady of Monserrato, with which he 
 crossed himself, and placed it by La Motte's golden cross. 
 It is true he betrayed some mortification, because his 
 poverty did not allow him to show a battle-pledge equal 
 in value to that of La Motte, but overcoming that feeling, 
 he said boldly : 
 
 " There is my pledge Diego Garcia will take charge 
 of them in the name of Gonzalo, who will not refuse free 
 ground to our noble friends, or to the French knights 
 who will appear in the contest." 
 
 " jSot he ! " said Garcia, taking up the pledges. " Gon- 
 zalo will never hinder this brave people from trying their 
 swords and to prove themselves true knights. But you, 
 sir baron," turning to La Motte, " you will have 
 between your teeth a bone to pick much harder than you 
 imagine." 
 
 " (Test notre affaire" answered the Frenchman, with a 
 toss of the head and a smile ; " neither I nor my com- 
 panions will ever think that, to unhorse four Italians, for 
 the purpose of convincing this brave Spaniard of his 
 mistake, has been the most dangerous or noblest achieve- 
 ment of our lives." 
 
 Diego Garcia never felt in good spirits, and in his ele- 
 ment, but when he was either in the heat of a fight, or 
 there was a question of fighting. It is no wonder then, 
 that when he saw arrangements made for a challenge, 
 which would be fought and contested with all the fury 
 that national honor can inspire, he could scarcely keep in 
 his skin ; and raising his head and voice, and clapping 
 two hands which would have befitted Sampson's arms, 
 exclaimed :
 
 40 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 " Knight, your sentiments are such as only men of 
 honor and soldiers of your temper can speak, and I have 
 no doubt that deeds will not belie your words. Long may 
 the brave of all nations live ! " And saying so, he filled 
 his cup ; and as the noble soldier's pledge went around, 
 they all quaffed their goblets to the honor of the con- 
 querors to be. As the excitement subsided a little, Inigo 
 added : 
 
 " The insult you have offered to the Italian name, sir 
 knight, is such as will not be easily forgotten by my 
 friends, or that will end with the breaking of a lance, as 
 it were only the issue of a joust. I make no arrange- 
 ments now as to the number of combatants ; this will be 
 fixed upon by the two parties ; but whatever that may be, 
 I offer to you and to your companions battle with all 
 arms, and to the last blood, until every man be dead, or 
 made prisoner, or placed hors de combat. Do you accept 
 the terms ? " 
 
 "I do." 
 
 The conditions being accepted, and there being nothing 
 else to be done for the present in the matter, and it being 
 very late, they all felt the want of rest after the labor of 
 the day. They rose with one accord, and leaving the 
 tavern, disbanded and moved towards their quarters. 
 The French barons were taken under charge with due 
 honor, and lodged by those who had made them prison- 
 ers. But we feel warranted in asserting that, notwith- 
 standing the bravadoes with which they had affected to 
 express such low opinion of the Italians, a certain inward 
 feeling, and the experience they severally had in Italian 
 wars, made them feel that deeds more than words would 
 be required to make them come out of the meeting with 
 honor. And Inigo, however confident he felt in the valor
 
 ETTOKE FIERAMOSCA. 41 
 
 of his friends, and however assured that, for the name 
 of the Italian arms, they would stand against the whole 
 Avorld, still, taking into consideration that the other party 
 were warriors of well-proven skill, and the most tried 
 swords of the French army, he could not help feeling 
 great anxiety as to the end which that important affair 
 might come to. In fact, La Motte and his companions 
 were just the men to give a challenger the meeting he 
 desired. Their prowess was known to every man of arms 
 of those times ; and in the French ranks were many a 
 man not inferior to them in courage and training ; and the 
 famous Bayard, to mention no other, added great weight 
 to their side of the scales. 
 
 In spite of all these thoughts, the high-minded Span- 
 iard never regretted to have taken side with the Italians ; 
 and he felt that he would have never pardoned himself 
 had he allowed that impertinent captive to insult so wan- 
 tonly those who did not deserve the insult; were they 
 not Inigo's friends, and absent forsooth ? and, as he said 
 to himself, how can the man who fights for his country 
 be conquered ? Thus reassured in his heart, he deter- 
 mined to confer with Fieramosca in the morning, and to 
 take every measure in his power to arrange matters for 
 the honor of the party he had taken under his protection. 
 Full of these honorable thoughts, he waited, without 
 much sleep, for the hour he could set out to work.
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 THE fortress of Barletta, in which Gonzalo and sev- 
 eral superior officers of the army had their quarters, was 
 situated between the main piazza of the town and the 
 sea. The officers, both Spanish and Italian, with their 
 attendants and squires, were lodged in the houses of 
 private citizens in the immediate neighborhood of the 
 fortress. One of the best mansions had been appropri- 
 ated for the brothers Prospero and Fabrizio Colonna and 
 their splendid train of squires, servants, and horses, as it 
 was befitting their noble family. Ettore Fieramosca had 
 become endeared to them for his many beautiful traits of 
 character, and they held him in the place of a son, and 
 had assigned to him a small dwelling near the sea-shore, 
 where he was comfortably lodged with his attendants, 
 horse, and baggage. A room in the upper story, which 
 looked to the east, was his sleeping apartment. 
 
 It was the morning after the supper, at the first peep 
 of day, when a dim gray light scarcely defined the dark 
 boundary of the sea, young Fieramosca had left his bed, 
 on which he did not always enjoy easy slumbers, and had 
 gone to a terrace, the pillars of which were gently laved 
 by the waves moved by the light morning breeze. 
 
 Unhappy citizens of the north ! You cannot appreciate 
 the value of this hour under a beautiful southern sky, on 
 the sea-shore, when nature is yet buried in its slumbers,
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 43 
 
 and the stillness is scarcely broken by the subdued gurgle 
 of the billow, which, like the thought of man, has never 
 rested since its creation, and will not cease to move but 
 when it will cease to exist. Only he who has found him- 
 self alone at this hour, only he who has felt the last 
 beating of the soft wing of a morning bat in the opening 
 of the warm season on the charming coast of the Regno, 
 
 he alone well knows how great is the celestial beauty 
 of things created. 
 
 A palm-tree grew on the flank of the terrace. Seated 
 on the parapet, his shoulder leaning against the tree, and 
 supporting his knee with crossed hands, our youthful 
 knight enjoyed some moments of rest, and breathed that 
 pure air which is the harbinger of dawn. 
 
 Nature had bestowed upon him the precious gift of 
 a soul aspiring after whatever is fair, good, and noble. 
 Only one fault he had, if it may be called a fault he 
 was too buono. But, reared from his tender youth in the 
 profession of arms, he soon acquired knowledge of men 
 and things ; with a mind naturally correct, he readily 
 learnt within what limits goodness, should be kept, lest it 
 should degenerate into weakness ; and that sternness which 
 is oftentimes the result of a life exposed to continual 
 dangers, had become, in a heart like his, a just firmness, 
 
 the noble and precious virtue that always dwells in a 
 manly breast. 
 
 Fieramosca's father, a gentleman of Capua, of the 
 school of Braccio da Montone, had become old in the 
 wars which lacerated Italy in the fifteenth century, and 
 on his death bequeathed to his son only the legacy of a 
 sword ; and Ettore thought that the profession of arms 
 was the only one worthy of himself, and for many years 
 he really had no other aspirations but those of the times
 
 44 ETTORE FIEEAMOSCA. 
 
 in which he lived, when the strength of arms was em- 
 ployed only to enhance fame and wealth. 
 
 But as he grew in age, he also increased in wisdom ; 
 he always improved the brief intervals of respite he had 
 from the wars in study and reading, instead of wasting his 
 time in the chase, jousts, and other amusements indulged 
 in by the youth of those times. He became well ac- 
 quainted with the ancient writers, and with the honored 
 deeds of those who had shed their blood for their coun- 
 try's sake, not for the sake of those who paid best ! He 
 then felt that the profession of arms is in itself a nefari- 
 ous one, if it be undertaken on the principle of the out- 
 law, who fights only for the purpose of plundering his 
 fellow-man, and not for the noble and virtuous motive of 
 defending himself and his from foreign aggression. 
 
 When still a boy, he was obliged to follow his father 
 on an important mission to Naples. At the court of 
 Alfonso, he became acquainted with the famous Pontano, 
 who, being well pleased with the talents and handsome 
 appearance of the youth, became attached to him. He 
 admitted him into the academy, which, although estab- 
 lished by the Panormita, still went by the name of Pon- 
 tania,* and educated him with great care, receiving in 
 
 * Antony of Palermo, usually called Panormita, had established in 
 Naples a society of literary men, -which began to flourish about the 
 middle of the fifteenth century. Pontano succeeded the Panormita; 
 and the academy has ever since been known by the name of Ponta- 
 mana. The Panormita died in 1471, and Pontano in 1503, the year in 
 which the challenge of Barletta took place. Before his death he had 
 spurned at the honors offered to him by Louis XII., who was anxious 
 to reconquer the kingdom of Naples, while the Italians held out 
 against him, backed by the troops of Don Gonzalo de Cordova. In 
 the beginning of the sixteenth century the south of Italy was the 
 theatre of a struggle precisely of the same character as the one going 
 on now in Lombardy. The French were (hen the hated intruders,
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 45 
 
 return for his kindness that affectionate respect which is 
 the offspring of gratitude blended with admiration. 
 
 The eloquent appeals of the teacher kindled a fire of 
 love for his country and for Italian glory which could not 
 be smothered in a heart like Ettore's, and grew almost to 
 a degree of frenzy. He challenged a French gentleman, 
 his superior in age and strength, to fight with the sword, 
 because he had spoken of the Italians with disrespect, 
 wounded him, and made him retract his words, before the 
 King and his court. After leaving Naples, and after 
 many vicissitudes, he met with those adventures of love 
 of which we have had some hint from the conversation 
 of the French knight in the preceding chapter. 
 
 But when Charles VIII. had created so much disturb- 
 ance in Italy, and the French troops kept it either in 
 fetters or in continual fear, he felt the love of his country 
 burning more fervidly within his heart, as he witnessed 
 the overbearing conduct of those intruders, who acted as 
 if they were the lords of the country. He was indig- 
 nant at hearing the report of their insolence in their 
 passage through Lombardy, Tuscany, and other Italian 
 states ; and when he heard of the bold answer made by 
 Pier Capponi to the King, and how the latter had yielded, 
 his joy knew no bounds, and he praised the gallant Flor- 
 entine to the sky. 
 
 The royal family of Naples had been driven away. 
 Then Fieramosca thought it better to attach himself to 
 the Spanish cause, in order to check as much as possible 
 the too much increasing power of the other party, and 
 because he deemed Spanish self-conceit less unbearable 
 than the hollow French boasting ; moreover, he feared 
 
 whom the Italo-Spanish armies endeavored to drive out of the Penin- 
 sula. See Prescott's Ferdinand and Isabella, Part II. ch. x. xi. xii.
 
 46 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 less an enemy who could not approach Italy but by 
 sea ; and, lastly, he thought that if they could succeed in 
 driving the French away by means of the arms of the 
 Spaniards, it would not be so difficult to establish a 
 good government in Italy. 
 
 A few straggling stars were fast disappearing at the 
 approach of the eastern light. The sun had already 
 illumined the highest tops of the Gargano, imparting to 
 them a roseate color, which, in the shady recesses of the 
 mountain, changed into purple, whilst the beach, which was 
 shaped in the form of a half-moon, connecting with the 
 Barletta shore, displayed, at the light of the growing day, 
 a beautiful and varied assemblage of valleys and hills 
 which descended to bathe in the sea. The thicket of 
 chestnut-trees, already shining with the golden light of 
 the morning sun on the crest of the mountain, opened in 
 their descent either in grassy lawns of most beautiful 
 green, or in patches of cultivated land. At some point 
 stood prominent the whiteness of a rock, in others, the 
 flank of a high bluff appeared dyed with red or yellow, 
 according to the different quality of the soil. The sky- 
 colored sea underneath seemed motionless, but for the 
 incessant rolling of the tide against the rocks, thus con- 
 fining them with a belt of the whitest foam. 
 
 In the more interior part of the gulf, on a small island 
 connecting with the main land by a long and narrow 
 bridge, in the midst of palms and cypress-trees, was built 
 a monastery with a small church and belfry, all inclosed 
 within ^ a wall, indented with merlons and towers for a 
 protection against a first attack of pirates or Saracens. 
 
 Ettore seemed to gaze in that direction with an impas- 
 sioned look ; and straining his eyes, while the fog, which 
 at that time covered the low lands, scarcely allowed
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 47 
 
 him to distinguish the outlines of the building, he at- 
 tentively listened to the feeble sound of the bell which 
 tolled the morning Ave Maria, and was so much absorbed 
 that he did not hear Inigo, who was calling him from the 
 yard, and who, not receiving any answer, mounted the stairs. 
 
 " After a day like yesterday, I did not think you 
 would be up before the sun," said Inigo, advancing to 
 the terrace. 
 
 If you have ever been engrossed with a great and fiery 
 thought, you can well understand how far from pleasant it 
 must have been to Fieramosca to be caught in that mood 
 of mind, and to be obliged to give up his meditations. 
 He turned around with a countenance which betrayed 
 his feelings to such an extent that Inigo almost felt that 
 he was unwelcome. But Ettore's soul was too just and 
 affectionate to blame his friend for this involuntary in- 
 trusion. Without making a precise reply to the remark 
 of Inigo, he advanced to meet him, shook him by the 
 hand, and, having recovered himself entirely, said in per- 
 fectly good humor : 
 
 " What good wind has brought thee here at this hour ? " 
 
 " The best wind ; and I expect a guerdon for the news 
 I am going to give thee. This is the reason why I have 
 scarcely waited for daylight, and have hastened hither. 
 I have always envied thy valor ; to-day I envy thy good 
 luck. A happy man thou art, mine Ettore ! Heaven 
 has set apart for thee a feat of honor, which I am sure 
 thou wouldst have purchased at any price. Well, thou 
 hast it now before thee without expense or trouble. 
 Truly thou art born in good luck ! " 
 
 Fieramosca led his friend into the house, and having 
 seated him opposite to himself, was impatient to hear 
 about this great fortune. He was in a few words in-
 
 48 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 formed of what had taken place the evening before, how 
 he had taken up the Italian side, and of the intended 
 challenge. When he had repeated the insolent words of 
 La Motte, and we may be sure he knew how to repeat 
 them, the brave Italian jumped on his feet, striking his 
 clenched fist on the table, and with eyes darting a fierce 
 
 jy 
 
 "No, not yet," he cried, "is our misery come to this, 
 that we lack arms or swords to ram back into the throat 
 of this French thief what, in an unlucky hour for him, 
 has escaped from his mouth ! And may God bless thy 
 tongue, Inigo, my brother, (and he embraced him affec- 
 tionately) ; I shall be eternally thankful to thee for the 
 care thou hast taken of our honor, and, alive or dead, I 
 shall never forget it." There was no end to his expres- 
 sions of thanks, to the offers of his grateful heart, and 
 to the caresses he bestowed on his friend. As that first 
 impulse had subsided a little, 
 
 " Now," said Fieramosca, " it is time to act, not to talk." 
 He then called a servant ; and while the menial assisted 
 him in dressing, he went on mentioning the names of 
 those who might be chosen to answer the challenge, desir- 
 ous to have a band as large as possible. 
 
 " There are many good ones amongst us. But this is 
 an affair of too much importance. Let us name the best. 
 Brancaleone, yes, he is one. He has such a pair of 
 shoulders at his command that there is no fear that any 
 French lance will bend him an inch. Capoccio and 
 Giovenale ; these three are Romans ; and, I assure thee, 
 the Horaces were no better swordsmen. We have three 
 now. Let us see : Fanfulla da Lodi, that madcap, dost 
 thou know him ? (Inigo looked upward, knit his brows 
 a little, and pressed his lips, like one who is endeav-
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 49 
 
 oring to remember something.) O yes, thou certainly 
 k no west him ! That Lombard, one of the body-guard of 
 Signor Fabrizio that fellow who was seen the other 
 day galloping on the thick wall of the bastion near the 
 San Bacolo gate. . . ." 
 
 " O ! yes, indeed ! " answered Inigo ; " now I remem- 
 ber him." 
 
 " Very well ; he makes the fourth. As long as he can 
 hold on to his hands he will know how to use them. I 
 will be the fifth, and with God's help I shall do my duty. 
 Masuccio, ..." he hallooed, calling on his favorite 
 servant ; " look to the thong of the shield ; it was broken 
 yesterday; have it mended without delay; hear me; have 
 the broadsword and the pistolese dagger well sharpened, 
 and . . . what did I want to say ? . . . Ah ! is my 
 Spanish armor in good order ?" The servant nodded an 
 assent. 
 
 Inigo smiled at this flurry, and remarked, " Thou shalt 
 have plenty of time to get ready ; the battle will not take 
 place to-day, nor to-morrow either." 
 
 Fieramosca did not think of that ; he felt as if he had 
 the fever, and did not wish that the fight should be put 
 off any time ; and paying very little attention to what 
 the Spaniard was saying, he kept on thinking of other 
 champions, because he thought that five were rather a 
 small number. Then he said, with great emphasis, 
 
 " Why do we leave behind Romanello da Forli ? six ; 
 Lodovico Benavoli ; seven. Thou knowest them, Inigo ; 
 thou hast seen them at work ! " 
 
 " Masuccio ! Masuccio ! " 
 
 The servant who had gone down stairs, ran up again. 
 
 " Let my war-horse, Airone, the horse that Signor 
 Prospero gave to me, let him have straw and oats, as 
 
 3
 
 50 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 much as he wants ; and before it is too hot let him trot 
 around for an hour ; and look at his shoes." 
 
 These orders were given while Ettore was dressing. 
 After his attendant had put the cape on his shoulders, 
 and girded the sword to his side, he put on a hat with a 
 blue feather, and said to Inigo, ' 
 
 " I am ready to go with thee. Before everything else 
 we must talk the matter over with Signor Prospero, and 
 then we will ask Gonzalo for a pass." 
 
 Thus, as they went on their way, he kept on mention- 
 ing now one then another of the men-at-arms who might 
 give their names for the meeting. In fact he was not so 
 very easily satisfied at once ; he examined most closely 
 the condition, the power, the bravery, the life of every 
 one, as he wanted only tried men to enter the lists. He 
 thought of Brancaleone Eomano more than of any one 
 else ; he knew him to be a most honorable man, of great 
 heart, and wonderful strength of body ; he liked his 
 sedate ways, so different from the giddy cheerfulness of 
 his comrades, and he felt so much friendship for him, that 
 more than once he was on the point of disclosing to him 
 his adventures with Ginevra ; however, natural reserve, 
 and, perhaps, the want of an opportunity, had prevented 
 him from doing so. The family of Brancaleone, and in 
 fact all his ancestors, had always been of the Ghibellines, 
 and in Rome had adhered to the Colonna party ; and now 
 among the troops of Signor Fabrizio, he was at the head 
 of some body-guards, and paid close attention to this as 
 well as to any other affair connected with the war. He 
 was of middle height, broad shoulders, large chest, of not 
 many words, and strictly minding his own business ; he 
 was resolute, aye, obstinate, in following his own opinion ; 
 and as he had nothing more at heart in the world than
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 51 
 
 the increase of the triumph of the Colonna party, every 
 other object appeared to him not worthy thinking of; 
 hence he would have been willing to let himself be cut 
 into pieces, if thereby he could advance the interests of 
 his party. 
 
 Ettore and Inigo had to pass by his door on their way 
 to the Colonnas. They found him standing by the sta- 
 bles, and giving directions about some of his horses, with 
 his sword ungirded, the belt twisted around the hilt, 
 pointing to the squires and grooms, and giving orders 
 with the greatest economy of breath. Fieramosca in- 
 vited him to join company with them to arrange such 
 affairs, which, although told with the warmest terms, were 
 listened to by Brancaleone without the least emotion or 
 change of countenance. He only remarked, as he moved 
 along with them, 
 
 " Trying is belief even to the blind. Four thrusts in 
 tierce, after my fashion, and we'll talk it over." 
 
 This assurance of his was no bravado. He had more 
 than once fought in a camp, and always came out with 
 awarded honors.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 LA MOTTE'S words, overflowing with so much insult- 
 ing gall, and the ensuing challenge, had been heard by 
 more than twenty persons, and could not be kept secret ; 
 it was already in every soldier's mouth, and it was the 
 topic of conversation in every part of the city. When 
 Inigo and the two Italians had reached the doors of Pros- 
 pero Colonna, every man in waiting was discussing the 
 merits of the challenge ; and the flower of Italian youth 
 had flocked already around their chieftain to obtain from 
 him advice as to the manner in which they should act. 
 Every one of those named by Fieramosca were there al- 
 ready, and a great many more besides ; in a very short 
 time their number had swollen to fifty. Their words were 
 full of indignation and magnanimous, and their very man- 
 ner, their countenance, betrayed too well how much the 
 offered insult was felt in their hearts. Several of the 
 Spaniards, who had been at the supper the evening before, 
 and who had reported the scene to their Italian friends, 
 were there also, and mingled in the crowd, rehearsing 
 now one expression, then another, as they had been 
 uttered by Inigo or by the prisoners, and commented 
 upon them, setting out their views on the matter, quoting 
 authorities in parallel examples, thereby fanning a fire 
 which was already raging. 
 
 This crowd^ was scattered partly on the steps of the
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 53 
 
 main entrance, and in the front yard, or in a hall in the 
 lower story, where the Colonna brothers attended to the 
 affairs of the company, and gave audience to their men- 
 at-arms. The walls were all around decked with their 
 armors beautifully inlaid with gold, of the best chiselling, 
 polished and shining like mirrors. The standard of the 
 company was kept in this hall ; it bore a pillar on a field 
 red, with the motto, Columna flecti nescio. The same 
 arms were engraved on the shields, which were arranged 
 in graceful order, and covered almost all the four walls. 
 At the end of the hall two large wooden horses supported 
 complete furnitures with saddles, and housings of beau- 
 tiful crimson velvet, ornamented with the family coat-of- 
 arms, and the costly bridles richly decked with reins 
 embroidered in gold, as it befitted gentlemen so highly 
 honored. 
 
 On a rail stretched across a window were perched six 
 falcons with hoods on their heads, and tied to small 
 silver chains, with a quantity of implements for the 
 chase, which was so much indulged in by the aristocracy, 
 and which was considered as an amusement proper for 
 nobles and gentlemen. After a few moments Signer 
 Prospero Colonna presented himself at the door, and all 
 gave way to him and made obeisance. He advanced, 
 bowing to every one with a dignified affability, and took 
 a seat on a large elbow-chair covered with red leather, at 
 the head of a table placed in the centre of the hall, where 
 he kept his writing-desk, and beckoned to them all to be 
 seated. 
 
 He wore a cape of black chamois worked with ara- 
 besque. A heavy golden chain, to which was attached 
 a medallion of the same metal, both finely chiselled, hung 
 around his neck. He carried a small dagger which was
 
 54 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 stuck in a belt of black beaten steel. His admirable 
 bearing receiving relief from this simple dress, his 
 countenance pale and somewhat dark, a high forehead 
 which seemed to be the seat of firmness and of more than 
 ordinary wisdom, inspired every one with that reverence 
 which bespeaks a homage paid more to the qualities of 
 the soul than to favors of fortune or birth. His eye- 
 brows were bushy, his beard small and trimmed in the 
 Spanish fashion, the movements of his eyes slow and 
 guarded ; altogether you felt at once to be in the pres- 
 ence of a lord powerful and of great authority. 
 
 The present occasion appeared to him, and was, in fact, 
 one of very great importance, not only because the 
 honor of the Italian arms was at stake, but because, 
 moreover, the issue of this contest, in such circumstances, 
 when a war was carried on between two powerful mon- 
 archs with dubious fortune, might be fraught with serious 
 consequences to him, to his family, to the Colonna party. 
 To obtain victory in a challenge, which must attract 
 universal attention, would enhance the fame of his fol- 
 lowers and of his banner; hence whichever party should 
 happen to be victorious, the Spanish or French, they 
 would ultimately be more loath to give him offence, and 
 would feel greater anxiety to secure his friendship. 
 Moreover, whoever is conversant with Italian history 
 knows how obstinate the strife between the Colonna and 
 Orsini factions was in the Roman territory. Both parties 
 had been ill-used by the power and the frauds of Alex- 
 ander and of Cesare Borgia, and both, whether by foreign 
 aid, or by their own valor, with the help of some favor- 
 able opportunity, might obtain the ascendency ; conse- 
 quently, if there ever was a time when opportunity was 
 to be seized by the forelock, it was the present.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 55 
 
 That expert leader knew the ardent soul of Fiera- 
 mosca, and how powerful were in him the thirst of glory 
 and the love of his country. He had often seen how his 
 words had fired the hearts of his companions, and incited 
 them to prove themselves true Italians ; and he felt how 
 at the present moment he might encourage them with his 
 example, and with his words add fire to that divine ardor 
 which makes man equal to the noblest undertakings. 
 
 To him therefore he addressed himself when he began 
 to speak ; he said he had already been made acquainted 
 in part with what had taken place, but he wished to hear 
 him relate the whole affair in detail, that they might 
 quickly come to some conclusion. Ettore gave an ac- 
 count of the transaction, putting particular stress on the 
 language held by Inigo in favor of the Italian nation. 
 When he had done, Signer Prospero arose and spoke 
 thus : 
 
 " lllustri Signori ! Were you not what you are, and 
 had I not so many proofs of your valor through the 
 many battles we have fought together, I would deem it 
 necessary to recall to your minds how our ancestors 
 raised by their noble deeds the glory of their country so 
 high as to become the admiration of the whole world ; 
 the darkness and the misfortunes often centuries could not 
 dim the last rays of so much light. Those who now 
 come from the other side of the Alps to drink the blood 
 of the Italians, and, moreover, add insult to injury, then 
 trembled at the very mention of the Roman name. I 
 would call your attention to the fact that they have car- 
 ried their shameful insolence so far, that, after having 
 torn, by such arts as God alone can reckon, the glorious 
 crown which rendered Italy the queen of nations, and 
 had been gained at so great an expense of labor and
 
 56 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 blood, they still think that they have done nothing so 
 long as they see a sword in our hands and a coat of mail 
 on our breasts, and they even wish to deprive us of the 
 power of struggling and dying for the protection of our 
 honor. I would say to you : Up with you ; let us go, let 
 every one rush to arms ; let us fall upon these thieves 
 who have no regard for rights and justice ; and your 
 looks assure me that your swords would leap in advance 
 
 of my word But, still .... my office of 
 
 leader, which on this important occasion becomes to me a 
 real burden, enjoins upon me the duty of checking your 
 valor, and I feel constrained to inform you, that you can- 
 not all join in the combat, and I shall be obliged to limit 
 the glory of our vengeance to only a few swords. The 
 Magnifico Gonzalo has to uphold the rights of his Cath- 
 olic Majesty with unequal forces, and will not permit his 
 soldiers to shed their blood for distracting purposes. I 
 shall be able to obtain, I hope, a pass and free camp for 
 ten men-at-arms. To lose no time, I go ; and as soon as 
 I have obtained both, I will return to you. oSow, let 
 every one of you who will, write his name on a sheet of 
 paper ; let Gonzalo make the choice. But, before all, you 
 must swear that you will abide by his decision." 
 
 Colonna's address was received with marks of fervid 
 approbation, and all took the oath. The names were 
 written and given to Signer Prospero, who, rising from 
 his seat, went to the door, where two squires had a mule 
 in readiness for him. He mounted, and with only those 
 two attendants rode towards the citadel. 
 
 He returned after half an hour, which appeared as long 
 as an age to the impatient anxiety of those young war- 
 riors. Having dismounted, he entered the hall, and all 
 fell back to the seats they had occupied before. The
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 57 
 
 deep silence in the hall, and the expression of the eyes 
 riveted on the Roman baron, showed how anxious they 
 were to know the chosen ones, and how every one hoped 
 to be on the list. 
 
 " Magnifico Gonzalo" said Signor Prospero at last, 
 taking the papers from his bosom, and laying them on 
 the table, " has expressed himself very much pleased 
 with your virtuous resolution. He feels confident that 
 the undertaking will prove an easy task to your valor ; 
 he grants a pass and free camp for ten men-at-arms. I 
 had to work hard to prevail on him to grant such a num- 
 ber; and he allows it only in consideration of the im- 
 portance of the matter." 
 
 Then opening the paper which contained the names of 
 those who had been chosen, he read the following : 
 
 " Ettore Fieramosca." The youth hearing his name 
 called at the head of the list, pressed with joy the arm 
 of Brancaleone who sat near by him, while the eyes of 
 every one were turned towards him with such a look as 
 to say that they did not feel as if they could contend with 
 him for the first place. 
 
 " Romanello, from Forli. 
 
 "Ettore Giovenale, Roman. 
 
 " Marco Carellario, Neapolitan. 
 
 " Guglielmo Albimonte, Sicilian. 
 
 " Miale, from. Troia. 
 
 " Riccio, from Parma. 
 
 " Francesco Salamone, Sicilian. 
 
 " Brancaleone, Roman. 
 
 " Fanfulla, of Lodi." 
 
 Had any one been there, who did not know the men 
 whose names had been called, he could easily, by their look 
 of satisfaction, know of what temper were those who had 
 
 3*
 
 58 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 been destined to the noble deed. A delicate purple color 
 suffused the usually pale cheeks of Fieramosca, and 
 while he was talking, the auburn mustachio which veiled 
 his upper lip, could have been seen quivering, and be- 
 traying the deep emotions of his heart. At last he had 
 met with an object worthy of the thoughts which were 
 uppermost in his mind. Once at least, he thought, the 
 blood of Italians will flow for a better purpose than to be 
 continually fighting against foreign invaders. If some 
 spirit had whispered to his heart, " thy people will ob- 
 tain the victory, but thou shalt die in the struggle," he 
 would have been a thousand times happy ; but still there 
 was well-grounded hope, aye, even a certainty of gaining 
 a victory, and of living to enjoy it. Then he thought 
 how their return would be heralded with honor, and 
 feasted, and crowned with joy, how seldom it is that 
 a man can foretell the truth ! he thought of the 
 praises, of the everlasting glory with which Italy and his 
 name would be hymned, and how his dearest friends 
 would be proud of him. At this moment a feeling arose 
 from the inmost recesses of his heart, crossed his mind 
 like a cloud, and veiled for an instant the joy which 
 beamed in his countenance ; perhaps foregone miseries 
 made his heart feel the keen pang of ominous recollec- 
 tions ; but it was only for a moment. Could he then 
 have anything more at heart than the arrangements of 
 the battle ? 
 
 Gonzalo had appointed Prospero Colonna marshal of 
 the lists. Then the duty of sending the challenge de- 
 volved upon him ; moreover it would become his part to 
 place his men on their horses, to see that there should be 
 nothing wanting that might secure the victory, and to be 
 sure that the contest would be carried on according to 
 just and proper rules.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 59 
 
 The first points to be decided were the day and the 
 place. It was then the first of. the month ; it was deter- 
 mined that the combat should take place after the middle, 
 so as to give time for necessary preparations. As to the 
 place, competent men would be detailed to select the 
 most suitable one. 
 
 The next business was to write the challenge, which 
 was done in the French language, and given to Fiera- 
 mosca and Brancaleone, to be carried to the. French camp 
 the same day. After everything was thus arranged, Sig- 
 nor Prospero addressed himself to the ten champions, and 
 spoke thus : 
 
 " Your honor, knights, stands on the blades of your 
 swords, and I cannot imagine a better or surer place for 
 it. For this very reason it becomes necessary that you 
 should pledge yourselves solemnly, that from this day to 
 that of the fight you will not enter upon any adventure, 
 and thus avoid any danger of being wounded, or of meet- 
 ing with any accident, that might prevent you from being 
 on your horses that day ; and you know very well, 
 that if such thing should occur, no matter how it hap- 
 pened, great blame would be attached to our party." 
 They all thought it was but right to take the precaution, 
 and none of them hesitated to accept the proposed condi- 
 tion under oath. 
 
 In the mean time those who saw, with great chagrin, 
 that there was nothing for them to do there, had left the 
 hall one after another. Only the ten had remained. And 
 they also went their way, after the cartel -had been con- 
 signed to Fieramosca's hands. Then he, too, with Bran- 
 caleone, went home, to be soon ready on their horse?, 
 and start for the French camp. 
 
 They put on a light armor, a coat of mail, with sleeves,
 
 60 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 and a steel cap, and, preceded by a trumpeter, they rode 
 towards San Bacolo's gate, which led to the French en- 
 campment. At their approach the portcullis was raised 
 and the drawbridge lowered, and they entered a part of 
 the suburbs which had been abandoned by the inhabitants, 
 and which had been burnt and half destroyed by the 
 recklessness of both armies. Having traversed the sub- 
 urbs, they had to cross some gardens, whence the road 
 opened into a highway leading to the camp, which they 
 might reach in a few hours' travel. In the suburbs Ettore 
 fell in with some women scantily covered with rags, either 
 leading their half-starved children by the hand, or carry- 
 ing them on their shoulders, searching in those dilapi- 
 dated buildings for any remnant of food that might have 
 escaped the gluttony of the soldiers who had sacked the 
 place ; their appearance made the heart of the youth 
 bleed ; and not having wherewith to help them, he could 
 not even bear the sight, and so spurred his horse into a 
 brisk trot, and gained the open road. 
 
 This incident, trivial as it may appear, threw a gloom 
 over the buoyant spirits of Ettore; and the intense 
 joy which he felt at the approach of the battle was 
 turned into equal sadness ; he felt more keenly grieved 
 at the miseries of Italy ; and his hatred for the French, 
 who were the cause of them, received a new impulse. 
 He could not help expressing to Brancaleone, who rode 
 by him, how pained he felt at the sufferings of these 
 wretched women ; and his friend, who was naturally a 
 charitable fellow, although a life continually exposed to 
 danger and in the midst of deeds of blood had given him 
 the appearance of a hardened man, felt pity for them, 
 and sympathized with Ettore over their sufferings. 
 
 Fieramosca, perceiving his softened temper, remarked, 
 with a shake of the head :
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 61 
 
 " These are the fair gifts we receive at the hands of 
 the French ; this is the happy state of things brought 
 on by them ! . . . But if 1 can once see this vile 
 set on the other side of the Alps " . . . And he 
 meant to add, we will try to get rid of the Spanish 
 also ; but he remembered that he was in their pay, and, 
 so breaking off suddenly, he ended with a sigh. 
 
 Brancaleone thought more of the Colonna party than 
 of the welfare of his country, and could not fully appre- 
 ciate the feelings of his friend ; but sympathizing with 
 them to a certain extent, in his own way, he answered : 
 
 " If we could succeed in routing this army, it would 
 not be long, perhaps, before we could taste Signer Vir- 
 ginio Orsino's good wines ; and the cellars of Bracciano 
 would at last be cheered by a Christian's face ; and the 
 smoke from the camp of his knaves would no more be 
 seen near Palestrina, Marino, and Valmontone ; and the 
 denizens of those places would not be so often roused by 
 that accursed war-cry : Orso ! Orso ! but . . . pay- 
 day does not come every Saturday ! " 
 
 From this answer Ettore perceived that although his 
 friend joined in the wishes of his own heart, still he was 
 very far from agreeing with him in his own motives, and 
 he said no more. They went on for a time without ut- 
 tering a word on either side. 
 
 The trumpeter preceded them at the distance of a 
 bow-shot. 
 
 Our reader will remember the hints thrown out by the 
 French knight about the love-affairs of Fieramosca. It 
 was the first time his companions had heard of it, and 
 they felt sorry at his disappointments, both because they 
 all loved him, and because a young man who does not con- 
 tribute to keep up and increase the good humor of the
 
 62 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 mess to which he belong?, is apt to become a kind of eye- 
 sore to the company. Now while in the morning of this 
 day the affairs of the challenge were discussed in the 
 house of Signer Prospero, there were also some remarks 
 made in connection with these adventures, and Brnnca- 
 leone heard them. In truth, Brancaleone was very little 
 curious about other people's business, but after they had 
 ridden for some time in silence, perceiving that his com- 
 panion was in so melancholy a mood, he felt pained, and 
 overcoming his natural reluctance, he resolved to try 
 whether he could succeed in making him disclose the 
 cause of his silence ; and with an expression of affection- 
 ate anxiety, he questioned him as to the cause of his 
 being so pensive. And he did it with so much tact that 
 he gained his purpose. Fieramosca, on the other hand, 
 well knew how entirely he could trust his friend ; besides, 
 the misery which he felt loosened his tongue, since it 
 becomes very easy for a heart torn with keen passions 
 to reveal a secret. Mildly raising his eyes to his 
 friend's countenance, he began thus : 
 
 "Brancaleone, you ask to know that which I have 
 never told a living soul ; and I would not tell even you 
 (be not displeased with me) did I not think that I 
 might fall in the battle . . . and then ? . . . what would 
 become of ... yes, yes, thou art a true friend to me, 
 thou art a just man, thou shalt know all. Tire not in 
 hearing me at length, because I could not narrate so 
 many and strange adventures in a few words." 
 
 Brancaleone, with a countenance which bespoke the 
 great interest he felt in the conversation, encouraged his 
 friend so that Fieramosca, resolutely repressing a sigh 
 from the heart, continued ; 
 
 " You well know that when we first heard of the
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 63 
 
 probability of a war from the Most Christian king, who 
 intended to make a descent on the kingdom, I was a 
 youth only sixteen years old, and was in the service of 
 the Moro. I took leave of him, and felt it my duty to 
 employ my life in the defence of the princes of Raona, 
 who had been our rulers for so many years. I went to 
 Capua ; they were levying troops, and I was hired and 
 ordered to the ramparts of the city by Count Bosio of 
 Monreale, who had the command of the garrison. The 
 ammunitions were all in ; and there being nothing else 
 to do for the present, we enjoyed ourselves for some time. 
 Every evening we met at the quarters of the Count, who, 
 having been a great friend of my father, held me in place 
 of a son. Even before I was conducted by the Duke of 
 Milan, it had been my wont to resort to the house of the 
 Count ; and there I became acquainted with a young 
 daughter of his ; and, children as we were, without under- 
 standing ourselves, we loved each other wonderfully. 
 When the day arrived that I was to march toward Lom- 
 bardy, the crying and adieus were beyond imagination. 
 I remember it well, I rode a jennet, the best I ever had, 
 and on my way out of the town, I passed under the win- 
 dows of Ginevra (such was her name), -and managing 
 my horse with great gallantry, I saluted her with my 
 hands ; as it was just the peep of day, without her father 
 or anybody else perceiving it, she threw to me a blue 
 scarf, with which I have never since parted. 
 
 " But all this was mere play. During a whole year of 
 my absence, my affection for her had not much abated. 
 As I am going to tell you, when I returned, and again 
 saw Ginevra, who by this time was full grown, the hand- 
 somest lady of the realm, a good scholar, and so fine u 
 player on the Iflte that there never was any better ; I
 
 64 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 could not prevent myself from falling desperately in love 
 with her. She well remembered the days of my boy- 
 hood ; and seeing me now honored, and enjoying some 
 fame among men-at-arms, although, prudent as she was, 
 she did not wish to betray her feeling?, still I perceived 
 too well that she loved to hear me tell of the places of 
 Lombardy, of the battles in which I had been, and of the 
 courts and manners of that country ; and, on my faith, if 
 it was pleasing for her to listen to me, it was a hundred 
 times more pleasant for me to entertain her. Things 
 went so far that we could not live apart from one an- 
 other. 
 
 " I began to see plainly what turn things were likely 
 to take, and seriously thought of the troubles which we 
 should encounter. We were on the eve of a war ; woe 
 to him who is embarrassed with ties of love at such times ! 
 And as formerly I had improved every opportunity of 
 being in her company, so now, resolving upon what I 
 thought would prove the best for both, and being satisfied 
 that our affection was not children's play, I summoned 
 resolution enough to avoid any show of love, and indeed 
 tried to banish it from my heart. Things went on thus 
 for a long time. But that struggle increased my love 
 instead of lessening it ; and while I endeavored to check 
 it in my exterior manners, it went on working within, 
 and almost led me astray. My countenance had lost its 
 cheerfulness, and at night, no matter how fatigued I 
 might be, I could not sleep, and with my imagination 
 continually fixed on her, I felt warm tears coursing down 
 my cheeks upon the pillow, and I had become a riddle 
 to myself. 
 
 " We went on in this manner for several weeks, and 
 I was in such a state, that it became necessary to take
 
 KTTORE FIERAMOSCA. G5 
 
 some resolution. You guess already what the resolution 
 was. One evening about sunset, it chanced that I met 
 her alone in the garden. I told her of my great affec- 
 tion, but she blushed, and without uttering one single 
 word, left me there in great sadness and in a condition 
 worse than ever. From that day forward she seemed to 
 keep at a distance from me, and scarcely, if ever, spoke 
 to me in the presence of others ; I could not endure that, 
 and almost despairing under the weight of my disap- 
 pointment, I made up my mind to go away and seek 
 death where there was fighting. Just aj that time the 
 company of the Duke of San Nicandro was passing on 
 their march to Rome to join the Duke of Calabria, and 
 I made my arrangements to go with them. So, without 
 telling her of my plans, I tried my luck once more, but 
 she held out in the same manner. I was' then obliged to 
 believe that what I fancied was love on her part was only 
 a dream of my imagination. I made up my mind alto- 
 gether ; it was in the evening, the Duke's company had 
 halted in the city, and were to march the following morn- 
 ing ; I made every arrangement to be on my horse next 
 day. As usual, I went to spend the evening with Gi- 
 nevra's father ; we three only, were there, and sat playing 
 at a table ; and when the fit moment arrived I informed 
 him that I had made every arrangement to leave on the 
 morrow ; that, being tired of that idle life, I wished to 
 take part in the wars, and begged of him to allow me 
 to go. While the Count was praising my resolution, I 
 kept a corner of my eye on Ginevra, to see how she 
 would receive the information, having still some hope in 
 my heart. Think how I felt when I saw the color of her 
 face to change, and her eyes redden ! She shot towards 
 me a stealthy look which spoke a deal to me. I felt some
 
 66 ETTORE FIEKAMOSCA. 
 
 doubt as to giving up the march, but I knew that I could 
 not do so with honor ; and I was obliged, just when I felt 
 myself to be the most contented and the happiest mortal, 
 to carry out my unlucky resolution ; hence all my mis- 
 fortunes. 
 
 " Would to heaven I had dropped dead when I first 
 put my foot in the stirrup ! it would have been far less 
 evil for both of us. 
 
 " I went to Rome, ever cursing my fate, and I just 
 arrived when King Charles entered at one gate, and our 
 men were beating a retreat at a furious rate through the 
 other. A few light skirmishes took place, and I advanced 
 so far in the midst of some Swiss, that I was left for dead, 
 with two deep wounds inflicted on my head with spon- 
 toons. I lay ill of those wounds for a long time. 
 
 " I had received those wounds near Velletri ; I was 
 carried into town, and there I remained two months with- 
 out ever hearing of Ginevra or of her father, and only 
 from time to time very sad reports of the state of the 
 kingdom reached us, always with additions made by the 
 people of the house to make them appear worse, and 
 with so much of their own inventions added to them, that 
 I could learn nothing with any degree of certainty. 
 
 " But at last I began to recover, and, anxious to get 
 out of so much misery, one morning I mounted horse, and 
 rode to Rome. Everything was in an uproar of con- 
 fusion there. Pope Alexander had not shown very great 
 friendship to the King on his passage. But the affairs of 
 the kingdom were almost ruined, and an alliance between 
 Moro and the Venetians being on the tapis, the French 
 would consequently be forced to retrace their steps ; 
 hence he was very much alarmed, and strengthened 
 Rome and the castle in the best way he could. As soon
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 67 
 
 as I alighted I went to pay my respects to Monseigneur 
 Capece, who received me with great kindness, and would 
 by no means allow me to remain in a public house. 
 
 " Meantime the tumult in Rome was on the increase, 
 the King's vanguard, composed of the Swiss, was shortly 
 expected, and the citizens were exceedingly affrighted, 
 anxiously looking after their own safety. 
 
 "At last the army appeared. Alexander and Duke 
 Valentino had fled to Orvieto. The French troops were 
 quartered partly in the city and partly on the Prati ; * 
 they behaved exceedingly well towards the citizens, so 
 that all began to feel reassured. After a few days the 
 King started for Tuscany ; but still some of his leaders 
 kept passing through Rome at intervals, avoiding thereby 
 difficulty in obtaining provisions. Fears had almost 
 ceased, and business was going on as usual. As I had 
 no peace in thinking of Ginevra, as soon as I could do it 
 with decency, I took leave of Monseigneur Capece to re- 
 turn home, that I might obtain some reliable information ; 
 because even to that hour I had never met a person who 
 knew aught of her. 
 
 " So one morning I started before daybreak, with the 
 intention of riding to Citcrna before night, and from Via 
 Julia, where Monseigneur lived, I entered Piazza Farnese, 
 taking the way to San Giovanni's gate. At the Coliseum 
 I met a squad of Frenchmen with baggage ; and as I 
 came nearer to them, I saw that they were carrying a 
 litter with one of their captains on it ; he seemed to 
 be in a bad plight, as the bandage around the temples 
 showed clearly that he must have received a wound in 
 the head. After turning the horse one side to keep out 
 
 * A large tract of meadow land near Castle Sant' Angelo, and be- 
 tween the Tiber and Monte Mario.
 
 08 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 of their way, I reined in to look at the man, and was 
 startled by a piercing cry, when, looking in the direction 
 of it, I saw Ginevra on horseback, riding with the party 
 on the other side. But, oh God ! how changed she was ! 
 It was a wonder I did not fall ; my heart felt as if it 
 might burst under the cuirass. Still, having some mis- 
 givings as to the real state of affairs, I feigned to go on 
 my way, but after a while I wheeled around, and never 
 losing sight of them, I followed the train to their quarters, 
 with the worst fears in my own mind. 
 
 " You can well imagine I did not dare to make my ap- 
 pearance at Monseigneur's house, who, by that time, must 
 think I was many miles off, and much less I dared to ap- 
 pear before Ginevra, lest I should hear from her what I 
 could never bear to listen to ; and yet, in my anxiety to 
 clear up matters, I did not know what to do. Borne by 
 the horse, who was still bent on going back to the stables 
 of Monseigneur, I found myself in Banchi by the Chia- 
 vica, and near the shop of one Franciotto della Barca, so 
 called from his trade, which was to transship merchandise 
 from Ostia to Ripa Grande. He was an intimate friend 
 of mine, and he advanced to meet me. I dismounted, 
 and having led him aside, I told him that for some par- 
 ticular reason I had taken leave of Monseigneur, and it 
 was necessary I should keep in the dark ; at this he 
 offered me a cottage he had in Borgo, and carried me 
 there immediately. Then I made up my mind to tell 
 him that I had seen a damsel, with whose family I was 
 well acquainted, in company with a party of the French ; 
 and that I was anxious to know how she had fallen into 
 their hands, in order to fly to her rescue, if necessary ; 
 and after having pointed to him the place where she had 
 alighted, I begged of him to try to speak to some of the
 
 ETTORE FIEKAMOSCA. 69 
 
 menials, and to arrange matters so that, without being 
 discovered, I might obtain some information. He was a 
 cunning fellow, and well knew how to comply with my 
 request. After sundown he came for me, and brought 
 me to a tavern, where we found a clerk of his, who had 
 already enticed one of the squires of that French baron, 
 and pledging him freely in the cup, he made him tell the 
 story, and we arrived there just in time to hear its par- 
 ticulars. 
 
 " Franciotto very easily made him reveal what I would 
 never have wished to hear. He said, that as they ap- 
 proached Capua, they met with a desperate resistance ; 
 had to storm the place, which was almost entirely sacked ; 
 his master Claudio Graiano d'Asti (this, he said, was his 
 name) entered the house of the Count of Monreale with 
 a band of soldiers ; the Count had been wounded in the 
 assault, had been carried home, and could not defend him- 
 self any further; Graiano, on entering the sick man's 
 chamber, was met by his daughter, who on her knees 
 pleaded for her father and for herself. Graiano looked 
 churlish, and rather bent on evil ; but the Count, rising on 
 his elbow as well as he could, said to him : ' Take to your- 
 self whatever I have in this world, and take this daughter 
 of mine for your wife ; but protect her honor against the 
 hands of these men.' And Ginevra, fearing for the life 
 of her father and for herself, could offer no resistance. 
 Two days after the Count died. 
 
 " I bit my hands, thinking that had I been there, she 
 would not perhaps have fallen in that ribald's hands ; but 
 there was no help. I left the place, and wandered about 
 the city the whole night like a madman ; and more than 
 once I was about to put an end to my life. It was only 
 the mercy of God that kept me from doing so. The
 
 70 ETTOHK FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 grief, the fluttering of the heart, were such that my words 
 could not give even a faint idea of ray sufferings, and I 
 felt such oppressive sensations in the chest that I thought 
 I should be choked ; and unable to endure a life so pain- 
 ful and so harrassed, I had the strangest thoughts and 
 formed the most insane resolutions in the world. At 
 times I resolved to kill the husband, then to meet death 
 in some extraordinary way so that Ginevra might know 
 that I had come to that for her sake ; and I felt a relief 
 in the idea that it would pain her ; and while passing 
 from one exciting idea to another I felt as if I were los- 
 ing my mind. I went on in this way for several days, 
 until one evening I resolved to try my fortune. Muffled in 
 my cape, disguised as much as I could, and with the hood 
 drawn over my eyes, I went to the door of her house and 
 knocked. A servant-maid appeared at the window and 
 asked whom I wished to see. ' Say to the lady,' I answer- 
 ed, that a gentleman just arrived from Naples wishes to 
 speak to her ; he has news from her family.' I was let 
 in, and led to a small room in the lower story, where a 
 very faint light flickered from a small lamp. I was in 
 such a state, that for awhile I felt as if I were at the 
 entrance of heaven, and then as if I were at the very 
 gates of hell ; and the inward struggle was so violent, that 
 I felt faint, and sank into a chair. I was kept wait- 
 ing only a few minutes, which appeared to me like ages. 
 When I heard the tread of Ginevra's feet coming down 
 stairs, and the rustling of her gown, it seemed as if my 
 vital spirits forsook me. She entered and remained at a 
 little distance, looking at me ; and, can you believe it, I 
 remained there rivetted to the spot. I could not speak, 
 not even make a sign ; but as soon as she had recognized 
 me, she uttered a cry and fell senseless on the floor. Her
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 71 
 
 cry and fall brought me to my senses ; I lifted her up, and 
 endeavored to assist her in the best manner I could, fright- 
 ened as I was at the danger of the situation, and greatly 
 alarmed lest I should be found there alone. I sprinkled 
 her face with water from a cooling vase near by. But I 
 believe the scalding tears which fell from my eyes and 
 covered her cheeks had more virtue than the water, and 
 recalled her to consciousness. 1 could do nothing else 
 but take her hand and impress on it a kiss so fervid that 
 I felt as if I would give my very soul for her deliverance. 
 We remained thus for a few minutes ; at last, trembling 
 all over, she said : ' Ettore, if thou knewest all my sor- 
 rows ! . . .' 
 
 " ' I know them, alas ! I know all ; but I ask for no other 
 privilege than that of seeing thee occasionally while this 
 life of mine will last.' 
 
 " In that moment a noise was heard as if of some per- 
 son moving over our heads ; my blood ran cold in my 
 veins for the fear of being found there, and of becoming 
 a source of new sorrows to her. I took leave of her, not 
 so much by words as by the very act of departing, hur- 
 ried away from the room, and left the house less sad and 
 with some feelings of hope. 
 
 " Meantime her husband was still suffering from his 
 wound, and he was daily visited by many of the French 
 gentlemen and prelates. In spite of the intense inward 
 sufferings betrayed in Ginevra's features, there was so 
 much expression and sentiment in her admirable counte- 
 nance, which was always very handsome, that, tinted as it 
 now was with a languid paleness, it was impossible to look 
 at her and not be impressed by it. Her youth, her man- 
 ners, and angelic features were much admired by these 
 noblemen and had become the general topic of their con-
 
 72 KTTOKK FJEUAMOSCA. 
 
 versation, so that even Valentino heard of it. Strange ru- 
 mors were afloat about the Duke in Rome at that time. 
 Scarcely one month had elapsed since his brother, the Duke 
 of Candia, had been murdered at night in the streets, and 
 he was charged with the deed ; then of a sudden he threw 
 the purple aside and took up the profession of arms en- 
 tirely ; and the general accounts of his life were so extrav- 
 agant, that people did not know what to think of him. 
 I at once began to fear lest the man should put his eyes 
 on Ginevra. Unfortunately, I heard many disrespectful 
 expressions among the populace, which my great rever- 
 ence for her made me feel keenly at heart, but I was 
 forced to keep down my resentment, lest I should reveal 
 my condition. 
 
 " Under some pretext or other, I had, by this time, gained 
 admission to her home, and had been introduced to that 
 husband of hers ; and although it was a sore trial to see 
 him, still I would have suffered that and a hundredfold 
 more for the privilege of seeing her from time to time. 
 However, except in that first interview of ours in the 
 garden, I never spoke to her of my affection. I knew 
 her too well, and I knew that I should have wasted my 
 breath. 
 
 " This Graiano d'Asti was of that sort of men whom 
 you meet by the dozen at every corner of the streets, 
 neither handsome nor ugly, good or bad ; an excellent 
 soldier, it is true ; but he would have served the Turk 
 provided he gave him the best pay. Ginevra' s wealth 
 had made him very rich ; and he set on her the same 
 value he would on a farm, namely, at the rate of the 
 income. 
 
 " Many weeks had rolled by. I could see Ginevra at 
 night, because her husband had not the least suspicion of
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 73 
 
 me. He was suffering very much from his wounds, which 
 it took long to heal, and not having much practice in love 
 affairs, he had very different thoughts in his head ; hence 
 I was in her company more than before. 
 
 " Meantime Valentino, busy in levying troops previous 
 to his descent upon Romagna, made offers to Graiano 
 d'Asti, who had by this time recovered so far as to be 
 able to be on a saddle again. I was informed of the 
 Duke's proposal to Graiano, and they came to terms at 
 once. They agreed upon a squad of twenty-five lances, 
 and Ginevra's husband thought he had the best of the 
 bargain. 
 
 " One evening the Duke came to Graiano's to sign the 
 contract, and they had a little supper, with the company 
 of several French prelates, and some lances, out of ser- 
 vice, intending to take pay under him who at that time 
 was willing to hire anybody. 
 
 " I had some thoughts of em-oiling in order to follow Gi- 
 nevra's fortunes with those of Graiano, still I cannot say 
 how it happened that I took no steps in the matter, and I 
 did not even go to the house that evening. I went wan- 
 dering through the most solitary places of the city, it 
 being already late at night, with my mind a prey to the 
 most distracting suspicions, neither could I get rid of cer- 
 tain presentiments, the most unaccountable I ever had. 
 For many days past I had noticed Ginevra looking worse 
 than usual, and now and then it seemed to me as if there 
 was a cloud on her brow, a mystery which she endeavored 
 to keep buried in her heart. I lived that night out, God 
 only knows in what torments. But listen, now, and 
 judge for thyself whether the heart does not sometimes 
 foretell events in truth. 
 
 " Next day I go to her house towards evening. As I 
 4
 
 74 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 approach the door, I hear an unusual bustle inside ; a 
 monk from Araceli, who had been ministering to her, is 
 coming out, preceded by a light. I rush into the house 
 a cold perspiration seizes me ! and the maid says, 
 ' My lady is in her last moments.' 
 
 " On the evening previous, she had swooned after sup- 
 per, but they did not feel much alarmed about it. She 
 was laid down on the bed, was wrapped in warm clothes, 
 and becoming more easy she remained so until morning. 
 The sun was already high, and she had not moved. One 
 Maestro Jacopo da Montebuono, who dabbled in medicine, 
 was then called in, and he found her almost stiff with cold. 
 That wretch, instead of having recourse to the most pow- 
 erful remedies, only gave an opinion at random, enjoining 
 that she should be kept very quiet. But returning at a 
 late hour, he was frightened, and crying that she was past 
 all hopes, hurried a messenger after a priest, and without 
 knowing how to help her and conquer that inexplicable 
 sickness, shortly after the Ave Maria, the doctor himself 
 informed the distressed family that she was dead." 
 
 Here they came in sight of the French camp, and Et- 
 tore was forced to interrupt the narrative. The herald 
 advanced winding his trumpet, and was met by a man on 
 horseback asking what was the object of his errand. 
 
 As he became acquainted with the motive of their jour- 
 ney, he reported to the officer on guard, who, in his turn, 
 as he saw Gonzalo's letter to the Duke of Nemours who 
 commanded the troops, ordered Brancaleone and Fiera- 
 mosca to halt there, until leave had been obtained from 
 the Duke for their entering the camp. 
 
 He offered them a hut which served for shelter to the 
 guards of the post ; but our two friends, learning that the 
 captain's lodgings were at some distance yet, determined
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 75 
 
 to stop where they were, until the messenger had returned 
 with an answer. 
 
 Near by, under a clump of oaks, was a fresh green 
 sward, which, protected by the boughs of the trees, 
 afforded a delicious resting-place in those burning hours 
 of noon. The two warriors repaired to that spot ; and 
 having tied the horses to the trees, they unhelmeted their 
 heads and sat down near each other, leaning their should- 
 ers against the trunks. A light breeze cooled their brows, 
 so one resumed his narrative with more spirit, and the 
 other listened with even heightened curiosity.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 FIERAXIOSCA continued his story in these words : 
 " Having lost Ginevra, I felt as if it were all over with 
 me. I left that house with my eyes so stupefied that I 
 could not shed a tear ; and in fact, but for that which 
 took place afterwards I could not now tell whither I went 
 and what became of me in those first moments. I roamed 
 like a mad man, feeling like one who is dealt a two- 
 handed blow from a spiked club on the helmet, a whiz- 
 zing in the ears at first, after which everything seems to 
 spin round. Thus unconscious of what had happened, I 
 passed the bridge (Ginevra's house Avas near Torre di 
 Nona), and taking the way up Borgo I went to San 
 Pietro's piazza. 
 
 " That most faithful friend of mine, Franciotto, having 
 heard in part of my misfortune, went out to look for me, 
 and found me on the stones near one of the columns ; 
 how it happened to me to be there I could not say. I felt 
 two arms, which, lifting me up by the shoulders, made 
 me sit up. I started then and saw him by my side. He 
 began to comfort me with words full of affection, and then 
 I began by degrees to recover consciousness. He helped 
 me up, and with much labor led me home, where he 
 undressed me, and put me to bed, and sat at the head 
 of it, without annoying me with Avords of comfort which 
 would have been entirely out of place.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 77 
 
 " We spent that night without a word on either side. 
 I was seized with a violent fever which at times made 
 me quite delirious ; and my excited imagination made me 
 feel as if a huge figure clothed in heavy armor were 
 bearing all its weight on my breast, and squeezing the 
 breath out of me. 
 
 " At last a flood of tears came to the relief of afflicted 
 nature. The clock from the castle sounded the hour of ten, 
 and the first dawn peeped through the fissures of the win- 
 dows. Hanging on the wall over my head was my sword, 
 and twisted around it the blue scarf which Ginevra had 
 given me many years ago. The sight of it, acting like the 
 shaft from a bow, opened an avenue to my tears, which 
 began to flow in torrents, and my feelings being thus 
 relieved, my life was spared. I wept for a whole hour 
 without ever ceasing, and I felt as if I was born again, 
 and I could listen to others and talk. Assisted by good 
 Franciotto, I passed the day, and towards night I resolved 
 to get up. 
 
 " As I was fast recovering, I revolved in my mind what 
 was to be done in so great a misfortune ; being in total 
 despair of ever being able to live any longer, and reflect- 
 ing that if I allowed my grief to wear me out thus by 
 degrees, how intolerable that kind of death would be, 
 I resolved to die that moment, that I might fly after that 
 blessed spirit. And as I had come to that conclusion I 
 very foolishly thought I had made a great gain, and felt 
 more at ease. 
 
 " Franciotto had never left me since the previous even- 
 ing, but then he went out to see after some business in 
 the ship, and promised to be back in a few moments. 
 Laying my hand on the rapier this identical one you 
 see at my side I thought to consummate the deed on
 
 78 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 the spot. But then remembering that Ginevra was to 
 be buried that same evening, I wished to see her once 
 more. Then throwing my clothes around me in a hurry, 
 and girding on the sword, and taking with me the blue 
 scarf, the only good that was left to me, I went out. 
 
 " As I had passed over the bridge, I met the funeral. 
 The friars of the Kegola proceeding in pairs, and with 
 them several associations of brethren singing the mis- 
 erere, entered Via Julia towards Ponte Sisto ; the bier 
 was covered with a pall of black velvet. 
 
 " Believe me, I did not feel the least frightened at that 
 sight; and thinking that, if not in life, we should be 
 together at least after death, that we were travelling on 
 the same journey, and that one room would shortly re- 
 ceive both of us, I followed them full of melancholy joy, 
 with my thoughts altogether in another world, without 
 knowing whither I was led. Having passed over Ponte 
 Sisto into Trastevere, we entered the church of Santa 
 Cecilia. 
 
 " The bier was laid down in the chapel in which is 
 the tomb of the son of Santa Francesca Romana. I 
 kept on one side, leaning against a wall, while the clergy 
 were performing the last burial service. The final 
 Requiescat in pace was heard for the last time. 
 
 " All went away in deep silence, and I remained there 
 alone almost in darkness, only one lamp burning before 
 the shrine of the Madonna. I heard at a distance the 
 subdued noise and the tread of the people going home. 
 At that moment one o'clock struck, and the sacristan, 
 walking up and down the aisles and shaking the bunch 
 of keys, was about to leave the church. 
 
 " As he passed by, he saw me, and said, ' we shut 
 up ; ' ' and I am going to stay,' was my reply. He
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 79 
 
 looked at me, and with a motion like one who recognizes 
 somebody, added : 
 
 " 'Art thou the Duke's man ? thou hast been too much 
 in a hurry .... the door will be left ajar ; and as 
 thou art here, I will go about my business.' And say- 
 ing no more, he left. 
 
 " I did not pay much attention to him ; still those 
 words made me start, but could not exactly define 
 whether he or I were dreaming. "What about the Duke ? 
 and the door ajar? What does the knave mean? 
 these were the thoughts of my mind. 
 
 " Still very far from the real state of things, and not 
 fit to reason much in those moments, I soon fell back on 
 my former resolution, and after a short interval (all was 
 still around) I approached the bier with the sadness of 
 death in my frame. 
 
 " Having removed the pall that covered it, and draw- 
 ing my rapier which was stout and sharp, I began to pry 
 open the coffin ; it cost me a deal of labor to raise the 
 heads of the nails with the help of that only tool I had ; 
 still I worked so perseveringly that I succeeded in rais- 
 ing the lid. 
 
 " That handsome body dressed in the whitest linens 
 was wrapt in a shroud. Before I died I wished to see 
 that angel's face once more. I knelt, and by degrees 
 I raised the veils which seemed to deny that comfort to 
 me. Having removed the last bandage, I saw Ginevra's 
 countenance ; it looked like a statue of wax. Trem- 
 bling all over I placed my face near her's, and, almost 
 by stealth, feeling as if I were doing something wrong, I 
 could not help kissing her lips. There was a quiver on 
 those lips. I almost died on the spot. ' Can thy mercy,' 
 I said, ' O Almighty God, go so far ! ' And I put my
 
 80 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 hands to her wrists. The beating of my heart almost 
 took the breath from me. The pulse gave signs of life. 
 Ginevra was alive ! 
 
 " But just imagine how frightened I was finding my- 
 self alone there in those circumstances. If she comes 
 to, I thought, and finds herself in this place, the fright 
 will be enough to kill her. I did not know how to act, 
 and I was almost frantic. With open arms I turned 
 towards the Madonna, and prayed, 
 
 " ' 0, true mother of God ! grant me only to save her, 
 and I swear to thee, before thy own Divine Son, that my 
 thoughts are bent only on good purposes.' 
 
 " And I pledged my own heart in a solemn vow, that 
 I would never ask of her aught that would be dishonor- 
 able, if I could succeed in saving her ; and I vowed to 
 banish totally and forever from my mind any thought of 
 putting her husband to death, a resolution which I had 
 for a long time entertained, determined to carry it out 
 some time or other. 
 
 " The compassionate help of God did not fail to respond 
 to a prayer that came so truly from the heart. 
 
 " My Franciotto who, as I have said, had gone out, 
 saw me, on his return, taking the way to the bridge, and 
 judging the truth in part, and fearing, as he told me 
 afterwards, lest I should take some rash resolution, he 
 had followed me. But being full of discretion, he al- 
 ways guarded against speaking to me or annoying me 
 in such moments, well knowing that I did not need 
 advice, but help at the proper moment. He entered the 
 church with the rest, and he had ensconced himself in a 
 dark corner ; and he has repeatedly told me since that, 
 when he saw me laying my hands on the rapier, he was 
 in the act of falling upon me, and kept on the wing, that
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 81 
 
 he should not be too late ; but when he saw that I was 
 only endeavoring to open the coffin, he held back, and 
 only at this moment, as he saw the necessity of it, he 
 made himself known. I heard the tramp of his feet, as 
 I had uttered my prayer ; I turned around and saw him 
 at my side. As I was on my knees, even so I embraced 
 his knees, as of one who came to restore two lives at 
 once, and as of an angel come from heaven to my res- 
 cue. Then arising, I began to reflect how we might 
 with the most ease carry the woman quietly thence. At 
 last we took the velvet pall which had covered the bier, 
 and having turned it inside out, so that in case she came 
 to her senses she might not know in what lugubrious 
 clothes she was lying, and arranging the winding sheets 
 and bandages in such a manner as to make the best couch 
 possible, very carefully we raised her from the bier, and 
 very softly laid her on those folds. 
 
 "The unfortunate Ginevra had not opened her eyes, 
 only broken sighs issued from her bosom. Franciotto 
 went to fumble in some closets, and fortunately found the 
 cruets used for mass, and placing the narrow beak at her 
 lips succeeded to make her swallow some drops of wine 
 and so comfort her ; but very little was given to her, and 
 only with a view to help her strength, as we did not wish 
 her to return to herself in such a place. Then, I at the 
 head and Franciotto at the feet, we took the two extremi- 
 ties of the cloth, with the greatest care, lifted her up, and 
 without any accident, as our Blessed Lady was with us, 
 carried her out of the church, and through San Michele 
 we reached Ripa, where the boats are moored. With 
 the i'est there was one belonging to Franciotto. At that 
 moment we did not know where to find a better place and 
 more protected. We put Ginevra on board of it ; and 
 
 4*
 
 82 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 with the help of two or three men who guarded the 
 bark, having made up a bed in the cabin as well as we 
 could, I sat by her while Franciotto ran for a physician, a 
 friend of his, a good man and trusty, that he might come 
 to assist and bleed her if necessary. 
 
 " He had to pass by Santa Cecilia. As he arrived at 
 the church he saw a squad of armed men who had halted 
 before the entrance, and at first he took them to be the 
 patrol. He endeavored to go as near them as possible, 
 keeping close to the wall, until he succeeded in hiding 
 himself in a favorable position near them, and saw that it 
 was not the patrol after all. They were about thirty men, 
 having partly pikes and partly long swords, for two hands. 
 At some distance he saw a litter carried by two men. 
 And he who appeared to be the leader kept an anxious 
 look towards the church, muffled in a cloak and impa- 
 tiently changing his position from one foot to another. 
 By and by two, who looked like menials, came out of the 
 church, and approaching him, one said : ' Eccellenza, the 
 coffin is pried open, and empty.' 
 
 " There was great power in the words ; and His Excel- 
 lency, unfolding his mantle at once, with a lantern he 
 held under it, lodged such a blow on the messenger's head 
 as to send him sprawling on his back ; and the other 
 knave, had he not taken to his heels, would have got the 
 worse, as that man had his hand already on the hilt of 
 the sword. He stormed a great deal, but at last he had 
 to leave in bitter disappointment. 
 
 " Franciotto had espied in the crowd a man with cape 
 and mantle dressed in a lawyer's garb, and by the light 
 of their lanterns he knew him to be that great ruffian 
 Master Jacopo da Montebuono. The presence of such a 
 man and in such circumstances gave rise to dark sus- 
 picions in Franciotto's mind.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 83 
 
 "As the squad moved on its way he followed at 
 some distance, and instead of going after a doctor he 
 made some design on said Maestro Jacopo. He only 
 feared that he might request some of the soldiers to 
 escort him to his house. But, as it pleased God, when 
 they had reached Ponte Sisto, as he lived at the head of 
 the Via Longara, he parted company with them and 
 took the shortest way home, while the soldiers went over 
 the bridge. Franciotto overtook him under the arch, 
 and having assured him that there was nothing to fear, 
 he begged of him to go with him to Ripa Grande, where 
 a young woman was struggling with death ; and he 
 pleaded the cause so well, that at last he succeeded in 
 bringing him along. 
 
 "As he entered the cabin, he at once recognized 
 Ginevra and myself, and he felt that he had fallen in a 
 trap. Franciotto took me aside, and related to me all he 
 had seen opposite Santa Cecilia, and what he had heard, 
 and I began to compare data and reflect ; at last the 
 bandage fell from my eyes, and I was enabled to under- 
 stand how matters stood. I closed upon Master Jacopo ; 
 I threatened the man, who, after all, was the greatest 
 coward in the world, and I made him reveal everything. 
 He informed me that, by order of Valentino, he had, 
 on the evening of the supper, given the woman some 
 medicated wine, which had thrown her in a stupor, and 
 to help the deceit, he had pronounced her dead, so that 
 the Duke might go, after she had been carried to the 
 church, and carry her to his house. 
 
 " It seemed like a miracle that a plan so well concocted 
 had been baffled ; and think how I thanked God from 
 my heart. 
 
 " Then I looked Maestro Jacopo full in the face, and
 
 84 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 told him : ' Hear me, Master Jacopo, I might lay you 
 down dead with this rapier of mine, but I will spare your 
 life on the only condition that this woman's life be saved ; 
 hence set quickly to work if you wish to return alive to 
 your people. But if you ever mention to a living soul 
 how this affair has ended, I shall kill you like a dog, be 
 sure of it.' 
 
 " The frightened doctor promised every thing, and 
 went about his work in good earnest ; therefore, with the 
 advice of Franciotto, we loosened the bark from the 
 mooring, and we went down the river to Magliana, a few 
 minutes after the clock had struck the hour of five. 
 
 " The good master never breathed a word about the 
 transaction. 
 
 " Meanwhile Ginevra had been restored to herself; and 
 having opened her eyes, she turned them around with an 
 affrighted look. For my part, being now sure that she 
 was alive, and feeling as if I had wrought a miracle, 
 kneeling at the head of her bed, I was pouring thanks to 
 God from my heart. She had been comfortably lodged 
 in a little i-oom of the keeper of the vineyard. 
 
 " After awhile, whilst I was holding one of her hands, 
 on which I pressed now my forehead, and at times my lips, 
 she withdrew it, and parting my hair which fell on my 
 face, she looked staringly at me. At last she broke out 
 in these words : ' Is it not thee, Ettore, mine ? . . . But 
 how are we here ? . . . This is not my room ... I am 
 in another bed. ... Oh ! God ! . . . what has hap- 
 pened? . . .' 
 
 " At this moment Franciotto, who now and then came 
 to the door to see how she was, made his appearance. 
 Ginevra screamed, and throwing herself upon me all in 
 a tremor, said : ' Help, Ettore, there he is ! there he is !
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 85 
 
 most holy Mother, help me.' I endeavored to quiet 
 her in the best manner I could, but to no use ; and she 
 appeared to be so much afraid of good Franciotto, that 
 her eyes looked as if actually starting from their sockets. 
 
 1 knew the mistake, and said to her, ' Ginevra, be quiet ; 
 it is not the Duke, but a most dear friend of mine, who 
 loves you as much as he does himself.' 
 
 "At these words you would have seen her dismiss 
 all fear, and turn towards Franciotto with very pleas- 
 ing manners, as if she wished to offer amends. Ah ! 
 how in my heart I cursed that infamous villain ! 
 
 " Then Ginevra began to beg of me to explain to her 
 how she had come here, and I to beg of her to be, for the 
 present, satisfied with trusting in me ; to think only of her 
 health which needed rest ; and I said so much that I 
 succeeded in quieting her ; and towards morning she took 
 a restorative and slept. 
 
 " But I slept not. I knew too well that it was folly to 
 hope that she would remain with me, and that in spite of 
 me and of herself, she would return to her husband as 
 soon as her strength would allow her. Hence, I sent 
 Franciotto to Rome in great haste to know how things 
 stood there, and what was the talk of the city about the 
 adventure of the night. 
 
 " Towards night he came back, bringing news that 
 Valentino had taken up the march with his troops towards 
 Romagna, and had taken Graiano and his men-at-arms 
 with him. It was not known at Avhat place he would 
 commence operations. 
 
 " I told Ginevra of it, and informed her at last of all 
 that had occurred ; she was very much troubled in her 
 mind, and did not know what to resolve. I laid before 
 her at great length the reasons why she ought not to
 
 86 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 think of returning to Rome, where Valentino might very 
 easily find her out and mend the mishaps of the former 
 attempt ; that her husband, wrapped up as he was in the 
 conduct of the war, and a creature of the Duke, could 
 scarcely be of any protection to her, had he even wished it ; 
 and then how could she trace him out ? I besought her, 
 with the warmest affection, that she would not go against 
 the almost plain will of God, who, through ways so ex- 
 traordinary had brought her away, and had ransomed 
 her from a situation surrounded by so many snares and 
 dangers ; that she ought to reflect that leaving tfie place, 
 in consequence of her supposed death, we might, without 
 any suspicion, go where she might at least wait free and 
 tranquil to see how her fortunes and her husband's 
 would turn ; and with a warmer sense of faith, I added 
 these words, full of detei'mination, 
 
 " ' Ginevra ! I swear to our Blessed Lady that thou 
 shalt remain with me, as thou wert under the protection 
 of thy mother.' Franciotto also came to my aid ; so much 
 so, that Ginevra at last, after many sighs, and finding 
 it difficult to overcome a certain remorse which troubled 
 her exceedingly, said to me : ' Ettore, thou shalt be my 
 guide ; it behooveth thee to show that Heaven, and none 
 else, hath sent thee to me.' 
 
 " This resolution being formed, I addressed a few 
 words more to the Master, with my hand on the rapier, 
 and then I sent him to Rome with Franciotto, from whom 
 I parted with inexpressible sorrow. We went on board 
 a vessel with the few things we had with us, and leav- 
 ing Magliana, sailed down the river to Ostia, whence we 
 coasted all the way to Gaeta. The kingdom was over- 
 run by the French, with whom Valentino was allied, and 
 I did not feel safe until I was a thousand miles away
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 87 
 
 from them. Hence I made the utmost haste to leave 
 those shores, being careful, however, not to fatigue Gi- 
 nevra with too much travelling ; and, as it pleased God, 
 one evening we landed safe and sound in Messina. 
 With a most sincere and overflowing heart, I thanked 
 God that he had led us out of so many dangers." 
 
 As Fieramosca had reached this point of his history, 
 he perceived some mounted men moving from the camp, 
 and riding towards them ; and he added : 
 
 "A great deal more is left to tell thee ; those fellows 
 are coming, and I have not the time. But to conclude ; 
 we tarried very near two years in Messina. Ginevra 
 took her lodgings in a convent, and I, who passed for her 
 brother, visited her often. 
 
 "At that time the war between the French and the 
 Spaniards broke out. After all, I felt ashamed of a life 
 which seemed to me so unworthy of a soldier and of an 
 Italian. 
 
 " Bound as I was by the vow pledged at Santa Cecilia, 
 I could not expect that our affections would meet a vir- 
 tuous end. 
 
 " All Italy was in a blaze of war ; the French ap- 
 peared to be the stronger of the two parties ; and aside 
 from my love for my country which impelled me to fight 
 the most dangerous foe, I had an old grudge against the 
 French for their many acts of insolence. Moreover, to 
 be candid with thee, I imagined there would be more 
 security for Ginevra under the protection of the Spanish 
 flag, where Valentino could not reach her. 
 
 " Ginevra, high-minded as she was, approved of these 
 reasons ; and, notwithstanding her affection for me, she 
 could not bear that I should be left behind, when there 
 was fighting for the good of Italy, and our minds were
 
 88 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 made up firmly. Signer Prospero was levying troops for 
 Gonzalo ; I wrote to him, and was enrolled under his 
 standard. 
 
 " Signor Prospero was then quartered at Manfredonia ; 
 so we left Messina and crossed the sea. On the passage 
 we met with a most extraordinary adventure. 
 
 " We had entered Taranto ; and, having rested there, 
 we left the harbor one morning to sail on to Manfredonia. 
 A dense fog, such as generally visits those waters in May, 
 hung over the sea, and our bark, with two lateen sails 
 and twelve oars, swiftly glided over the smooth waters. 
 At noon we were overtaken by four ships, within a mus- 
 ket shot, and we were hailed to heave-to. At first I 
 thought to run from them ; and I could have done it, 
 because we were at the windward ; but then thinking 
 that with their artillery they might do us harm, I 
 tacked, and complied. 
 
 "They were Venetian vessels, coming from Cyprus, 
 and were carrying Catarina Cornaro, the queen of that 
 island, to Venice. Satisfied as to whom we were, they 
 did not annoy us, and we kept on our journey following 
 on their track. 
 
 " Night had already set in ; the fog had become more 
 dense, and I blessed my luck in meeting them, as we could 
 steer after them without danger of missing our course in 
 so much darkness. 
 
 "About midnight, Ginevra was asleep, and only two 
 men were on the watch, to man the sails and steer the 
 vessel ; but even they fell in a doze now and then. I 
 was sitting on the prow, sleepless and musing. Around 
 reigned the profoundest stillness. I thought I heard the 
 tramp of some men's feet on the upper deck of the 
 queen's vessel, which was only at the distance of a bow-
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 89 
 
 shot from us ; I heard them talking in a subdued tone of 
 voice, but the words sounded full of excitement and 
 anger ; I strained my hearing, and distinctly heard a 
 woman's voice mingling with theirs, and she seemed to 
 appeal for mercy ; sobs and cries followed at intervals, as 
 if there was an effort made to stifle them. At last I 
 heard a splash hi the water like of a body falling into the 
 sea. Having my doubts and fears aroused, I strained my 
 eyes, and something of a white color appeared to me 
 afloat and struggling ; I plunged into the water, and with 
 four strokes or so I swam to it, and grasping the hem of 
 a dress, took hold of it with my teeth and swam back 
 to our bark drawing a body after me. My men had 
 started at the noise ; they helped me on board and the 
 person who was with me. It was a damsel dressed only 
 in night-clothes, her hands bound with a merciless rope, 
 and she gave no sign of life. With some effort at last 
 she revived. We held back at some distance from the 
 Venetians, but they did not seem to mind us at all. We 
 took in the sails and waited for daybreak. With the 
 rising of the sun the weather cleared up, and we reached 
 Manfredonia in a few hours ; there I found Signer 
 Prospero, and I lodged Ginevra with the rest at the 
 tavern. 
 
 " Now thou wouldst like to know who the rescued 
 damsel was, but I cannot give thee satisfaction, because 
 I do not know it myself. She could never be prevailed 
 upon by Ginevra or myself to give any account of her 
 adventures. She was born in the East, and is a Saracen, 
 most undoubtedly ; she is one of the most correct and 
 loyal women in the world ; at the same time she is fierce 
 and bold, fearless of blood or swords, and in the face of 
 danger she is more of a man than a woman. From that
 
 90 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 day to this she has always remained with Ginevra ; and 
 I have induced the Abbess of Sant' Orsola to receive 
 them both in her monastery, where, owing to its vicinity, 
 (while the war keeps us shut up in Barletta,) I can visit 
 them often."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE Frenchmen who were to escort the messengers to 
 the camp had arrived, and the two friends arose, untied 
 their horses, and went with the soldiers. 
 
 They went through long lines of tents and barracks, 
 surveying as they advanced the manners of those who 
 crowded on the paths to know the why and wherefore of 
 their coming; and having made their way through a 
 throng of soldiers, they came upon a square enclosed by 
 pavilions arranged in a circle, in the centre of which stood 
 that of the captain-general. Already the flower of the ca- 
 porali of the army had gathered together ; the messengers 
 alighted, and were introduced. After a courteous but short 
 greeting, two camp-stools were brought in, and they took 
 their seats on them with their backs to the entrance. 
 
 The tent was quadrangular, lined with blue drapery 
 ornamented with golden lilies, and it was arranged in 
 two square apartments, of equal dimensions, divided by 
 slender columns of wood inlaid with blue and gold. At 
 the upper end, covered with a leopard robe, was the 
 bed, and two big greyhounds were lying asleep under- 
 neath. At a short distance, a stand upholding a forest 
 of vials, brushes, golden chains, and jewelry, surmounted 
 by a mirror of polygonal shape, set in a frame of 
 chased gold, a clear proof that the genteel Duke did not 
 disdain to pay attention to the cares of a toilette. It is
 
 92 ETTOKE FIEBAMOSCA. 
 
 true, a dandy of our days would have in vain looked for 
 a bottle of Eau de Cologne, but he would have found 
 a good substitute for it in two large gilt vases, one of 
 which was labelled Eau de Citrebon, and the other 
 Eau Dorec. Armors of different forms were hanging 
 from the columns, resting upon hooks, lances, and pikes, 
 horizontally suspended from pillar to pillar, arranged like 
 trophies. 
 
 In the centre sat Louis d'Armagnac, Duke of Nemours, 
 Viceroy of Naples, chosen by Louis XII. commander-in- 
 chief of that war. He was dressed with a blue cape 
 lined with sable-skin, and his noble countenance beamed 
 with youth, boldness, and knightly courtesy. D'Aubigni, 
 Ivo d'Alegre, Bayard, Mgr. de la Palice, and Chande- 
 nier stood at his side, and all around were barons and 
 knights of minor grade, who formed a crowd in the midst 
 of which Ettore and Brancaleone found themselves. 
 
 The second of the two knew better how to handle a 
 sword than to make a speech, and so he left to Fiera- 
 mosca the duty of explaining the nature of their errand. 
 
 The youth arose, and turning around with a rapid 
 look, Avhich flashed with a boldness void of insolence, as 
 it behooved such place, such hearers, and the subject of 
 his address, he told of La Motte's insult, explained the 
 terms of the challenge, and to comply with the usual 
 forms, having unfolded the brief, he loudly read the 
 following words : 
 
 HAUT ET PUISSANT SEIGNEUR Louis D'ARMAGNAC 
 DUG DE NEMOURS. 
 
 Ayant apprins que Guy de La Mothe en presence de 
 D. Inigo Lopez de Ayala a dit que les gens d'armes 
 Italiens etoient pauvrcs gens de guerre ; sur quoi, avec
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 93 
 
 votre bon plaisir, nous respondons qu'il a meschamment 
 menti, et mentira toutes fois et quant qu'il dira telle chose. 
 Et pour ce, demandons qu'il vous plaise nous octroyer le 
 champ a toute outrance pour nous et les nostres, contre lid 
 et les siens, a nombre egal, dix contre dix. 
 
 DIE VJII APRILIS MDIII. 
 
 PKOSPERO COLONNA. 
 FABRITIO COLONNA.* 
 
 After he had read the brief, he threw it down in the 
 midst of the assembly, at the feet of the Duke ; and Bay- 
 ard, having with the speed of the lightning unsheathed his 
 sword, picked it up with the point of it. Ettore had made 
 a little pause in his speech, and as he was at the point of 
 concluding it, his attention was attracted by a well-pol- 
 ished and brilliantly shining shield which hung before 
 him, and reflected the image of those who stood behind 
 his shoulders. He perceived in it the image of Graiano 
 D'Asti. That sight disconcerted him ; and turning around, 
 he saw there standing, two steps from him, listening with 
 the rest, the husband of Ginevra. Such a discovery, so 
 sudden and unforeseen, unnerved him, and almost disabled 
 him from giving to the conclusion of his speech that point 
 and strength which it was his wish to impart to it. Those 
 who were not in the secret of Ettore's adventures, attrib- 
 
 * To the high and powerful Lord Louis d'Armagnac, Duke of Nemours : 
 We have been informed that Guy do La Mothe has said in presence 
 of D. Inigo Lopez de Ayala that the Italian men of war are poor sol- 
 diers on the battle-field; to this, with your good pleasure, we do reply 
 that he has villanously lied, and he will lie every time, and as long as 
 he shall repeat the same. And for this purpose, we request that it be 
 your pleasure to grant us a free camp for a trial of ourselves and ours, 
 against him and his, with equal number?, ten on each side. 
 
 PROSPEO COLOXNA. 
 April 8th, 1503. FABRITIO COLONNA.
 
 94 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 
 
 uted this accident to motives far different from the true 
 ones, thus doing great wrong to the honor of Fieramosca. 
 Some amongst the French warriors even smiled, and 
 others whispered in their neighbor's hearing, that there 
 was not much to fear from such who seemed to falter 
 at the very name of a fight. The youth noticed both 
 the acts and the words, and felt his cheeks burning with 
 the fire of disdain ; but he reassured his mind with the 
 thought, " let them try, and see whether I fear." 
 
 The Duke's reply was not wanting in either words or 
 arrogance, and the more so that he also had been led 
 from the change of countenance to impute timidity to the 
 Italian. 
 
 The parley was over in a few minutes, and the two 
 messengers were accommodated with refreshments for 
 themselves and their horses in tents near by. 
 
 Graiano had also recognized Fieramosca ; and when 
 they had left the Duke's quarters, he followed him. He 
 approached and saluted him with that careless and un- 
 meaning countenance indicating one who valued the gifts 
 of fortune more than those of virtue ; he had known 
 him in a poor condition, and he did not think he had 
 bettered himself much since they had met. " O ! " said 
 he, " Sir John. . . . No, Sir Matthew. . . . The devil ! 
 I cannot remember it. ... Well, it makes no differ- 
 ence. And so, those who do not die see each other 
 again, eh ! " 
 
 " Just so," answered Fieramosca, who, in spite of the 
 generosity of his character, could not check a feeling of 
 disappointment in seeing a man whom he thought to be 
 in another world, still living, and the just and rightful 
 possessor of her whom he loved above his life. He 
 manfully strove to add something to that dry "just so,"
 
 ETTORE FIEEAMOSCA. 95 
 
 but to no use, and kept silent. Graiano was not a man 
 to understand these half colors ; seeing that the conver- 
 sation was likely to drop there, he added : 
 
 " And so, what are we about ? "We go for Spain, eh ? " 
 
 These questions, in the plural number, sounded to 
 Ettore rather too malapert ; and he answered : 
 
 " What are we about ? You, I do not know. I am a 
 lance in Signer Prospero's service." 
 
 " Eh ! take care of that old saying," answered the 
 Piedmontese with a smile : 
 
 " Orsini, Cotonna, e Franglpani 
 Rlscuoiono oggi e pagan domani." 
 
 (Orsini, Colonna, and Frangipani collect to-day, and 
 pay to-morrow.) 
 
 This motto was very common among the Italian sol- 
 diers of fortune, and it arose from the great pressure for 
 money in which the barons of the Campagna Romagna 
 often found themselves, who, therefore, were more earn- 
 est in getting what belonged to others, than they were 
 prompt in paying their own soldiers. 
 
 Fieramosca at that moment was not in a mood to joke, 
 and so he made no reply. However, not to appear un- 
 courteous, he asked him about his life, and why he had 
 left the Valentino. 
 
 " O ! " Graiano answered, " because that man expects 
 too much, and has too many irons in the fire ; if the 
 Pope should die to-day or to-morrow, everybody will 
 pounce upon him, and will make him pay back both prin- 
 cipal and interest. Well, the less said of that gentleman 
 the better. Now, I am settled here, and I am so well 
 pleased that I would not change even with the Pope." 
 
 During this dialogue, they had reached the tent where 
 luncheon had been prepared. When they had finished a
 
 96 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 hasty repast, and the cloth was removed, they were re- 
 called before the Duke for an answer. 
 
 The reply was, of course, full of boldness and bragado- 
 cio. The French were ready to fight ; they insisted upon 
 having the number of ten increased to thirteen ; which 
 number was held as unlucky, and chosen to portend mis- 
 fortune to the Italians. 
 
 A sealed letter for Gonzalo was given to the messen- 
 gers, and accompanying it a list of the combatants chosen 
 on the part of the French. 
 
 Being thus dismissed, they returned to their tent to 
 wait for their horses. Meantime, many flasks of wine 
 were brought in and pledges were exchanged in com- 
 pany with many knights, among whom was Bayard. 
 Bayard requested Fieramosca to let him see the names. 
 Ettore took the paper from his bosom, and gave it to 
 him ; then all pressed closely around Bayard, and he read 
 the following names : 
 
 " Charles de Tourges. 
 
 " Marc de Frignes. 
 
 " Giraut de Fosses. 
 
 " Martellin de Lambris. 
 
 " Pierre de Liaye. 
 
 " Jacques de la Fontaine. 
 
 " Eliot de Baraut. 
 
 " Jean de Landes. 
 
 " Sacet de Jacet. 
 
 " Guy de la Mothe. 
 
 " Jacques de Guignes. 
 
 " Naute de la F raise. 
 
 " Claude Grajan d'Asti." 
 
 " Claudio Graiano d'Asti ! " exclaimed Fieramosca, 
 staring at the man in amazement.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 97 
 
 " Yes, Claudio Graiano d'Asti," he answered. " Don't 
 you think I am as big as the rest ? " 
 
 " But tell me, Messer Claudio, do you know why this 
 challenge has been sent ? " 
 
 " What ? am I deaf ? to be sure I know it." 
 
 "Well, then you know that the Italians have been 
 branded as poltroons and traitors by these French, and 
 for this we are going to fight. Now, tell me. from what 
 place do you hail ? " 
 
 " I hail from Asti." 
 
 "And is not Asti in Piedmont? and is Piedmont in 
 Italy or France ? and will you, an Italian soldier, fight 
 with the French against the honor of the Italians ? " 
 
 Fieramosca's eyes sparkled with fire as he spoke these 
 words. He would have used stronger terms, but he 
 thought of the vow which prevented him from laying 
 hands on that fellow. 
 
 Graiano, on the other hand, whose way of thinking 
 was a thousand miles apart from that of Ettore, could 
 not understand what all these questions aimed at. He 
 understood him at last, and what he had said appeared 
 to him as the most absurd thing in the world ; therefore, 
 as if he would not condescend to give a direct and sensible 
 answer, he turned to his comrades, and said with a smile : 
 
 " O ! hear him ; hear his nonsense ! One might sup- 
 pose it was the first day he took a lance in his hand ! I 
 care not a fig for the Italians, Italy, and those who love 
 it ; I serve those who pay me, so I do. Don't you know, 
 my clever boy, that a soldier's country is that from which 
 he receives his pay ? " 
 
 " My name is not clever boy ; my name is Ettore Fiera- 
 mosca," answered Ettore, who could not contain him- 
 self any more ; " and I know nothing of these poltroon
 
 98 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 sentiments of yours. And if it was not "... and here 
 his hand involuntarily ran to the sword, but he withdrew 
 it immediately ,_ and went on speaking with such a con- 
 traction of features as we perceive in those who are 
 forced to swallow a bitter morsel. 
 
 " One thing I cannot stand, by . How can you, 
 
 noble gentlemen, and you, Sir Bayard, the first man in 
 the world in our profession, and the most loyal, and the 
 most honest of all, how can you all~stand, hearing this Ital- 
 ian casting such shame into the face of his country ? But 
 everybody knows that there are traitors in every nation." 
 
 " Thou art the traitor ! " thundered the Piedmontese. 
 Both drew their swords, but did not unsheath them en- 
 tirely, as many from both sides, rushing between, held 
 them back, and made them remember that messengers 
 neither could receive nor offer affront. The uproar and 
 the tumult was very great ; but Bayard's voice, which 
 drowned all the rest, restored peace and order among all, 
 and Graiano was dragged away by main force. 
 
 Fieramosca, as he replaced the sword, and rammed 
 it in heavily with the palm of his hand turned to Bayard 
 and offered an apology for what had taken place. The 
 latter placed both his hands on his shoulders and looked 
 at him fixedly in the face, so that the youth, half abashed, 
 lowered his eyes ; after remaining thus for a few mo- 
 ments, he kissed his brow, and said : 
 
 u Benoiste soit lafemme qui votis porta" (Blessed be 
 the woman who bore thee.)* 
 
 An hour after, the drawbridge of Barletta was low- 
 ered, to receive Ettore and Brancaleone on their return. 
 
 * Oh ! how many such youths are now mowed down for the love 
 of their country on the bloody fields of Lombardy !
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 DURING that morning, which had been spent by the 
 Italians in preparing themselves for the fight, the travel- 
 lers, whom we have left on the previous evening, occu- 
 pying the upper part of the Sun Tavern, had not been 
 idle. Their name is a secret for every one, except for 
 the capo-quadra Boscherino, but it shall be no secret 
 for our readers. One of them was Cesare Borgia, Duke 
 of Valenza, whereby he obtained the name of Valentino, 
 and the other Don Miguel de Corrella, one of the lead- 
 ers of Borgia's band. 
 
 It would be falling very far from the truth to compare 
 these two ribalds to the most obnoxious animals, most 
 hostile to every living being. The latter act from 
 instinct, and instinct has its defined limits. But what 
 restraint from evil can be placed on hearts full of per- 
 versity, and led by minds of diabolical astuteness, en- 
 dowed with power and valor because, unhappily, not 
 all rascals are cowards and with immense resources ? 
 
 The son of Alexander VI., the terror of Italy and of 
 all Italians who had gold, domains, or handsome women, 
 found himself almost alone in a poor dwelling, in the 
 midst of a crowd that would willingly buy at the price 
 of their lives the satisfaction of wrecking their vengeance 
 upon him. 
 
 Those who cannot understand how much security can
 
 100 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 be felt by a spirit of strong temper, united to a cool and 
 calculating judgment, will call this assurance the boldest 
 temerity. But the Duke knew himself well ; and balanc- 
 ing on one side the danger he might incur, and on the 
 other the gain he could obtain from a visit to Barletta, 
 he found that the probabilities were in his favor. 
 
 He undertook this journey for two reasons. One was 
 to find out Ginevra, who he had good reason to believe 
 was with Fieramosca; and if we cannot make up our 
 mind to believe that this man cared for her more than 
 for any other woman, we are at least sure in saying that 
 he was sharply stung at the idea of having been made 
 game of. The other was a political reason ; and in order 
 that our readers may have a clear idea of this part of 
 our history,, it becomes necessary to call their attention to 
 the dark features of the politics of those times. 
 
 The power of the Borgia family had sprung up with 
 the elevation of Rodrigo Lenzuoli to the See of Rome ; 
 and through the influence of every kind of arms and re- 
 sources, of frauds, of intermarriages, and with the help 
 of France, it had acquired so much strength, that every 
 prince, every republic in Italy, was in dread of it. Cesare 
 had at first been made Cardinal ; but then, dissatisfied with 
 his situation, made up his mind to secure to himself alone 
 the inheritance of his father, and to obtain the guerdon of 
 crimes committed by joint perversity. The only ob- 
 stacle thrown in the way of his ambition was the Duke of 
 Candia, his brother, Gonfaloniere of the Church, for whom 
 the Pope had reserved some principality in Italy. A 
 stiletto, hired by Cesare, or, as some others say, wielded 
 by his own hand, cut off this obstacle one night. A poor 
 man, who was at the watch on one of the coal barks at 
 Ripetta, saw three men coming towards the river ; one
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 101 
 
 on horseback, it was the Duke ; the body of his brother, 
 laid behind him, was held by two men at the head and at 
 the feet, across the back of the horse ; they threw it in 
 the Tiber, then washed the horse, which was stained with 
 blood, and disappeared through a dark lane. 
 
 A month after this, the Duke defied the purple, and 
 was on his horse at the head of an army. Partly by 
 force and partly by treason, he was soon in possession of 
 Faenza, Cesena, Foiii, Romagna, and part of the Marche, 
 Camerino, and Urbino. But his way of making conquests, 
 and of holding possession of the ill-gotten domains, the 
 evils he had inflicted on so many were such, that he was 
 hated by all, and only an opportunity was wanted to give 
 vent to this general feeling. That opportunity might 
 present itself in two different ways, either by the death 
 of his father, or by losing the support of France. The 
 Pope's age, and the unreliable success of the French 
 arms in Italy, admonished him that it was necessary to 
 secure support to his personal cause from other quar- 
 ters when the present should fail. 
 
 With an eye that could espy any practice, and pry 
 into the closest of hearts, he at once saw the real condi- 
 tion of things in Italy. lie well knew the impetuous ar- 
 dor of the French, who were more apt to carry a day 
 than to endure the ennui of a long and fruitless war. 
 
 lie felt how much Gonzalo could abate their ascend- 
 ancy in Italy. He knew the Spaniard had become ter- 
 rible for his valor, prudence and perseverance, and was 
 very likely to crush the beauty of the lilies. He thought 
 it would be wise to make some overtures to him, in 
 order that he might have a new resource when his old 
 friends might abandon him. But so delicate a matter, 
 and such that if the French knew of it, he would have
 
 102 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 been ruined, could not be committed to any one's trust. 
 For this reason he had left Sinigaglia clandestinely, and 
 had gone to Barletta. 
 
 It was an hour before day when Valentino, whose iron 
 constitution scarcely needed any rest, called Don Miguel, 
 who was hearkening lest he should be wanted, and giv- 
 ing him a letter, said : 
 
 " This to Gonzalo. He will give you a safe-conduct. 
 Should he inquire after me, I am not in Barletta but 
 near by. Yesterday evening I heard all the particulars 
 about Ginevra from those soldiers who were carousing 
 below stairs. I am satisfied now that she is with that 
 Fieramosca, and not very far from here ; I should think 
 in some part accessible by sea. I want to know before 
 vespers where she is. Find out Fieramosca, and see 
 that they do not escape." 
 
 Don Miguel received the letter and the command of 
 his master without saying a word ; he went back to his 
 room, dressed himself, and as daylight appeared, drawing 
 the hood over his eyes, went to the citadel. 
 
 The Duke was at the window, following the course of 
 Don Miguel as the latter left the house ; there was evil 
 in the Duke's eye, and his countenance looked as if it 
 foreboded misfortune to others. And still of all the ribalds 
 he had in his pay, and he had some who had attained to 
 a very high degree of perfection, none could be said to 
 be the soul of all his undertakings as was this one ; and if 
 faith could be placed in a fellow of that stamp, he certainly 
 had given signal proofs of his fidelity to his master on 
 occasions of great importance. But Cesare Borgia hated 
 him for the very reason that he was very much indebted 
 to him, and because he could not get rid of him when he 
 chose, unless he wished to cut off his own right arm.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 103 
 
 Very few persons knew the history of this man. Accord- 
 ing to the general opinion he was from Navarra. To 
 give an insight into his character, we will narrate an 
 extraordinary act of revenge committed against his own 
 brother, which was the occasion of his becoming one of 
 the Duke's servants. 
 
 Don Miguel was married to a young and handsome 
 woman ; and he had a younger brother, unmarried, living 
 with him. The young man was so fascinated with the 
 beauty of his sister-in-law, that, throwing away every feel- 
 ing of decency and respect, he brought her over to his 
 wishes. But they were not guarded enough to escape 
 notice from a young servant girl ; she betrayed them. 
 The husband watched them, and saw their guilt ; and as 
 he drew a poignard to stab them both at once, they man- 
 aged so well as to escape from him only with a scratch. 
 His resentment for the injury inflicted upon him was so 
 great that, pursuing his brother and wife, who fled for their 
 lives, he was determined to kill them by all means. But 
 his brother, hearing that Don Miguel had sworn his death, 
 knew how to hide himself so well that he succeeded in 
 baffling all his plans for many years ; and this galled the 
 outraged husband so fiercely, that, despairing of ever 
 quenching his thirst for vengeance, he was almost spent 
 by this devouring passion. 
 
 The jubilee of 1475 was proclaimed, and the usual 
 practices of penance were performed in the town where 
 Don Miguel lived ; processions, penitential devotions, 
 and preaching in the public squares, brought around, 
 as usual on those occasions, the good results of public 
 reformation ; many an inveterate hatred was quelled, 
 reconciliations took place, and he also seemed to have 
 abandoned his feelings of resentment, and given himself
 
 104 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 up to God. His brother, however, notwithstanding all 
 the advances on the part of Don Miguel, could never be 
 prevailed upon to appear before him. At the close of the 
 Anno Santo, spent by the Spaniard in continual practices 
 of penance, he resolved to leave the world, and repair- 
 ing to a monastery, took the habit and professed religious 
 life. He was sent by his Superiors to various places in 
 Spain, and even to Rome, where he completed his studies, 
 with the fame of possessing no ordinary talents. 
 
 Thence being recalled to Spain, he gave so good 
 accounts of himself, that he was thought fit to be pro- 
 moted to the priesthood. He celebrated his first mass 
 with customary solemnity in the presence of relations and 
 friends. When mass was over, he went to the vestry, 
 and, according to the practice, still dressed in the sacer- 
 dotal robes, he received the congratulations of the people 
 and of his friends, admitting them to his embraces, or to 
 the kissing of his hands. 
 
 Many people had heard him repeatedly protesting that 
 nothing filled him with so much grief as the recollection 
 of the intense hatred he had for so long a time nourished 
 against his brother ; and he had often said that he had no 
 other wish in the world than to be able to efface the past 
 entirely, and that he would even, like a faithful servant 
 of the Lord, be the first to humble himself. On this sol- 
 emn occasion, his brother, moved by the entreaties of all 
 his kin, resolved to present himself along with the rest. 
 As he appeared in the clergyman's presence, he stretched 
 forth his arms, and was beginning to speak. Don Mig- 
 uel received him in his open arms ; but then the beseech- 
 ing brother, instead of raising his head, was seen to drop 
 on his knees, fall backward with a deep groan ; and the 
 priest brandishing in the air a small stiletto, which he
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 105 
 
 had plunged into his brother's heart, while he was press- 
 ing him to his own, kissed the ensanguined blade, and kick- 
 ing the corpse, said, "at last!" and disappeared. The 
 bystanders were thunderstruck, and so horrified, that they 
 did not move ; and the monster was allowed to escape. 
 
 A price was then set on his head ; he wandered from 
 place to place, until he repaired to Rome, and Valentino 
 saved his life. The latter easily discovered the nature of 
 Miguel's soul, and soon employed him in affairs of the 
 highest importance ; and the ribald became, in short, the 
 prime agent in all his undertakings. 
 
 As Miguel reached the gates of the castle, on being 
 asked by the guards whom he wished to see, he pointed 
 to a small coffer under his arm, and told them that he 
 had just returned from the East, and wished to see Gon- 
 zalo, to offer him several samples of very great rarity, 
 powerful remedies against charms, and a thousand like 
 rigmaroles. One of them, after having scrutinized his 
 face very closely, beckoned to him to follow. 
 
 They entered a large yard, enclosed all around with 
 high buildings of ancient architecture. The rooms in 
 each story had their doors opening on piazzas running all 
 around the yard. These piazzas were supported by col- 
 umns of gray stone, and over them were vaulted arches 
 either round or pointed, according to the different epochs 
 in which they had been added. Several turrets, round 
 and crowned with merlons in the shape of swallow- 
 tails, arose at unequal distances high above the level of 
 the roof, and were of a reddish color like that of old bricks. 
 From the top of the highest, which was called the clock- 
 tower, streamed a large flag, yellow and flaming red, the 
 colors of Spain. 
 
 They mounted to the first story, following outside 
 5*
 
 106 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 steps, with wide stone balusters, on -which were squat- 
 ted in a direct line lions of very rough workmanship, 
 and entered a hall where Don Miguel was left by his 
 guide, who said to him : 
 
 "You can speak to the Great Captain when he comes 
 out." 
 
 " And, pray, when will he come out ? " 
 
 " When he pleases." 
 
 And with this not over-courteous reply, the soldier went 
 about his business. 
 
 Don Miguel knew very well that patience is the god- 
 dess of antechambers, and held his peace. He was soon 
 aware that he had become a mark for the curiosity of 
 some gentlemen who had clustered within the embrasure 
 of one of the large windows which opened over the sea. 
 In order to take a position, he began to move about, look- 
 ing at the old pictures, witli which the walls were cov- 
 ered. Thus with an air of nonchalance he went very 
 near to them perhaps, he thought, I might do some 
 good here ! At last he caught the moment to throw in 
 a word or two, and after awhile he was one of the com- 
 pany. 
 
 That good luck which is almost always prayed for use- 
 lessly by honest folks, did not keep our friend long in 
 waiting. He watched with a piercing eye those gentle- 
 men, and selected one especially from the rest. He was a 
 man nearly fifty years of age, tall, thin, with one of 
 his shoulders slightly out of proportion ; he dragged at 
 his side a long sword which stuck out from under his 
 gaberdine, and punched the shins of all around ; for he 
 was fussing about, scraping bows and putting on airs of 
 importance, making himself intimate with every one, but 
 more especially with those who were of higher standing.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 107 
 
 Eyebrows which formed two arches high up to the mid- 
 dle of his forehead, and eyes gray, round, and always 
 looking wonders, gave to his countenance an expression 
 of inquisitiveness, mixed with stolidity ; and this trait 
 was made even more marked by a continual smile with 
 which he accompanied his whole conversation. This 
 good knight was Don Litterio Defastidiis, the Podesta * 
 of Barletta, than whom no man was more inquisitive or 
 more vain. 
 
 Don Miguel, who was a great physiognomist, saw at 
 once that he had met the man he wanted. He approached, 
 and began a conversation with him, addressing him in a 
 manner courteous and frank, which he knew very well 
 how to use when he needed it. The Podesta never 
 added a phrase, without some pleasantry of the obligate 
 kind such pleasantry as must be surely familiar to the 
 reader who may have happened to travel through some 
 small places of the Regno and spend an evening on the 
 settee before the apothecary shop ; but the Podesta 
 always expected that people should laugh. Don Miguel, 
 of course, would be in a roar of laughter all the time, 
 and would interrupt the worthy dignitary, saying : " I 
 never knew a pleasanter man oh ! that is beautiful 
 oh ! how amusing ! " and thus they became boon com- 
 panions in less than half an hour. 
 
 At that moment Prospero Colonna came out of Gon- 
 zalo's room with the safe-conduct for the challenge, 
 crossed the hall, and all bowed to him as he passed. 
 Don Miguel asked who the baron was ; and Don Litterio 
 enjoyed the opportunity of parading his knowledge of 
 affairs, and spoke of the challenge, and related what had 
 taken place at the supper of the night before, and had a 
 * A kind of mayor or moderator.
 
 108 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 great deal to say of Ettore Fieramosca and his amours. 
 Don Miguel, who had obtained more than he hoped, said, 
 feigning to take great interest in the matter : 
 
 " That young man .... what do you call him ? " 
 
 " Fieramosca." 
 
 " This Fieramosca is then a great friend of yours, that 
 you take so much interest in him." 
 
 ' ; Oh ! for that he is one of my dearest friends. And 
 see, he is very much esteemed by Signor Prospero ; then 
 
 he is a great favorite with all He is such a brave 
 
 young man ! We meet every evening either at the Co- 
 lonnas or in the square. It is a pity he has a very ugly 
 habit. He never laughs, never ! He has a face so long, 
 just as if he were excommunicated ; it is painful to look 
 at him. Eh ! I had taken notice of it long ago ; but 
 they would not believe me. Those brave soldiers are 
 queer fellows ! It seems as if they were ashamed to be 
 in love ! But that French baron who has been made 
 prisoner by him, and who had known him in Rome, let it 
 out ; and so now there is not the least doubt. There is 
 too much truth in the old saying : Amore fosse e scab- 
 bia, non la mostra chi non Vabbia" (only those who have 
 it, will give signs of love, cough, and itch). 
 
 Don Miguel of course received this pleasantry of the 
 first magistrate of Barletta with a great laugh, which he 
 had to repeat three times, because it was Don Litterio's 
 gratification to quote the proverb three times in succes- 
 sion. "When this fit of mirth had passed away, and the 
 two companions had become composed again, the Span- 
 iard remarked, 
 
 " It would not be difficult for me to cure him of this 
 love-sickness, and so well that he would never more 
 think of it. But " .
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 109 
 
 And here he paused in order to be importuned. 
 " To cure him ? " quoth the Podesta, " how could you 
 do that ? A fever of that kind is not cured by doctors 
 and apothecaries." 
 
 " And I tell you, that if I could only find one who was 
 an intimate friend of his, who would help me, I could do 
 it, and I would stake my head on it." 
 
 Don Litterio looked at him staringly in the face, to 
 know whether he was joking or in earnest ; and it would 
 bo useless for us to remark that Don Miguel knew very 
 well how to make that investigation turn to his purpose. 
 When the former seemed satisfied as to his friend's being 
 in earnest, he added : 
 
 " If nothing else is wanted, you shall have it." 
 And he thought in his own mind how to secure to 
 himself the merit of this cure, as he claimed for himself 
 the honor of having made the discovery of the disease. 
 And most assuredly, whoever could have achieved the 
 miracle of making Fieramosca more approachable, and 
 partial to noise and jollity, would have been praised 
 to the skies by his friends and by all who knew him. 
 
 Then Don Litterio kept on urging Don Miguel to tell 
 him how he could achieve so difficult a result ; but the 
 latter was very morose, allowing the other to pray and 
 'beseech, as if he were afraid to trust him. At last, feign- 
 ing to yield, he told him, how, in the land of the Turks, 
 he had learned to apply a remedy which had a wonder- 
 ful power to extinguish any love, however desperate. It 
 did not cost him much to master, in a very short time, 
 the hai'e-brained head of the unfortunate Podesta, who 
 thought himself very fortunate in having met this 
 man. 
 
 " One condition is indispensable," said Don Miguel at
 
 110 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 last ; " that is, that I may be in company with' the inamo- 
 rata for five minutes ; then leave the rest to myself." 
 
 " To tell the truth, I could not on the spot direct you 
 how to obtain the interview. Because, in fact, I do not 
 know her. But you can depend on me, provided she is 
 in Barletta, or within tea miles. In less than twenty- 
 four hours I shall be able to give you some information. 
 I will speak to Giuliano ... he is the messenger of 
 the Commune ... he is a real devil to find out every 
 thing." 
 
 " And where shall we meet ? " asked Don Miguel. 
 
 " Anywhere." 
 
 " If it is agreeable to you we will meet at the tavern 
 of the Sun, about twenty-two of the clock." 
 
 " Agreed," answered Don Litterio ; and leaving Don 
 Miguel exceedingly pleased with his good success, he 
 went to the palace of the Commune to find out Giuliano. 
 If it is perfectly agreeable to the reader we will dispense 
 with keeping him company, lest Don Miguel should get 
 too much out of patience in the antechamber. 
 
 He patiently waited a long time, hoping that Gonzalo 
 would make his appearance ; at last he prevailed on the 
 usher to be marshalled in. 
 
 The Captain of Spain was standing upright near a 
 window. He was wrapped in a loose robe of vermilion 
 satin, lined with meniver skin ; and the noble appear- 
 ance, the high forehead, the scrutinizing eye, and lastly, 
 the very name of a man who was so great, awoke in the 
 bosom of Valentino's agent those feelings of awe, and 
 even of cowardice, which invariably assail a wicked 
 mortal in the presence of a virtuous man. With an air 
 of great humility he made a very low bow, and said : 
 
 " Glorious Lord ! the importance of the message I
 
 ETTORE F1ERAMOSCA. Ill 
 
 curry to your Magnificenza has forced me to assume a 
 name which is not my own. If I have offended you by 
 doing so, I humbly beg your pardon ; but as you will 
 perceive by yourself, the necessity of keeping secret was 
 too great, and he who sends me to you could trust him- 
 self to none but to your glorious faith." 
 
 Gonzalo answered in a very few words that he would 
 not betray those who trusted in him, and bade him to 
 give the message. Don Miguel gave him the Duke's 
 letter, obtained the safe-conduct, and carrying it to his 
 master, assured him that Gonzalo would keep the se- 
 cret of his being in Barletta. 
 
 Then he told him how much aid he could promise him- 
 self from his new friend, the podesta ; and so Valentino, 
 pleased with the turn which his schemes seemed likely 
 to take, drew the hood over his eyes, and, wrapped in 
 his cloak, left the tavern. A boat rowed him to the 
 back of the citadel, where Gonzalo, after an agreement 
 with Don Miguel, had sent a man to wait for him. A 
 small gate was opened to him ; and ascending a narrow, 
 secret stairway, they passed through dark winding 
 passages, until he reached the Captain-General's apart- 
 ment. 
 
 We do not deem it to be of much importance to give 
 a detailed account of this interview. 
 
 Valentino gave a substantial resume, with admirable 
 clearness, of the actual state of things in Italy, the 
 nerve, the hopes, the apprehensions of the different states. 
 He led the captain to believe that it would gratify him to 
 attach himself to Spain, feigning to be moved to take this 
 step out of anxiety for the welfare of his people, and to 
 avert the calamities which they would be exposed to, in 
 case the Spaniards should gain the victory. With an
 
 112 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 ingenuousness which he could at times command most 
 admirably, he succeeded in giving to the great general a 
 far better opinion of himself than was generally enter- 
 tained. He proposed to form an alliance with Spain, in 
 which the Pope would join, and in which a chance would 
 be left for the Venetians, in case they would take part ; by 
 it they would pledge themselves to help each other in 
 their mutual interests, and it would be made public only 
 when the Spaniards had obtained possession of two 
 thirds of the Regno. He proposed to make the con- 
 quest of Tuscany with his own forces, showing the im- 
 portance of it by the fact, that the Florentines were the 
 stanchest friends of the French in Italy, and that it 
 would be of paramount necessity to break this powerful 
 alliance. He added, that it would largely increase the 
 strength of the league, to call the Pisans to enter into it, 
 helping them thereby to recompense themselves for the 
 evils they had suffered from the Republic of Florence, 
 over which, if they could have been made stronger, they 
 would have become most watchful guardians. 
 
 Gonzalo had no objections of great weight to offer to 
 these proposals ; and the cunning mind of Cesare Borgia 
 knew how to place in the strongest light matters which 
 were in great part true. But the Spaniard knew him, 
 and did not feel warranted in placing any trust in him. 
 
 He resolved then not to give any definite answer, and 
 said he would take the opinion of his most intimate ad- 
 visers before coming to a final determination. He was 
 very lavish of good words and courteous manners towards 
 Valentino ; he led him to some apartments on the lowest 
 story, which opened over the sea, and he placed them at 
 his disposal for the time he would be pleased to remain 
 in Barletta ; and he directed some of his most faithful
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 113 
 
 servants to wait on him with that attention which was due 
 to a son of Alexander VI. 
 
 Towards evening, Fieramosca and Brancaleone arrived 
 at the gates of the city. As soon as they had entered, a 
 crowd of officers, men of arms, and soldiers began to 
 crowd upon them, and their number increased as they 
 went on ; all very anxious to be the first to know the 
 answer of the French. How did you get along ? what 
 is the reply ? who will enter the lists ? when ? where ? 
 .... But the two friends, smiling at so much fury, 
 calmly answered : Come to the rock, and you will 
 know it. As they reached the citadel, and were intro- 
 duced to Gonzalo, Fieramosca handed him the letter of 
 the Duke of Nemours, which the General read aloud, and 
 in which it was said that the challenge was accepted, but 
 free camp was refused. This seemed very strange to all, 
 and the great captain remarked : 
 
 " I could never believe that the French would seek to 
 avoid the fight. But you shall have a free field ; be sure 
 of it." 
 
 Then he called one of his secretaries, and said to him, 
 " Write to the Duke of Nemoui-s to be of good cheer, that 
 the obstacle is removed ; I offer him a truce until after 
 the fight ; and lastly, that after three days I expect my 
 daughter Elvira, in whose honor I intend to have a little 
 feast ; if he chooses, while the arms are laid down, to 
 come and enjoy them with us, he will contribute to make 
 it more cheerful." 
 
 Between writing, expediting the letter, and receiving 
 an answer, scarcely two hours had passed. The Duke 
 of Nemours accepted the invitation and the truce, which 
 was proclaimed through the city that same evening at 
 the sound of trumpet, together with the names of the
 
 114 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 Italian combatants, to which, to complete the number 
 required by the French, three men had been added ; and 
 their names were : 
 
 Ludovico Aminale of Terni. 
 
 Mariano da Sarni. 
 
 Giovanni Capoccio Romano.
 
 CHAPTER VHI. 
 
 SANTA ORSOLA was the titular saint of the monastery 
 situated on the island between Mt. Gargano and Bar- 
 letta. The only vestige of it that remains at the present 
 day is a heap of ruins covered with ivy and briars. But 
 at the time of our history it was an imposing structure, 
 of sombre appearance, kept in excellent repair, erected 
 in olden times by the tardy repentance of a princess of 
 D'Anjou. After a life neai'ly exhausted in pursuits of 
 pleasure and ambition, she withdrew thither to spend 
 her last days in works of repentance and atonement. 
 There one can enjoy a sweet solitude in perfect seclusion. 
 On a rock about forty -five feet above the level of the sea 
 rose a plateau of near fifteen hundred feet in circumfer- 
 ence, the soil of it being very rich. The church stood on 
 the corner nearest to terra firma. The entrance to it was 
 under a tasteful portico supported by handsome columns 
 of gray granite. The aisles of the church, flanking the 
 nave, were vaulted on pointed arches, poising on fasces 
 of slender columns ornamented with carvings. The light 
 was admitted through long Gothic windows of stained 
 glass, representing the life and deeds of the martyred 
 Ursula. The absis behind the high altar was semicircu- 
 lar, with mosaics on grounds of gold. They represented 
 the Eternal Father in glory, and Saint Ursula, sur- 
 rounded by her virgin companions, at his feet. 
 
 The church was rarely visited, as it was very much
 
 116 .ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 out of the way. But at stated hours in the day and at 
 night the nuns would meet there for psalmody. It was 
 towards evening, and the inmates of the monastery had 
 assembled at vespers, and during the monotonous sing- 
 ing of the psalms, a woman could be seen kneeling in 
 prayer near a tomb of marble once white, but now ren- 
 dered yellowish by age ; it was surmounted with a 
 canopy also of marble, and with an exuberance of chis- 
 elled foliage and animals in the Gothic style. 
 
 At first sight, that woman so pale and motionless, cov- 
 ered with a flowing white veil, might have been taken for 
 a statue of the foundress, who lay beneath the tomb. But, 
 on closer observation, the beholder saw two long tresses 
 of auburn hair peeping from under the veil, and the occa- 
 sionally upturned face disclosed two blue eyes, from 
 which a prayerful light was beaming. 
 
 The unhappy Ginevra, for she it was, felt the need of 
 prayer, because she was in that state in which the heart 
 of a woman finds no resources to conquer itself. She 
 regretted, however, too late, that she had followed Fiera- 
 mosca, and thus attached her fortunes to him, to whom, 
 more than to any one else, prudence and duty forbade 
 her to cling. To have neglected so long ascertaining 
 whether her husband was alive or dead, was to her a 
 source of reproach. Reason whispered to her : it is not 
 too late to do what ought to have been done long ago ; 
 but the heart interfered, and' said, 'tis too late. That too 
 late sounded as a sentence without appeal. Her days 
 were full of anxiety, anguish, and bitterness. She had 
 no hope of getting rid of her trouble but by putting an 
 end to the contest of her feelings. Her constitution was 
 suffering under this perpetual struggle. 
 
 She had some comfort in the morning, and at the hours
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 117 
 
 of mid-day. She could work at the needle, she had plenty 
 of books to read, and she walked in the garden of the 
 monastery. But towards night ! Like those insects 
 which at the setting of the sun seem to multiply and to 
 double their energy to vex man, so the most annoying 
 cares, and most ominous thoughts crowded upon her mind 
 and soul, and made her wretched. Then she would run 
 to the church for relief. She could find no peace, no joy 
 there, but she drew some comfort at least from prayer. 
 
 The purport and the spirit of her prayer was ever the 
 same. " Most blessed mother, make me wish not to love 
 him ; " sometimes she added, " O ! nerve me to resolve 
 to seek after Graiano, or cause me to have the wish of 
 finding him out." Alas ! very often she had not the 
 heart to utter this last prayer. 
 
 Sometimes it happened that, from the habit of repeat- 
 ing this prayer so often, she caught herself thinking in 
 earnest of Fieramosca, when she was just praying for 
 grace to forget him. In that torture of her soul she 
 sobbed and cried, but she could not deceive herself as to 
 which was the strongest wish of her heart. However, 
 on this day, in one of those ups and downs which are 
 so usual in our human nature, she thought at last that 
 she could brace herself up to resolve on the true course. 
 Her failing health made her feel as if she would soon 
 be very ill ; then she thought of death. What ! to meet 
 death with an accusing conscience ? This struck her 
 forcibly, and threw the weight on that side of the scales ; 
 she resolved to obtain information of Graiano, and if she 
 could trace him out to go back to him, by all means, 
 cost what it might. Had Fieramosca been there, she 
 would have told him her determination resolutely on 
 the spot, without the least hesitation ; but on rising to
 
 118 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 leave the church, she said," " He'll come this evening, 
 and he shall know all." 
 
 The chant in the choir being over, the nuns were 
 leaving one by one, and were returning to their cells 
 through a small gate leading to the small court-yard of 
 the cloister. 
 
 Ginevra followed them, and entered a portico, which 
 ran around the small garden, and in its neatness shone 
 like a mirror. A wooden shed, supported by four pi- 
 lasters of stone, protected a well lined with bricks, in, the 
 centre of the garden. Through a long corridor she 
 passed into a back court-yard, at the end of which stood 
 a small dwelling, which, not cloistered, was separated 
 from the convent, and where the guests lodgings were 
 built. Ginevra, with the young woman whose life Ettore 
 had saved, occupied two or three rooms of it. These 
 rooms, after the usual manner of monasteries, had no 
 communication with each other, but were entered from 
 a common corridor. When Ginevra entered what was 
 used for a sitting-room in day time, Zorais was busy at a 
 frame, and whilst plying the needle, she sang an Arabian 
 air, composed in minor tones, after the usual manner of 
 the songs of southern nations. Ginevra glanced at the 
 work, and sighed ; it was a cape of blue satin embroid- 
 ered with silver, at which they both worked together, and 
 was destined as a present to Fieramosca. Then she sat 
 on the piazza, which looked over Barletta, and was shaded 
 with vines. The sun was setting behind the hills of 
 Puglia. A few narrow strips of clouds scattered about 
 the sky, glowing with the glare of the sun, resembled 
 golden fish swimming in a sea of fire. Their form was 
 stretched on a long line, and reflected the light on the 
 surface of the waters, rippled here and there by a few
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 119 
 
 boats of fishermen, sailing with a light eastern wind 
 towards the shore. The woman's gaze was rivetted upon 
 the mole of the opposite harbor, whence a small boat 
 was often seen to start and row towards the island. 
 
 On this evening she wishes to see that boat more than 
 ever ; she feels as if it were freighted with a most impor- 
 tant decision ; no matter what the result may be, any- 
 thing will be better than her present state. But ! those 
 moments thus spent in waiting were long and bitter ! 
 She wished Ettore had already come ; she wished she had 
 already told him that which she felt so difficult to utter ; 
 in case he tarried, or did not come at all, would she feel 
 the same energy and determination on the morrow ? 
 
 A dark dot, Avhich at first seemed to have scarcely any 
 motion, appeared soon on the water near the shore. 
 After a quarter of an hour it approached nearer and 
 nearer, and increased in size. An unaccustomed eye 
 could hardly see that it was a one oar boat ; but Ginevra 
 recognized it, and her heart beat convulsively. By a 
 sudden revulsion, her former ideas and resolutions were 
 changed, and all at once she felt that it would be impos- 
 sible to tell him what a few moments before she had, or 
 at least thought she had, irrevocably determined to say. 
 She would even have been pleased had the boat tacked 
 about and returned ; but alas ! on, on it came ; it was 
 already near the island ; she could hear the splash of 
 the oars plunging into the sea. 
 
 " Zorais, here he is ! " she said, turning towards the 
 maiden, who scarcely raised her head, but nodded in 
 reply that she had heard the announcement, and fixed 
 her eyes again on the work before her. Ginevra went 
 down to the only place where the island could be ap- 
 proached, and through steps cut in the stone, reached the
 
 120 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 shore just when Fieramosca was in the act of laying the 
 oars down, and the bow struck on the rock. 
 
 Now the truth was that while the woman felt loath to 
 declare her own resolutions, Fieramosca, who had matters 
 equally as momentous to reveal, possessed no more cour- 
 age than she did, 
 
 Having been so long away from the places where 
 Graiano had been following the fortunes of different ar- 
 mies, he had not heard tidings of him for many a day. 
 Some soldiers from Romagna, either not being well in- 
 formed or having mistaken the name, had told him that 
 he was dead. Such news would have been too much in 
 accordance with his wishes to be disbelieved, or to induce 
 him to take any steps to verify the fact. We are of opin- 
 ion that one very seldom wishes to see matters clear, when 
 he is afraid to discover his own evil. Thus, neglecting to 
 employ proper means to find out the truth, he went on 
 from day to day, until his own eyes had at last undeceived 
 him. He went back to Barletta, struggling within him- 
 self whether he should tell Ginevra or not. If he did, 
 then they would be separated forever ; if not, then he felt 
 as if he was becoming guilty of positive wrong; but, 
 again, how could he hide anything from her, who knew 
 so well how to read his very thoughts ? 
 
 In this state of perplexity he arrived at the island ; 
 his mind was not made up when he met Ginevra, and 
 feeling that he had to decide one way or the other, he re- 
 solved to say nothing for the present, saying to himself 
 we'll see about it. 
 
 " I am late to-night," said he, ascending the steps, " but 
 we have had a deal to do, the whole day, and I have 
 great news." 
 
 " News ! " answered Ginevra, " good or bad ? "
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 121 
 
 " Good ; and with God's help they will even be better 
 in a few days." 
 
 They had reached the yard before the church ; on the 
 very brink where the rock falls perpendicularly into the 
 sea there was a low wall for a parapet or fence, with a 
 few cypress trees, a wooden cross, and all around many 
 rustic seats. 
 
 They both sat down in the silvery light of the moon, 
 which had already overcome the red glare of the twilight 
 hours, and Fieramosca began : 
 
 " Ginevra mine, be of good cheer ; to-day has been 
 one of glory for Italy and for ourselves ; and if God does 
 not refuse to favor a just cause, it will prove the begin- 
 ning of even greater glory. But now it is necessary to 
 act with manliness ; and you must show yourself an 
 example worthy for Italian women to follow." 
 
 " Speak," replied the young woman, staring at him, as 
 if she wished to study his countenance, and there to read 
 in advance what was expected from her ; " I am a woman, 
 but I have a heart." 
 
 " I know it, Ginevra ; and I would much quicker doubt 
 the rising of to-morrow's sun, as to entertain the least 
 doubt of you "... And then he told her of the challenge, 
 of all the particulars concerning its origin, how they 
 entered the French camp, their return, and of the fight 
 for which they were preparing. Those among my readers 
 who have happened to converse with a woman of noble 
 spirit about generous deeds to be done in behalf of one's 
 country, must remember how they felt their heart quicken- 
 ing in its pulsations, and will know how impassionate must 
 have been Ettore's words, how fervid with the love 
 of country and aspirations of glory, and how the presence 
 of Ginevra must have increased the fire of his soul.
 
 122 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 As Ettore was progressing in the narrative of the events 
 of that day (and his enthusiasm grew with the growing 
 interest of the subject,) the breathing of Ginevra quick- 
 ened, like a sail swollen by the impulse of strong winds ; 
 her bosom was heaving under unmanageable and dis- 
 cordant, but not unworthy feelings ; her eyes, seeming to 
 take their temper from the words of the young soldier, 
 glared and sparkled. 
 
 Lastly, laying her gentle and white hand on the hilt 
 of Ettore's sword, and raising her face boldly, she said : 
 
 " Would I had thine arm ! would I might wield the 
 weapon I can scarcely lift ! thou shouldst not go alone ; 
 no ! and I should not live perhaps to hear the Italians 
 gained the victory, but remained there on the field. . . . 
 O ! I know it, I know it. Thou shalt not return con- 
 quered " . . . . Here the thought of the impending danger 
 fell upon her mind, and she could not stem a torrent of 
 tears ; they fell upon and bedewed the hand of Fiera- 
 mosca. 
 
 " For whom do you cry ? Ginevra, have you any 
 wish that the combat should not take place ? " 
 
 " No, Ettore, never, never ! do not wrong me thus ; " 
 and drying her tears she added, with great emotion, " I 
 do not cry . . . see, it is over now ... it was only a 
 moment." . . . Then with a smile, to which the tearful 
 eyelids added charms, she said : 
 
 " I have aspired to too much bravery ; and I have 
 spoken of arms and wars, and then I have shown what I 
 am ; I deserve it" 
 
 " A woman of your temper can make swords do won- 
 ders without touching them ; you could turn the world 
 upside down ... if you knew how. I do not mean you, 
 Ginevra, but those women of Italy, who alas ! are not 
 like you."
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 123 
 
 Zorais was then coming with a basket filled with 
 fruits, cakes, apples, and other refreshments, and she had 
 caught the last words. She carried the basket on her 
 left arm, and in her right she held a decanter of white 
 wine. She wore garments cut in the eastern fashion ; but 
 still she betrayed the taste of an uncivilized people in her 
 choice of gaudy colors, and in the fantastic way of ar- 
 ranging them. Her head was dressed after the Oriental 
 costume, with twisted bands, the ends of which fell on 
 her bosom. Her eyebrow was uplifted, her look eagle- 
 like, the color of her countenance rather brown, and, if I 
 may be allowed the expression, slightly gilt, as we see in 
 the races coming from the Caucasus. Pier manners were 
 affectionate, with an occasional dash of savage nature; 
 her candor was bold, and without regard to persons. 
 
 She stopped to look at Ettore and Ginevra, and said in 
 Italian, with a slight foreign accent, 
 
 " Ettore, you were talking about women, eh ! I want 
 to hear what you said." 
 
 " Something very different from what women like," 
 answered Ginevra ; " It was all about a dance, in which 
 you and I would show to no advantage whatever." 
 
 These mysterious words sharpened Zorais' curiosity, 
 and Ettore had to repeat the whole story again. 
 
 Zorais appeared thoughtful for a moment, and then said, 
 with a toss of the head, 
 
 " I cannot understand you. So much ire, so much ado 
 because the French say that they do not think much of 
 you ! It seems to me they have told you so more im- 
 pressively, when they came to your land to consume 
 your crops, and dislodge you from your homes. And do 
 not the Spaniards tell you the same, when they come to 
 Italy to do what the French have done ? The hart does
 
 124 ETTOBE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 not chase the lioii out of his den, but the lion both drags 
 the hart out and devours it" 
 
 " Zorais, we are not here among barbarians, ' where 
 might makes right.' It would take me too long to tell 
 you what rights France has over the kingdom. Enough 
 to say that the Roman See holds it as a fief, which 
 means, that she is mistress of it. In force of this right, 
 about two hundred years ago, she invested with it Charles 
 of Provenza, and the most Christian king is vested with 
 the title of inheritance." 
 
 " It is curious ! and who gave it to the Roman See ? " 
 
 "It was the gift of Robert Guiscard, a French warrior, 
 who had gained possession of it by force of arms." 
 
 " Worse and worse ! I understand it still less, now. 
 Is not Issaben-Jussef the author of the book which 
 Ginevra gave to me, and which I have read with great 
 attention,! assure you? 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well ; he says that all men are made to the image of 
 God, and ransomed with his blood. I can understand 
 well that there may be Christians, who, by an abuse of 
 their power, take possession of the property and lives of 
 their equals ; but I cannot understand how this abuse can 
 be construed into a right to be enjoyed by the children's 
 children." 
 
 " I do not know," said Ettore with a smile, " whether 
 you understand nought or too much. But unless you 
 admit this right, what would become of emperors and 
 kings ? and without them how could the world go on ? " 
 
 Zorais shrugged her shoulders and said no more. She 
 spread a white towel, scented with the freshness of the 
 laundry, over one of the seats, and with the refreshments 
 she had brought with her, she prepared a merenda.
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 125 
 
 " That is good," remarked Ettore, in order to divert 
 the thoughts which he read on Ginevra's countenance ; 
 " let us have a feast, and enjoy ourselves, while we have 
 the chance, and let the world go as it will." 
 
 " The proverb says," Fieramosca continued, " ' never 
 speak of the dead while you are at table ' ; we will not 
 speak even of challenges ; let us talk of something 
 cheerful. We shall have feasts very soon. Signer Gon- 
 zalo has proclaimed a tourney, a bull fight, theatricals, 
 balls, and grand banquets ; a good time is coming." 
 
 " What do you mean ? and the French ? " Ginevra 
 asked. 
 
 " And the French will be at the feasts with us. A 
 truce has been offered, and they will not be such villains 
 as to refuse it. The whole has been set up for the pur- 
 pose of welcoming the Lady Elvira, the daughter of the 
 great Captain ; and since he loves her as the apple of 
 his eye, he intends to have great festivities." 
 
 Here there was no end to questions, and Ettore en- 
 deavored to satisfy them as best he could. We give 
 some of his answers, leaving the reader to guess the 
 questions. 
 
 " Handsome ? most beautiful, if common report be 
 true ; her tresses like threads of gold." 
 
 " She will arrive in a few days." 
 
 " She fell sick in Taranto, and now that she is well, 
 she is coming to join her father." 
 
 "I guess he does love her. Just think, he has done 
 for her what he never did for himself. Perhaps you 
 have heard that a mutiny took place among the Spanish 
 troops in Taranto because he did not pay them, and 
 Inigo told me that Gonzalo saved his life by miracle, 
 as he was surrounded by the soldiers armed with pikes.
 
 126 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 While the General protested loudly that he had no 
 money, one Yciar, a captain of infantry, cried out, with 
 impertinent and shameful words, that his daughter (you 
 will pardon me) would make him get some. Gonzalo 
 did not say a word ; the tumult was quelled, and at night 
 quiet reigned again. On the morning they get up, they 
 went to the square, and what do you think they saw ? 
 Captain Yciar hanging by the neck from the window of 
 his own rooms. And Gonzalo had not taken any notice 
 of those who had levelled the pikes to his own breast. 
 Judge now, whether he loves her or not." 
 
 They followed this train of conversation until it had 
 become late. 
 
 " It is time for me to go," Fieramosca remarked ; he 
 rose, and accompanied by the ladies moved slowly to- 
 wards the boat. Ginevra went down with him to the 
 foot of the rock, and Ettore, stepping into the boat, bade 
 good-by to Zorais who had not come down ; but she 
 scarcely returned the salute, and withdrew. He did not 
 mind it, and said to Ginevra, 
 
 " She did not hear me. Let me be remembered to her. 
 Good-by. God only knows whether during these days 
 we can see each other. But we'll do the best we can." 
 He plied the oars and left the island. Ginevra regained 
 the platform, and there she remained apparently absorbed 
 in deep thought watching the two lines which, diverging 
 from the prow, marked the wake of the boat over a long 
 surface of the waters. When she could see no more, 
 she entered the house, closed the door, and secured it 
 for the night, with two bolts.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE fowlers of our own days employ about the same 
 kind of decoys to ensnare birds into their nets as have 
 been used from the beginning ; and men also have always 
 been caught by about the same kind of bait. 
 
 But the most perilous of all snares is perhaps that 
 which calls into play our own self-love. Don Miguel 
 knew this ; and having found what was the lame point in 
 the Podesta, with a few dexterous strokes had him in his 
 power, as we have already seen. When the worthy mag- 
 istrate had left the antechamber of Gonzalo to look for 
 the servant of the Commune, he revolved the matter in 
 his mind, indulging in a thousand most extraordinary 
 thoughts ; was almost beside himself for the joy of hav- 
 ing met a man who had promised him such amazing 
 discoveries. It is true, a suspicion at times arose in his 
 mind that perhaps he was a trickster ; but as he pos- 
 sessed a most exalted opinion of his own wisdom, he con- 
 soled himself with the usual saying of those who spend 
 their lives in being humbugged, They cannot catch 
 me. 
 
 He was punctual at the rendezvous at the Tavern of 
 the Sun. But as yet he could not furnish any additional 
 information to Don Miguel, because the servant, who, in 
 his opinion, was so skilful in ferreting things out, had 
 promised a great deal, done little, and found out nothing.
 
 128 ETTORE FIKRAMOSCA. 
 
 During his supper, his wife and the servant-maid soon 
 observed that there was some mighty thought weighing on 
 his mind, and they stormed him with so many questions 
 that he could not eat a morsel. It was a great wonder 
 that he did not let the whole secret out ; for it would be 
 a great deal easier for a man to suppress a cough in a 
 most violent fit, than for him to keep a secret, especially 
 when he thought that its possession increased his reputa- 
 tion. He had already allowed some broken sentences to 
 escape from his lips. Eh ! I know it ... if you only 
 knew it ! ... if I can succeed in a certain affair ! . . . . 
 But then he suddenly recovered himself, became fright- 
 ened at the danger, arose from the table, and peevishly 
 snatching a light went to bed. 
 
 That night seemed to him as long as an age. At last, 
 daylight appeared. He dressed himself in a great hurry, 
 and having gone to the square, installed himself in a 
 barber's shop, where Don Miguel had promised to meet 
 him. He took a seat on a bench of that establishment, 
 which was the accustomed morning resort of the notary, 
 the doctor, the apothecary, and two or three others, wise- 
 acres of Barletta. He crossed his legs, and kept contin- 
 ually shaking the foot which was dangling in the air ; the 
 left arm was laid against his body, and the hand resting 
 on the opposite side supported in its palm the elbow of 
 the right arm, while the hand attached to this had 
 made a drum of his chin, beating time on it. He kept a 
 sharp look-out in every direction to espy his new friend 
 when he should appear ; but as he saw no signs of him, 
 he stared vacantly at the skies. The apothecary, the 
 doctor, and the rest, had repeatedly wished him good 
 morning, but to no purpose ; he scarcely noticed them, 
 and they shrank from him out of respect, and whispered
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 129 
 
 to each other : " "What the deuce is in the wind this 
 morning ? " Don Litterio left them to their thoughts and 
 kept silent. He had two different expressions of coun- 
 tenance at his command ; one most blandly humble for 
 those who were his superiors ; another sharp and full of 
 wrinkles for those who were inferior to him ; and, as 
 all know, this is the precious boon given by Heaven to 
 every uncommon fool. 
 
 Half an hour having been spent in this way, he heard 
 a voice from behind his shoulders, 
 
 " Eccellenza ! . . . Signor Podesta ; I hope it is no 
 offence to you ; . . . but will you accept some of these ? 
 . . . they have been gathered while the dew was still on 
 them." 
 
 He turned around, and saw the gardener of Sant' Orsola, 
 Gennaro Rafamillo, who offered him a little tithe from a 
 basket of cherries, which he was in the habit of selling, 
 with other fruits, every morning in the square. He knew 
 from experience, that, by offering this tribute, he might 
 afterwards sell as many as he pleased, with impunity, and 
 without much minding the clerk of the market. 
 
 " I have something else in my head than thy cherries," 
 answered Don Litterio ; however, after taking a survey 
 of the basket, puffing up his cheeks, and letting the col- 
 lected air escape slowly, with a kind of dignified contempt, 
 he took two or three grape leaves, placed them on the 
 bench to serve for a plate, and laid on them a good heap 
 of the cherr-ies, which he began to eat with an air of 
 condescension. 
 
 " They are nice, are they not ? Tell the truth ! I took 
 some of them to Madam last evening, and she told me 
 that she had never tasted any better." 
 
 " And who is this Madam ? " 
 
 <5*
 
 130 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 " Madonna Ginevra ; she who lives in the guests' 
 rooms ; and they say that she is a great gentlewoman of 
 Naples ; and she has here, I do not know whether it is a 
 husband or a brother, who serves under Signer Prospero, 
 and he comes to see her almost every day. . . ." 
 
 The gardener seemed disposed to talk a great deal, 
 because, in truth, laconism was not his main virtue ; but, 
 meanwhile, Don Miguel had arrived ; and stepping be- 
 hind the Podesta, who had not perceived him, 
 
 " Here we are, Signor Podesta," he said, tapping him 
 on the shoulder ; " it strikes me that this man can put us 
 on the track ; leave him to me. . . ." 
 
 And not waiting for an answer, he began to lay snares 
 for Gennaro ; and in a very short time he knew from his 
 answers that the lady was the identical Ginevra of whom 
 he was in search. The clew was found ; all the rest 
 was as child's play for him. But in order that he might 
 obtain access to the monastery, examine the place, and 
 arrange everything necessary to secure the woman, the 
 cooperation of the valiant Podesta would be eminently 
 useful. It was therefore necessary to inspire him with 
 such confidence as to dispel from his mind any fear 
 as to the rectitude of his intentions. 
 
 He took him apart, and said : " We must have a talk 
 about this matter. "Wait for me at the Sun Tavern ; in 
 the mean time, I will see if this wight can point to me 
 the young man who now and then visits Ginevra." 
 
 Don Litterio went to the tavern, while Miguel led the 
 gardener to the guard-house, which was crowded with 
 officers and soldiers, and asked him, 
 
 " Is he among them ? " 
 
 Gennaro looked awhile, espied Fieramosca, and said : 
 " There he is."
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 131 
 
 And Don Miguel learned from one of the soldiers that 
 he had found whom he was looking for. 
 
 In five minutes after, he was with the Podesta at the 
 tavern, which at that hour was deserted, and sat vis-a- 
 vis at a table with two goblets and a decanter of Greek 
 wine before them. 
 
 Don Miguel began to speak with a countenance com- 
 posed, with great modesty : " The discovery is sure. But 
 before we go any further, I have something to tell you. 
 Don Litterio, I have seen a great deal of the world, and 
 I pride myself in knowing honest men at first sight. 
 From the little conversation we have had together, I feel 
 confident to assure you that a better talent than yours is 
 not to be found in the world." 
 
 The Podesta's countenance bespoke a reply to the 
 compliment. 
 
 " No, no ; no thanks. ... I speak my mind. You do not 
 know me. If I thought differently, I would tell you in 
 plain words, Signer Podesta, (I beg your pardon), that you 
 are an ass. Therefore, if I were an impostor, I should 
 look for somebody else. But, as I pride myself in being 
 as much of an honest man as any in the world, no matter 
 who he may be, I do not recoil from having to do with a 
 person who can see very far. Now, I will tell you all, 
 and I do not intend that you should rely only on my 
 words ; you shall have proofs, and then you will be satis- 
 fied that you have fallen in with an honest man." 
 
 Here he began with a rigmarole of his own ; that, in 
 his time, he had been a very great sinner ; that, to obtain 
 pardon for his misdeeds, he had travelled to the holy 
 places of Jerusalem ; that a hermit on Mount Lebanon 
 had at last shriven him, enjoining on him for his penance, 
 that he should travel the world for seven years, that,
 
 132 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 whenever he met an opportunity of doing good in any 
 way whatever, he should undertake it, even at the peril 
 of his life, being satisfied with an humble condition, 
 that, to comply with this injunction, he employ for the 
 welfare of mankind all the learning he had obtained in 
 his long travels through Persia, Syria, and Egypt. 
 
 " Now," he added, " you can understand why I feel so 
 anxious to free this friend of yours from his love, and 
 from those dangers which might peril the eternal sal- 
 vation of his soul. "Well, then, there is no doubt that 
 that lady Ginevra of Sant' Orsola is the woman in ques- 
 tion. Now it must be by your exertions that I shall be 
 introduced to her. You mjght fear that I am a bad man ; 
 and certainly you could not feel warranted in leading into 
 that holy house a man with whom you are unacquainted, 
 and certainly you would be right." 
 
 Don Litterio began to move convulsively. 
 
 " No. ... I say it again . . . -you are perfectly right ; 
 no person carries the testimonial of his honesty on his 
 forehead. And there are so many wicked people about ! 
 But I will show to you that, with the help of God, I can 
 extract treasures from the bowels of the earth, break the 
 fury of a gunshot, and perform a thousand most difficult 
 deeds, as you shall see presently, and that the gain will 
 be all on your side, without my partaking of any emolu- 
 ment, satisfying myself with only so much as will support 
 my frugal life ; and you will be forced to say : ' This man 
 could be rich and live in ease ; instead of that he is poor 
 and leads a life of constant toil ; therefore what he says 
 must be true, and certainly he cannot be called a wicked 
 man.' One word more and I have done ; it has been the 
 advantage of a great many to have met with me ; I might 
 be of use to you also. Think of it and make up your
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 133 
 
 mind quickly. The penance I have to perform constrains 
 me to travel incessantly, and never to stop in any one 
 place more than one week." 
 
 Such an appeal, to which the Podesta listened with 
 open mouth, had the effect to make him feel ashamed 
 that he ever thought evil. However, to show that he was 
 a wise man, he answered that, if he could have some proof 
 of the truth of what Don Miguel had asserted, he would 
 willingly lend him his aid in whatever he could do for 
 him. 
 
 Having thus agreed, they parted, with the understand- 
 ing that Don Miguel would come back very soon, and in 
 the meantime he would ascertain, by some means at his 
 command, whether there was any hidden treasure in the 
 neighborhood. 
 
 Having prepared the Podesta in this manner, and per- 
 ceiving that his plans had turned out well, he resolved not 
 to lose time, but to set the trap at once. He went for 
 Boscherino, and told him that he needed his assistance in 
 the Duke's service. He, who at the bare mention of Va- 
 lentino's name trembled like an aspen leaf, replied, without 
 even asking in what kind of business he was to engage : 
 " I am ready." Don Miguel, without telling him any 
 more, said to him : " Wait for me outside the gates which 
 lead to the bridge of Sant' Orsola." The commander of 
 the French troops having agreed to the truce, the soldiers 
 enjoyed the privilege of roaming around the country. 
 Boscherino was punctual at the rendezvous, and so was 
 his guide, who overtook him with a bundle under his arm. 
 
 If the reader had any wish to follow these two men, he 
 would see them walking along the shore to the distance 
 of about a mile beyond the bridge which unites the island 
 to the main land, then turning to the left, enter the dense
 
 134 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 thickets of a lonely valley, and halt at a little old church, 
 now abandoned, but formerly belonging to a cemetery. 
 But, to avoid the tediousness of travelling over the same 
 road twice, we will postpone our journey thither until 
 night. 
 
 About two hours before sundown, Don Miguel made 
 his appearance alone in the public square, approached 
 the Podesta, who was standing at the barber's shop, and 
 whispered to him : 
 
 " The place is found. I will be at the door of your 
 house this evening at the hour of three. Do not keep me 
 waiting." 
 
 And truly, at the appointed hour Don Miguel was at 
 the door. The Podesta came out, shut the door again as 
 gently as he could, and moving on in silence, with light 
 steps, through streets and lanes, in total darkness there 
 were no street lamps in those times they soon were out 
 of town. 
 
 On, on they went. They heard the clock strike four 
 from the castle, but the sound was heavy, subdued as it 
 were by the wind which carried it. They had already 
 passed Sant' Orsola, and, ascending from the shore, were 
 approaching the rickety old church. It was a deserted 
 tract, barren, covered only with clumps of dwarf brambles, 
 which became more and more wild as they grew. The 
 path they had followed was soon lost in sand, in which 
 they sank above their ankles ; now and then they came 
 across beds of torrents, dry, and full of gravel and of 
 large stones rolled on by the waters ; but the two travel- 
 lers, as they overcame all these obstacles, were in a very 
 different mood of mind. 
 
 Don Miguel, accustomed to travel more at night than 
 by daylight, proceeded with a sure step. His companion,
 
 ETTOKE FIERAMOSCA. 135 
 
 who had not perhaps been out of town after sunset twice 
 in his whole life, felt his breath growing thick, looked 
 around, and in his own mind cursed the moment he had 
 left his house ; and, to tell the truth, he had left it in an 
 evil hour. His imagination became excited, and his heart 
 was a prey to a thousand fears, not the least of which 
 was, that he was alone, away from any house, and in com- 
 pany with a man of whom, after all, he knew absolutely 
 nothing. 
 
 Still, from time to time, he endeavored to feign courage, 
 and hummed three or four syllables he could not 
 muster strength enough for a fifth one ; then he imag- 
 ined he heard some noise from the thickets ; once in the 
 light of a clouded moon he thought he saw the figure of 
 a man lurking in the shadow, but it afterwards proved 
 to be the trunk of a tree or a rock ; then again he appre- 
 hended he might meet some form or vision of depaiied 
 spirits, and would mentally repeat some prayer. In this 
 happy frame of mind they emerged from the underwood 
 into open space, in the midst of which the little church 
 stood. 
 
 Outside the door were painted skeletons, bolt upright, 
 with mitres, tiaras, and crowns on their heads, and hold- 
 ing in their hands flying scrolls, on which were written 
 Latin verses, such as Beati mortui qui in Domino mo- 
 riuntur, or Miseremini mei, etc. ; and although in the 
 moonlight the letters could scarcely be read, still the forms 
 of those figures which were plainly visible produced a 
 great impression. Don Miguel took out a lantern, and 
 was about stepping over the threshold. The Podesta 
 had stopped a few paces behind, and understanding the 
 intention of his companion, let the exclamation " here ! " 
 escape from his lips in a tone so plaintive and so full of
 
 136 ETTORE FIEEAMOSCA. 
 
 terror, that the thin and livid lips of Don Miguel curled 
 with a smile. 
 
 " It befits us now to have a stout heart, Signor Podesta, 
 because in such places as these nothing is obtained by 
 fear ; on the contrary, fear might prove the source of seri- 
 ous evils. Your friend is at work in the name of God, 
 and to prove to you that in that name only he controls 
 the souls of the departed, let us begin with prayer." 
 
 He knelt down, and began to run through the Miserere, 
 and the Dies Irce, to which Don Litterio endeavored to 
 answer as well as he could, vowing in his own heart, that 
 if he came out of the adventure alive, he would keep a 
 strict fast on the eve of All-Souls. When they had done 
 praying they arose. The shattered and rotten door, which 
 scarcely kept together on the rusty hinges, yielded, and 
 almost fell to the floor at a kick from Don Miguel's foot. 
 In advancing, their clothes were torn by the tangled briars 
 which encumbered the entrance. 
 
 Bones of the dead were scattered all over the floor. 
 A bier crumbling to pieces and reduced to dust by the 
 wood-worms, together with some spades, huddled together 
 in a corner, and used God alone knows when, were the 
 only furniture in the place. Hundreds of bats, startled 
 by the light carried by the intruders, flew around in great 
 confusion, with shrieks, flapping their wings against the 
 walls, and at last took refuge in a Gothic steeple, which 
 arose at the side of the altar. 
 
 The place, the solitude, and the late hour, if they were 
 not such circumstances as to strike with terror, were un- 
 doubtedly calculated to inspire any one with profound 
 solemnity ; and the unfortunate Don Litterio, who when 
 the sun was high above the horizon had thought of the 
 moment without any fear, now when he found himself in
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 137 
 
 the situation, realized most distinctly the difference be- 
 tween words and deeds. 
 
 He was looking at the bones under his feet, at the 
 walls green with dampness, and in different places still 
 covered with old paintings ; and there he stood, upright, 
 in the centre, with his hands clasped together, waiting for 
 the end of this infernal mystery. 
 
 Don Miguel placed on the floor a little bundle he had 
 carried with him. He took out a conjuring book, and 
 having put on a black stole, marked all over with caba- 
 listic characters, began with a rod to mark a circle, ac- 
 companying the action with a thousand mummeries. He 
 marked an entrance in the circle, and told the Podesta to 
 pass through it with the left foot foremost. He then took 
 up the pentacle in his hand, and began to mutter words 
 in Greek, Latin, and Hebrew, now calling on hundreds 
 of demons by virtue of the Eternal, now raising and 
 again lowering the tones of his voice, and at times making 
 pauses, during which the echoes of his words died away, 
 rumbling through the vault. Some bat would occasionally 
 dash by the cheeks of Don Litterio, who stood there 
 shrinking and shaking, the very image of despair. He 
 feared lest the originals of those pictures on the walls 
 outside might, at any moment, come out of their graves, 
 and he prayed to God in good eacnest to have mercy on 
 him, and to render fruitless the incantations of his terrible 
 companion. 
 
 As he was there on his knees recommending himself 
 to God, he felt a tap on the shoulder ; he raised his eyes 
 and saw a lurid light shining from the corner under the 
 steeple, and a human form, wrapped in a winding-sheet, 
 such as dead bodies are covered with, slowly emerging 
 from a hole.
 
 138 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 The apparition stood motionless, and we need not say 
 how the Mayor remained. Don Miguel stooped down to 
 his ear, and said to him : 
 
 " Hallo ! have courage ; now is the moment to show 
 yourself a man of stout heart ; quick, be up, ask what 
 you wish." But to no avail ; the Podesta could neither 
 move, nor answer, nor even breathe. 
 
 Don Miguel then spoke a few words of an unknown 
 tongue to the apparition, which made no answer, but slow- 
 ly raised its arm, pointing to a tomb the stone of which 
 had already been half removed. 
 
 " Do you understand ? He means that if we dig there 
 we shall find as many florins as will satisfy us." 
 
 But the wretch seemed not to hear. Seeing that there 
 was no hope of rousing him, Don Miguel went to the 
 tomb, and very easily let himself down. In a little while 
 he came out with an earthern vessel half covered with 
 dirt, and approaching the spot to which the Podesta was 
 rivetted, emptied before him a large sum of golden coins, 
 or such as at least appeared to be gold, which fell on the 
 ground without having any virtue to bring the breath 
 back to him who had exposed himself to so much hard- 
 ship to obtain them. 
 
 The last coin had scarcely fallen on the heap, when 
 the door was burst open and fell with a crash on the 
 floor, and in bolted fifteen or twenty ribald fellows armed 
 with pikes and partisans. To point their weapons at 
 the breasts and throats of the two men was the work of 
 an instant. 
 
 Don Miguel had scarcely time to grasp with his hand 
 the hilt of his sword, when, feeling four or five blades 
 ripping his cape and pricking his skin, he was obliged to 
 keep still, otherwise he would have been dispatched.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 139 
 
 The Podesta was already so much frightened, that this 
 new occurrence made no impression whatever on him. 
 There he remained with his eyes distorted, his head sunk 
 between his shoulders, his hands clasped, and with an 
 involuntary movement, pressing together those fingers 
 of his, long and emaciated, so violently, that the nails 
 entered the skin, and said with a voice half choked : 
 " Kill me not, I am in mortal sin." * 
 
 The lantern had been upturned in the confusion, and 
 threw its light upon that strange company, which, (hav- 
 ing for a moment remained still, to make sure that the two 
 prisoners could not and would not defend themselves,) 
 appeared composed of that sort of infamous outlaws, 
 who in those times were called adventurers. We now 
 call them assassins, and in fact they were nothing else in 
 that age ; but that name was given then, to designate those 
 bands composed for the most part of soldiers who had 
 deserted their standards to unite under one chief, and 
 who pillaged the country around, doing as much evil as 
 they had opportunity. 
 
 Some were protected with cuirasses, some had on 
 headpieces of iron, others were armed with poniards or 
 knives ; many wore hats in the shape of cones, over 
 which were seen flying plumes or ribbons. Many wore 
 sandals of goat-skin, instead of shoes, to be better enabled 
 to climb mountains. 
 
 We need not portray their faces. Seen by the light 
 of that lantern, with bear-ds and moustaches of great 
 length, unkempt and uncombed, they looked like so many 
 devils let loose. 
 
 * Even at the present day the brigands in the Campagna Romana 
 make an appeal like this to escape death at the hands of those whom 
 they have attacked ou the highways. The author remembers an as- 
 sassin who, by an appeal of this kind, saved himself from being killed.
 
 140 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 One among them, dashing on the floor the partisan he 
 held at the throat of the Podesta, snatched from him and 
 his companion the arms they had at their sides, and shook 
 their garments to see whether they had any more weap- 
 ons concealed on their persons. 
 
 During the melee, the apparition, throwing away the 
 sheet, had become a man of this world again, and feeling 
 that there was no time to lose, had climbed up the stee- 
 ple, and sitting on a joist, holding himself fast by some 
 projecting stones, was on the alert waiting for a propi- 
 tious moment to make his escape ; and thus concealed 
 in the dark, he was able to watch the proceedings of that 
 night of horrors. 
 
 Meantime, the chief of those outlaws, a youth of about 
 seventeen, but of fearful countenance, of robust frame, 
 having a scar which ran the whole length of his forehead 
 and raised the eyebrows an inch higher, swung such a 
 kick into the sides of the Podesta, in order to make him 
 rise, that he gave a moan like one who had lost the 
 power of speech. No better specific could be adopted to 
 cure him of his astonishment ; he rose, not waiting for a 
 second dose, and being drawn to one side with Don Mi- 
 guel, they were tied up and placed under guard of some 
 of the band, while the others were taking up and count- 
 ing the gold by the light of the lantern. After doing this, 
 they placed their booty in a leathern pouch, which the 
 chieftain carried at his belt, and all went out, taking their 
 prisoners in the midst, and warning them, in such cour- 
 teous terms as only themselves could command, that they 
 should walk fast if they wished not to taste the points of 
 their daggers. 
 
 After having proceeded half a mile up the hill, they 
 halted at a place where there was no trace whatever of 
 any path, and blindfolded both their captives.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 141 
 
 The fright had made the Podesta recover his voice, 
 and he begged for mercy like a child ; the outlaws made 
 merry at his expense, but did not hurt him. 
 
 But Don Miguel, who, during that respite, thought of 
 the worst that might happen, muttered between his teeth : 
 
 " By , we have got it ! " He attempted to enter 
 
 into some treaty, in order to be released; but as he 
 uttered the first word, a blow from a fist which made 
 him swallow a couple of his teeth, hushed his voice. As 
 he could neither see nor talk, he listened intently. He 
 heard the thieves talking of dividing the money ; they 
 spoke also of a ransom, and debated among themselves 
 which of the two would bring more money. From the 
 discordant accents, which seemed to belong to various 
 dialects, all Italian however, he took notice of one 
 which had a foreign sound, and he took it for Ger- 
 man ; but in the .midst of his observations, he felt him- 
 self lifted up by many arms, and then placed on the 
 shoulders of two men, who seemed to go in a different 
 direction from the company, but whither he could not 
 divine. 
 
 They travelled more than an hour, with many halts, 
 during which the prisoners were thrown down not very 
 gently, while the carriers rested. Don Miguel began 
 greatly to dislike the game ; he had^ great horror, very 
 natural even to a man of courage, of being butchered 
 like a dog by those ruffians ; and it was no joke to be 
 tied up so tightly, and to be carried on the backs of 
 those soldiers, his limbs resting on the pointed angles of 
 their armor. 
 
 At last they came to a standstill. A heavy door was 
 heard to open. They entered, and the door closed again 
 on its hinges behind their backs. Here the shackles
 
 142 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 were taken from Don Miguel, the bandage from his eyes, 
 and he found himself in a room, into which a little light 
 of the moon found its way through a fissure. In a cor- 
 ner there was a door, low and heavy, well guarded 
 with bolts. It was opened, and a voice gave order to 
 Don Miguel to go in. He stooped to enter, and while 
 he stepped forward, feeling with his foot whether there 
 were steps, a thrust from the butt of a pike behind, sent 
 him sooner than he wished to the bottom of the narrow 
 stairs, and with so much hurry that he could not reckon 
 with himself as to the number of steps he had descended. 
 A heavy bolt which was drawn across the door with a 
 grating noise, convinced Don Miguel that he would have 
 no chance of making his escape by the way he had en- 
 tered. 
 
 The place was entirely dark. He first felt of his 
 mouth, which ached exceedingly from the blow he had 
 received ; his hands were moist, (of course he knew it 
 was blood,) and he discovered that from that day for- 
 ward he would have to depend not on thirty-two, but only 
 on thirty teeth. 
 
 " Had the devil done his duty, and choked thee along 
 with thy father, these would not have been sown in the 
 woods." Such was the remark he made thinking of him 
 who had put him up to that undertaking. 
 
 Still he endeavored to encourage himself, and groping 
 about the place with outstretched arms, he tried to find 
 out what, kind of a place he was in. He perceived that 
 a little light entered from a hole high up ; and he thought 
 he heard the sea dashing against the exterior Avail. 
 With his feet he felt there was some straw in a corner ; 
 he threw himself down upon it, and disposed himself to 
 await the issue of his adventures.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE reader needs not to be told that it was the capo- 
 squadra Boscherino who had personated the phantom 
 under the steeple. 
 
 But we must inform him how it happened that a band 
 of adventurers was ready at hand to interrupt the plans 
 of Don Miguel. It happened thus : 
 
 Don Litterio had a handsome and buxom servant 
 maid, whose presence in the family had made people 
 entertain serious doubts about the integrity of his con- 
 nubial faith. The girl had humored the quinquagen- 
 arian advances of the master, but had not been proof 
 against the addresses of a groom who lived in the house. 
 Through the channel of this love the secret of the mas- 
 ter's going that night to dig a treasure, was communicated 
 to the groom. 
 
 He had friends among the men of the band of Pietrac- 
 cio this was the name of the chief outlaw, and he 
 imparted to them the communication on such terms that 
 if the treasure were found, he should have part of it, 
 instead of its going wholly into the master's pockets. 
 
 It now becomes necessary, before we join company 
 with Don Miguel again, to give to the reader an account 
 of the places in which the scenes, which we are about to 
 relate, were enacted. 
 
 At the head of the bridge, which led to the little island
 
 144 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 of Sant' Orsola, stood a tower, square, massive, and very 
 much like that seen by travellers on Ponte Nomentano 
 as they go from Rome to Sabina. The issue from the 
 bridge was guarded by a heavy gate, a portcullis which 
 was let down as the occasion might require, and a draw- 
 bridge. A narrow winding stair led the way to two 
 stories above in which a commander and his soldiers 
 were lodged, and on the top there was a terrace, fringed 
 with merlons, from amidst which the muzzles of two fal- 
 conets were seen protruding. 
 
 The Abbess of the Monastery, invested with baronial 
 rights, kept there a company of eighty men on foot, pikes 
 and arquebuses, over whom commanded one Martin 
 Schwarzenbach, a German, an adventurer, who found it 
 better for his interest to lead a lazy life at that post, well 
 paid and better fed, than to go about periling his life in 
 battles and campaigns, in which his experience had 
 taught him that oftentimes the pleasure of ill using and 
 robbing people had been marred by a bullet from an 
 arquebuse, or by the blade of a partisan. He had three 
 ruling passions : to keep aloof from blows, to steal, and 
 to drink as much wine of Puglia, as could be poured into 
 his belly, which in capacity was not very unlike a barrel. 
 
 You might have read in his countenance these habits 
 of his life ; the first two in a pair of eyes equally full of 
 covetousness and cowardice ; the latter in a flaming ver- 
 milion color, which, while the rest of his face was of a 
 livid paleness, was concentrated entirely in his nose and 
 cheeks. His beard was thin, and in color like that of 
 a goat, the lips of a purple hue, and his body seemed 
 built for the fatigue of a soldier's life, had not his de- 
 bauched habits broken down at the age of forty years a 
 frame that might have lasted to that of seventy.
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 145 
 
 All the duties of this man's life consisted in closing the 
 gate at night. There was nothing to fear from the troops 
 then at war in the neighborhood ; they had no hostile in- 
 tentions against the Monastery. The bands of outlaws 
 who overran the country would not have dared to attack 
 a strong tower guarded by eighty men and two falconets. 
 But there was also another reason why Martin Schwar- 
 zenbach should not fear any interruption in his slumbers, 
 although he was surrounded by such swarms of ruffians. 
 The Abbess had hired him to guard the monastery ; but 
 he did not believe that he was thereby bound to be the 
 guardian and protector of the ducats, the florins, goods, 
 and chattels of the people living in the neighborhood, or 
 of the property of those who happened to travel through 
 it. However, as he could not with any decency go and 
 dive into the pockets of the people, he had (to use a 
 modern phrase) taken a share in the stock managed by 
 Petraccio, and lent him aid, detailing some of his men 
 to help him, as the occasion might require. He would 
 secrete money, goods, and even persons, whenever there 
 was a prospect of rich ransom. 
 
 And these operations were carried on so cautiously 
 that the sufferers would lay charges on any one but Mar- 
 tin, who was only looked upon as the greatest toper of the 
 land. 
 
 Don Miguel had now fallen into this man's- clutches. 
 He had been raking his brains the whole night to guess 
 what place he was in, but could not come to any satis- 
 factory conclusion. At the first break of day he had 
 heard the guns from the rock of Barletta fire three 
 times, as was the custom every morning ; he endeavored 
 to climb up to the loop-hole, through which a little light 
 entered into the dungeon, but the spiracle was so much
 
 146 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 encumbered with ivy that only a small tract of the waters 
 could be seen. In a little while he saw the gardener of 
 Sant' Orsola rowing a small boat with a load of vege- 
 tables ; then he felt sure that he was in the dungeons 
 of the tower guarding the entrance to the Monastery. 
 
 Just as he had let himself down from his uncomforta- 
 ble position, the prison-door was opened, and two of the 
 ruffians on guard at the tower ordered him out, to appear 
 before the Captain. 
 
 That worthy was half roused from his sleep, and being 
 still undressed, sat on the side of a couch with a desk 
 before him, encumbered with the remnants of a late 
 carousal. There was a rack running all along the wall 
 on which were hung pikes, cross-bows, arquebuses, iron 
 coats-of-mail, and arms of various kinds. He looked at 
 Don Miguel as he entered, squinting his eyes as if he 
 found hard work to uplift the flabby and wrinkled eye- 
 lids ; and beating time on the floor with the heel of one 
 of his shoes, he said to him, 
 
 " Thou must know, Sir Thou, as I don't know thy 
 name, that whoever spends a night at my inn must pay 
 a hundred golden florins, of ten livres each, of the alloy 
 of the mint of Florence, or of San Marco, just as he 
 pleases. Otherwise a rope with a stone at his neck, and 
 a bath in the sea, will take him his way scot-free. 
 Which dost thou prefer ? " 
 
 " What will be the best for me will not prove the 
 same to thee ; " was the dignified reply of Don Miguel. 
 "Yesterday evening, you took two of us prisoners, but 
 we were not alone in the small chapel. There was some 
 one whom you have not seen ; but he has seen thy party 
 and he knows thee, and thy ruffian deeds are known in 
 Barletta by this hour ; and in a short time, thou, not I,
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 147 
 
 will have to bathe in the sea, unless, however, thou dost 
 know how to prevent three or four hundred Catalans or 
 Stradiotti from breaking down the gate of this tower, or 
 unless thou canst prevail on them to hang thee from one 
 of yon merlons, instead of wedding thee to the water, 
 which, as I perceive, thou wouldst taste for the first time 
 in thy life." 
 
 The last idea was suggested to him at the sight of a 
 quarter cask of wine, which was kept by the German 
 at the head of his bed, in place of cross or relics. 
 A reply given with so much arrogance, raised the 
 anger of the constable, who, pulling his cap over his eyes, 
 said, 
 
 " If thou thinkest that thou art dealing with a boy, and 
 can frighten me with thy bravadoes, I will tell thee, at first, 
 that I believe thee not, and then even were thy Albani- 
 ans, or whatever the devil thou dost call them, to come, I 
 am in a position not to fear them, or the water, or the 
 merlons. . . . And I don't know what keeps me from 
 having thee hooked by the throat. But I prefer the 
 sound of thy florins, rather than to let the crows come 
 and pick at thy eyes. Then let us come to it and be- 
 stir ; there are the implements for writing ; order the 
 cash to be paid, and then go where thy ill luck will carry 
 thee." 
 
 Don Miguel did not appear to be in a hurry to reply, 
 but he looked at the man with the attitude of one, who 
 fearing naught for himself, was still in doubt whether he 
 should take the matter as a joke or in earnest. The 
 Captain began to show anger, and seemed to be inclined 
 to carry out his threats, but at last Don Miguel re- 
 plied : 
 
 " Constable, thou likest florins, and wine pleases thee
 
 148 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 also ; thou must needs be a boon companion. Of course, 
 that is always the case with a good soldier ; mischiev- 
 ous, a glutton, and without devotion. But what the 
 devil makes you so cross ? Listen, we must be good 
 friends. True, thou shouldst be made to pay for the 
 night thou hast given me ; and were it not . . . well, 
 I pardon thee, and in its stead I will put thee in the way 
 of making money." Here he turned towards the two 
 men, who had led him in, and held him still by the arms. 
 " Say, my lads, have you nothing to do ? You keep 
 here at my shoulders like the two thieves by our Lord ! 
 Go, my boy," he added, disentangling himself from one 
 of them, and slapping him playfully on the cheek ; then 
 ridding himself of the other in the same way : " Go, be- 
 gone thou also, there is no need of thee ; I can stand by 
 myself. Meanwhile go and keep a look-out on the Bar- 
 letta road, see if any body is coming. It takes so long 
 to arrange a little business with this lord of yours ! You 
 see yourselves I have no arms about me, and I do not 
 mean to swallow him with an empty stomach ; marry, 
 it would take a stomach far worse than yours." 
 
 The soldiers were puzzled at so great assurance, as 
 much as Martino was, and they looked up to him to read 
 his thoughts about the matter. He nodded with his head, 
 and the soldiers left. But when he found himself alone 
 with Don Miguel, he took the precaution of standing up, 
 and he kept his sword within reach. 
 
 " Conestabile ! thou hast asked a hundred florins in ran- 
 som for my person ; I did not think I should be valued at 
 so low a rate ; and to teach thee how to value the like of 
 me, I offer thee two hundred ! " The Teuton opened his 
 eyes wide, and his mouth was watering. " Yes, two hun- 
 dred, and this would be the least. . . . Hadst thou the
 
 ETTOUE FIERAMOSCA. 149 
 
 appeai'ance of a man on whom I could rely for judgment 
 and fidelity, I would put thee in the way to strike a good 
 blow, eh ! But it is out of the question ; it needs a man 
 quick to act, of ready words, silent in the proper time, 
 in a word, not a man with a parsnip face and those two 
 dead eyes of thine, which have as much meaning as mush 
 seasoned with oil." 
 
 Martin thought he was dreaming as he listened to 
 words of so much impertinence, and he indulged in a 
 thousand suspicions that perhaps he had in his power a 
 prince or some great man in disguise ; but he could not 
 rest on any thought, and unable to bear being made so 
 little of, in his own court, answered, 
 
 " But in the name of God, or the Devil's may he 
 carry you ! who are you ? what do you want ? Speak, 
 because I am tired, and I am no man's fool." 
 
 " Easy, easy, and have good manners, because if I get 
 angry, I'll say no more, and it will be the worse for 
 you. Know then ..." 
 
 A soldier entered, and interrupted Don Miguel, say- 
 ing. 
 
 " Conestabile ! there is dust rising on the road from 
 Barletta ; they appear to be mounted men ; at least so 
 says Sandro, who can see the farthest of all." 
 
 The German was roused, looked at the prisoner, who 
 smiled maliciously, and remarked, 
 
 " There ! I have sold you. But have no fear. Be on 
 the alert ! and it will end well. Go," he added to the 
 soldier ; " and if there is any news, let us know it. Then, 
 as I was telling you, know that there is a person in yon 
 monastery, who would much rather be out in the world 
 enjoying herself, than be forever stumbling against crosses 
 and blessed candles ; I need not mention to you by whom
 
 150 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 she is kept there. "We must go to work in a careful way. 
 If then, some night or other, a boat should approach these 
 shores with five or six men for the purpose of setting her 
 free, and the Conestabile should hear some dogs bark, 
 and some slender voice cry for mercy, (thou knowest 
 well that women always cry two hours before they are 
 touched,) let him not be disturbed, let him imagine it was 
 a dream, turn over the other side, and keep on snoring ; 
 and this little service will bring to him, as if rained from 
 the skies, five hundred new florins from the mint of San 
 Marco, or from that of the lily, just as he likes : and 
 morever it might give him a commission far better than 
 the one he has now from these devotees." Such an offer 
 placed poor Martin in great danger of losing the only 
 good quality he had mixed with so much badness, namely, 
 that of being faithful to those who paid him. But that 
 law by which nothing in this world can be perfectly good 
 and nothing totally bad, saved him from a total wreck, and 
 he made a reply with the intention of showing resent- 
 ment; but his words betrayed disappointment rather 
 than anger: 
 
 " Martin Schwarzenbach has held commissions in Mi- 
 lan, Venice, and from the Emperor, and never has he 
 betrayed his employers. The Abbess of Sant' Orsola 
 has paid him in full to the last day of December 1503. 
 If your honor is some . . . how do I know ? . . . some 
 Signore . . . or if you are making levies for some Italian 
 prince, and you wish to hire me, well, let us talk about 
 it ; I will parade my company in your presence ; they 
 are thirty muskets and fifty pikes, and all of the age from 
 twenty to forty ; and as regards the quality of the armor, 
 you would not miss the tongue of a buckle. If we can 
 agree on terms, we will be ready for you on the 1st of
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 151 
 
 January 1504, if you wish it, and will storm the Monastery 
 and carry them all off, even to the cook. But before that 
 time, as long as I have a charge of powder, or the blade 
 of a stiletto, no person will harm one hair on the head of 
 the nuns or of the last lay-sister." 
 
 " And can you, Sir Martin, believe for a moment that 
 I do not know what the duties of a man of your station in 
 life are ? Can you believe that I would dare to make 
 such an infamous proposition to you ? You don't know 
 me. The person of whom I speak is neither nun nor 
 lay-sister, and she is just as much connected with the 
 monastery as the barrel which you keep there at your 
 nose. God bless your soul ! you must be a clever man 
 indeed, when you know that only a fool will run when he 
 can as well walk at his ease ; and when you can slumber 
 away snugly indoors with half a goblet of Greek wine, 
 you must be crazy to prefer sleeping in the open air and 
 with a cold stomach ; and when it falls in your way to 
 pocket five hundred florins without labor, with the good 
 will of others, and with no offence to God, you must think 
 that such good chances will not be as plenty as berries. 
 . . . Well, if there is any sense left in you, we can 
 arrange matters ; make up your mind, because these 
 horsemen will be here before long." 
 
 Like most honest men, Martin could compromise 
 with his virtue ; so he replied : 
 
 " If there is no question of nuns, then it is quite 
 another affair." 
 
 Don Miguel was debating in his own mind whether 
 he should then reveal the name of the woman whom he 
 wished to abduct ; but while there was a lull in their con- 
 versation, they were interrupted by an altercation going on 
 at the door of the room, between two soldiers and an old 
 woman.
 
 152 KTTOIIE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 " The devil choke thee, accursed hunchback ; no matter 
 who is inside, it is no business of thine ; the Conestabile 
 has other affaii-s to attend to than to listen to thee." 
 
 Such was the loud I'eply made by one of the soldiers to 
 an old woman, whom he endeavored to keep away from 
 the door ; she was of small size, very much crooked, 
 and had two eyes of the color of mother-of-pearl set in 
 scarlet. She was half inside the door ; but the soldier 
 had still hold of her at that point where the neck joins 
 with the shoulders, and pulled the skin so that her mouth 
 had become distorted on one side the length of three 
 inches. The old wench scratched the soldier's hand with 
 her fingers which seemed made of steel, and thereupon 
 he let go his hold so suddenly that she fell like a re- 
 leased spring on Don Miguel, on whom she upheld her- 
 self, and thus was saved from a blow aimed at her back 
 by the soldier's fist, and it was by good luck alone that she 
 escaped it. 
 
 "Take that, thou bastard," she said, turning to the 
 soldier, who sucking the blood from the scratch she had 
 inflicted upon his hand, looked at her as a mastiff does at 
 a cat who has scarred its nose. " Take that ; and if you 
 try it again, you shall fare worse." 
 
 " And thou, ugly witch, try it again when I'm on guard 
 . . . Sandro mio, bless thy soul ; " (these words he 
 uttered, pursing the under lip over the upper one, mimick- 
 ing the old woman,) " let me enter the monastery . . . 
 only to say one word to the sister at the gate, to give a 
 little lint for Scannaprete who is wounded, and a little 
 powder for Paciocco, who is taken with the fever . . . 
 a little cancer" (here he resumed his natural tone of 
 voice) " that might strangle thee ! Try it again, try it, 
 and see how thou wilt like it. May they tear my tongue
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 153 
 
 from the very roots, as Valenza, God bless him! had 
 them uprooted from thy ribald father's throat, if I do 
 not dispatch thee with a benison thou so fully deservest, 
 thou witch of St. John's night." 
 
 The beldam had plenty of matter for a reply, and there- 
 fore preferred not to violate one of the fundamental rules 
 of the feminine code, which prescribes that women should 
 ever be the last to speak, but she was hurried on by 
 matters of great importance, so she turned her back on 
 Sandro with an air of scorn which can better be imag- 
 ined than described. 
 
 " If you don't take the matter in hand," she said, ad- 
 dressing the conestabile, " it will be a queer dance ; all 
 hell was in the woods last night. The men who were 
 out returned at one hour before dayh'ght. They had with 
 them that ugly Christian, who was captured yesterday 
 evening . . . Virgin ! he looked as if he had been dead 
 these three days. But he was not kept long in fear. 
 Pietraccio has ripped him open as he would a young 
 kid." 
 
 " What ? " exclaimed Martin and Don Miguel, both 
 speaking at one time ; " have they killed the Podesta ? 
 why ? where ? how ? . . ." 
 
 " "What can I tell you ? My blessed Virgin ! Pietrac- 
 cio was trying to make him understand that he would 
 have to pay I cannot say how many ducats for his ran- 
 som ; and you know very well no one can make himself 
 understood without a tongue. The man stood there with 
 his eyes set, glassy ; and he had the appearance of a man 
 more dead than alive. The master then wrote on a 
 paper what he wanted, and gave it to him to read. 
 Worse than ever. He looked like St. Rochus's statue in 
 the Belfiore Chapel. Then Pietraccio gave him three or 
 
 7*
 
 154 ETTOEE FIKRAMOSCA. 
 
 four slaps on the face, and they had a weight, I assure 
 you ! No use, not the least. At last he grew mad . . 
 and you know what he is when he is mad ! . . . Down he 
 came upon him with uplifted hand, and plunged the hanger 
 here in the pit of the stomach. There is no need of tell- 
 ing it ; you know how he can work with a knife ; he will 
 put to shame even older hands. But what can you do ? 
 he is a bad boy ! I told his mother so, often ! ' Ghi- 
 ta ! that boy is growing up too ready with his hand ; ' 
 byt we cannot make him change his ways." 
 
 These particulars, and the style of rendering them, made 
 the two listeners start, although from different motives, 
 and they could make no reply. 
 
 The old woman went on : u Now I will tell you the 
 rest, and then I will go ; I have been on my feet since 
 yesterday. We were lying down to take an hour's rest ; 
 and lo ! Cocco d'Oro comes running out of breath : ' Up, 
 quick, quick, the sheriff, a band of policemen ! ' . . . AVe 
 start ; what do you think ? They were already under 
 Malagrotta, and they were advancing post-haste, and we 
 running for dear life up the mountain. At this moment 
 our people are all shut up in the cave of Focognano, with- 
 out a morsel of bread or a drop of water ; and there are 
 about two hundred between soldiers and bailiffs scouring 
 the woods. May God forbid our men should get la man- 
 da prima delle feste* Up with you, make haste, try to 
 remedy the evil . . . they must have found the body of the 
 Podesta . . . Holy Virgin ! what a ruin is coming upon 
 
 * We are at a loss how to render this Italian proverb, which al- 
 ludes to the custom prevailing in Italy with people to call on those 
 on whom they depend, or by whom they are employed, at Christmas 
 and Easter, to offer the compliments of the season, and to receive the 
 present of some money. Literally: Tlieir Christmas gift before Clu-ist- 
 mas arrives.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 155 
 
 us ! and Ghita says do not forget that there is noth- 
 ing up there to whet their teeth with ; so send up some 
 as soon as you can. ' 
 
 Uttering all this in one breath, she saw on the table the 
 remnants of the supper, and gathering them up with 
 great haste, without asking permission, filled her apron 
 witli bread, pieces of meat, and fruits ; the wine left on 
 the table she emptied into a gourd she carried at her side, 
 drank what she could not pour in there, and wiping her 
 mouth with the back of her hand, turned around, gave a 
 push to Sandro to clear her way, and without even say- 
 ing " by your leave, sirs," went out. 
 
 Martin had a great deal more business on hand, than 
 his head Avas able to attend to. With one hand at his 
 beard, and the other behind his back, he paced the room 
 up and down, shaking his head and puffing. The fact 
 that Don Miguel had foreseen with so much certainty the 
 sudden start of the troops from Barletta, made Martin 
 have faith in him, and he began to think that the captive 
 was actually the great man he passed himself for. 
 
 He thought that before all it would be necessary to 
 come to terms with Don Miguel, lest he should betray 
 him when those who were in search of the murderers of 
 the Podesta appeared at the tower. Thus, having thrown 
 aside his haughtiness, and with expressions which sounded 
 very much like recommending himself, he told the stranger 
 to look upon him as one devotedly at his service, promis- 
 ing that he would lend him aid in everything he might 
 wish. 
 
 Scarcely had this been agreed upon, when they heard 
 the tramp of many horses, just entering the bridge ; and 
 a clear voice, sounding like a trumpet, called out several 
 times : " Conestabile Schwarzenbach ! " He descended,
 
 156 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 and was met by Fieramosca and Fanfulla da Lodi, at the 
 head of a troop of horsemen. 
 
 The reader remembers, perhaps, that the latter had 
 been selected for one of the chosen champions of the 
 Italian army. 
 
 A more desperate soul than his could not be picked out 
 of all the armed bodies then in Italy. He would expose 
 his life to any peril for the most frivolous cause, and often 
 even without any cause at all. With a head devoid of 
 all thought, he gave his attention to pleasure, and used 
 his hands when necessary. He was as nimble as a 
 leopard, the tissue of his nerves perfect, his body supple 
 and well compacted ; and it seemed as if nature, knowing 
 that it was to be the abode of a soul endowed with a 
 boldness bordering on insanity, had taken pains to mould 
 it so that it might be proof against the most perilous ad- 
 ventures. He was the son of a man, who had been in 
 the pay of Girolamo Klano, had been brought up amid 
 the din of arms from his infancy, and had been in the 
 service of all the Italian States ; because, either for quar- 
 relling, or for misdemeanor, or often through his own in- 
 constancy, he was forever in quest of new masters. He 
 had been lately in the service of the Florentines, and he 
 had fled their banners for the reason we are going to 
 state. 
 
 When at the siege of Pisa, the storming of the city was 
 attempted, if Paolo Vitelli, captain of the Florentine 
 troops, had not ordered a retreat, and checked his sol- 
 diers, who were full of ardor, from pursuing the advan- 
 tage of the first assault, Pisa would have certainly fallen 
 that day. Vitelli was afterward summoned before a 
 court, indicted for treason, and, as every one knows, 
 condemned to death. Fanfulla, who was always ahead
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 157 
 
 in every undertaking, had succeeded in climbing up a 
 ladder, and in taking hold of one of the merlons ; there, 
 whirling around his sword and clearing the way, he had 
 already gained the rampart, and there he showered around 
 such thrusts and passes and stabs and desperate blows, 
 that the rest might have followed him with comparative 
 ease. 
 
 At this moment, the retreat was sounded, and he was 
 left alone. He could not brook the idea of retreating ; 
 but at last he came down, mad with fury, yelling with 
 rage, under a pelting storm of arrows, stones, and shots, 
 
 none of which, however, harmed -him in the least ; 
 and he reentered the camp safe and sound, running like a 
 madman, and insulting every one he met in his way. In 
 the Captain's tent the Florentine Commissioners were 
 deliberating in council with Vitelli. Fanfulla dashed 
 into their midst, and, in a tower of rage, called them trai- 
 tors ; and with a club which he had picked up on the 
 way, he began to hail upon them blows from his stick, 
 from his hands, from his toes ; pushing them ; thrusting 
 them ; knocking them down ; giving no quarters ; listen- 
 ing to no entreaties ; caring not how, where, and whom 
 he hit. And what with the great power of his arm, and 
 the suddenness of the attack, he made such a rout among 
 them, that they found themselves on the floor in an in- 
 describable uproar before they could even think who the 
 author of the attack might be. 
 
 After an exploit of this sort, he jumped on a horse, 
 
 without taking leave, as we may well imagine, and 
 was already at a good distance from the camp, when the 
 chieftains, having got on their feet again, began to think 
 of arresting him. 
 
 Having thus deserted the Florentines, he had hired
 
 158 ETTORE FIEKAMOSCA. 
 
 himself to Signer Prospero Colonna, and now he was 
 quartered in Barletta, with the rest of the company. 
 
 Boscherino had brought word to Barletta that the 
 Podesta had been captured by outlaws ; but he took 
 pains to convey the news in such a way that no suspicion 
 should fall upon him. The sheriff, with a posse of his 
 men, started for the mountain. Fieramosca, Fanfulla, 
 and a few horsemen had followed them ; and, sending 
 the bailiffs forward, had halted to guard the avenue 
 issuing from the woods where the little church stood. 
 
 The sheriff brought to them two prisoners, whom they 
 had secured with great difficulty ; and the party on 
 horseback led them to the tower guarded by Martin 
 Schwarzenbach. 
 
 When the Conestabile had reached the gate, those two 
 wretches stood in the midst of the soldiers waiting for the 
 prison to be opened. One of them was the leader Pie- 
 traccio, a ferocious youth, with limbs and countenance of 
 savage mould, with an unkempt profusion of reddish hair 
 falling over his eyes, his arms bare, still stained with the 
 blood of the Podesta, and pinioned over the breast with 
 cords that penetrated the flesh ; he had a downcast look, 
 very much like a wolf that has been caught in a trap. 
 The other prisoner was a woman, tall, and of handsome 
 form ; but hardship, a life of crime, and despair had reduced 
 her to such a condition, that she appeared a great deal 
 older than she was in reality. In the scuffle with the 
 gensdarmes she had received a cut on the head, and had 
 been brought hither on the arms of two soldiers. They 
 laid her down on the flags of the entrance, and the shock 
 she then received exasperated the wound, made her open 
 her eyes, and give a deep groan, while the blood issuing 
 from the cut ensanguined her face and breast. The dun-
 
 ETTORE FIEKAMOSCA. 159 
 
 geon lately occupied by Don Miguel was opened, and both 
 the woman and Pietraccio were thrown into it, without 
 even untying their arms. 
 
 The soldiers, having got rid of these two, returned to 
 the woods to secure other prisoners, if there were any 
 more. Fanfulla went up stairs to the room of the Cones- 
 tabile, and Ettore improved those few moments to visit 
 the guests' lodgings at the Monastery. 
 
 The two women were surprised to see him at that un- 
 usual hour ; but after the first greeting he informed them 
 of the occasion that had brought him there. As he was 
 repeating to them the particulars of the chase given to the 
 robbers, he told them that a woman had been taken with 
 their leader, and that, while offering resistance at the 
 entrance of the cave where they had taken refuge, she 
 had wounded several of the gensdarmes, but at last had 
 been felled by a blow on the head from a rapier. 
 
 Ginevra, affected at the sadness of the event, resolved 
 to go to their assistance. She rose, and selecting what 
 she thought would be needed from a chest in which she 
 kept a quantity of powders and liniments, and which, as 
 we have seen, had been used on several occasions for 
 the service of those same assassins, she requested Fiera- 
 mosca to obtain from the Conestabile the key of the 
 prison. 
 
 lie started, and ascending through the winding stairs 
 to Martin's room, he heard a dragging of feet within it, 
 the cause of which he could not imagine. He pushed the 
 door which stood ajar and saw Fanfulla in the centre of 
 the apartment handling a long sword, which he had taken 
 down from the racks, and playing with it as if with a 
 walking cane. He parried imaginary blows, whirled it 
 around, cutting a thousand figures in the air ; he aimed
 
 160 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 thrusts and sabre-cuts in rapid succession, so that the 
 weapon had only the appearance of a mist ; he could not 
 have done less were he to defend himself against a whole 
 host. Ettore, with one foot already inside, fell back on 
 the other to avoid being struck, and looked with a smiling 
 countenance on the mad joust which the other carried on, 
 believing himself unobserved. It was evident, that for 
 the misfortune of the host the blows which now were 
 aimed at the air had not been all harmless. Either from 
 malice, or through mistake, one of them had put an end to 
 the requisitions of the half cask which was lying under 
 the bed, split in two like a nut ; and the liquor was flow- 
 ing towards the more depressed parts of the floor. 
 
 " The must is taken out of the vat late this year," said 
 Fieramosca at last, with a laugh ; and Fanfulla, turning 
 around at the sound of the voice, let his long sword fall 
 to the floor, threw himself on the bed on his back roar- 
 ing with laughter, and performed so many antics, that 
 he actually looked as if he had turned insane. 
 
 " What mischief hast thou been doing, thou raving 
 madman ? look there ! look ! we have been here only 
 half an hour, and thou hast done more evil than a dozen 
 Catalans would in a whole week. . . . And, Martin ? 
 where is he ? " 
 
 Fanfulla became quiet at last, and replied : 
 
 " He was here a while ago ; and he bragged that none 
 but Swiss and Germans knew how to handle a long 
 sword. I told him that he was right, and beeped of 
 
 O 7 OO 
 
 him to give me a few lessons, and as I tried my best 
 at it, I happened to cut a notch in the barrel, I'll be 
 hanged if I did it on purpose ! and he became mad in 
 earnest. See what a beast of a man he is ! ... he 
 cannot make any allowance ! and still he knew well
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 161 
 
 that we Italian wretches do not know how to handle a 
 sword ! To make the story short, we had some very 
 ugly words between us, and he left scolding and swear- 
 ing. What wouldst thou have done ? Not caring to 
 carry on a fight with a fencer of his quality, I wished 
 him a cancher * in the true Lornbardy fashion, and said 
 to him : If you'll condescend to come out to the field 
 in front of the tower, I will make a notch in your Ger- 
 man noddle, that will prove to you that the cut in the 
 barrel was by mere accident." 
 
 " And what did he reply ? " 
 
 " That I should begone, that he was sick of me." 
 
 To utter these words, and to roll over and over on the 
 bed, scattering everything in all directions, was the work 
 of an instant. The Captain, not feeling disposed to med- 
 dle any more with that devil of a man, and on the other 
 hand, feeling very sore for the loss of his wine, gave 
 vent to his anger in German curses, and hid himself in 
 a rickety old room on the second story, where Don 
 Miguel had ensconced himself. From that place of se- 
 curity he heard Fanfulla giving his version of the story, 
 and now and then he let a valve open for the outpouring 
 of his indignation in some villainous expressions, to which 
 Fanfulla responded in tune, introducing his narrative by 
 way of parenthesis. 
 
 Fieramosca, who naturally abhorred such vulgar jokes, 
 interfered, and with much ado succeeded at last in recon- 
 ciling them. Martin came down, Fanfulla went his way 
 in a glee, and even Ettore could scarcely refrain from 
 laughing, to see the German eyeing the two halves of 
 his barrel, with the look of a miser who opens his coffer 
 and finds it empty. At last, Ettore made known that 
 * Lombardian for cancer.
 
 162 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 Ginevra wished to visit the prison, and with courteous 
 words requested that she might be admitted to it. 
 
 Meantime the Conestabile had set up again the two 
 halves of his cask, and using a piece of cloth in place 
 of a sponge, he began soaking it in the wine, and then 
 squeezing the liquor with great care into those recep- 
 tacles, in order to save at least the remnants of his 
 defeat. When he had heard the request of Ginevra, he 
 grumbled and grunted : 
 
 " There ! assassins meet friends ready to give them 
 succor, and a poor fellow who minds his own business, and 
 does not even hurt the bread he eats, falls in with mad 
 people who sack his house." 
 
 " My dear Sir Martin, you are certainly right ; but 
 you see I have nothing to do with it." 
 
 " Now I suppose it is my fault. Did I go forth to 
 beg of them to come and have a merry time in my 
 quarters ? " 
 
 Fieramosca kept urging his request. 
 
 " Well, well, come within half an hour, and I'll let you 
 into the prison . . . that you may all perish therein. . . ." 
 He muttered these last words between his teeth ; but 
 Fieramosca was already half way down, and could not 
 hear him.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 MARTIN and Don Miguel saw that the capture of 
 Pietraccio and of his mother might entail serious con- 
 sequences upon the one, and interfere with the projects 
 of the other. They had a consultation about it, and 
 agreed that it was necessary to effect the escape of the 
 assassin, and thus avoid his being brought to Barletta, 
 where he might expose the conduct of the Captain. But 
 there was great peril in effecting this without involving 
 the keeper in serious difficulties. 
 
 When Fieramosca came to obtain leave to visit the 
 dungeon, the Captain had not yet recovered from the 
 effects of his quarrel with Fanfulla, and at first he could 
 not see, whether, if he should grant the request, it would 
 further his plans, or rather interfere with them. How- 
 ever, he had wit enough to take time, and trusting in the 
 cunning of his new acquaintance, he went up stairs, hop- 
 ing that Don Miguel would find the way of getting him 
 out of his perplexity. The Spaniard, upon hearing Fie- 
 ramosca's request, remarked : 
 
 " Had we offered him a bribe, he could not serve us 
 better. Leave the whole to me, Conestabile, and you will 
 see whether I know how to work. But . . . remember ! " 
 
 " All right, say no more. But . . . the nuns ! " 
 
 " The nuns ! " replied Don Miguel with a smile ; " we 
 will not touch them ; be easy about that. Now give me 
 the keys of the dungeon, and wait for me here."
 
 164 ETTOKE FIERAJlOSCA. 
 
 He took the keys, went down stairs, and opened the 
 door very cautiously. He listened, and heard the mother 
 and son conversing together ; he halted on the first of the 
 four or five steps which led down to that hole, and by 
 stretching his neck he was in a position to hear and see 
 those wretched creatures. 
 
 The woman had been laid down, her head resting on 
 a log in a corner of the prison, but the excitement and 
 the struggle had brought on a violent fever, and while 
 tossing about in wild frenzy, her face had fallen on the 
 damp earth, and she had not been able to raise it again. 
 The son, with his arms tied on his breast, had endeavored 
 to bring her some relief, but in vain ; at last, in despair, 
 he knelt by her, his eyes wandering with a vacant gaze 
 from the mother to the walls. 
 
 The woman strove from time to time to lift her head, 
 but she was too weak to help herself. The boy made 
 another effort and succeeded at last in placing his knee 
 under her head, and restoring his mother in her former 
 position ; but the jerk gave her a fit of pain so acute that, 
 bringing her hands to her head and giving a long pitiful 
 moan, she said : 
 
 " Accursed be the rapier of the Calabrian thief ! But 
 if the fiend will allow me only two minutes . . . thou 
 shalt at last hear thy own history; . . . What use in 
 praying to God and Saints ? when have they hearkened 
 to me ? . . . " And here, raising her half-spent eyes 
 towards the vault, she uttered blasphemies enough to 
 make the hair stand on end of any one but Pietraccio. 
 
 " And still," she continued, her ferocious despair hav- 
 ing subsided into an expression more distressing and 
 equally deep, " still I too have entertained hopes of 
 forgiveness ! . . . when I sang with the rest in the
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 165 
 
 church ! . . . Accursed be the hour I passed that thresh- 
 old ! . . . But what ! The Devil had me before I was 
 born ! . . . I have endeavored to break loose from him ! 
 . . . Behold how I have succeeded ! . . ." Then, look- 
 ing up to the vault again with an expression which it is 
 impossible for language to describe " Art thou satis- 
 fied ? " And she turned to her son : " If thou canst 
 ever escape from here ; ... if thou art a man ... he 
 who has caused my death and thy ruin must burn with 
 me forever, if there be truth in what we are taught. 
 That night in Rome, when I posted thee at Tor Sanguina 
 to murder that gentleman, and thou, the fool ! didst 
 make noise before striking the blow, and thus wert taken 
 and made what thou art now . . . that man was Cesare 
 Borgia ! . . . When he was at the university of Pisa, 
 and I at school in a convent of the same city, he fell in 
 love with me, and I with him, the infamous wretch and 
 fool that I was ! But I did not know him ! . . . After- 
 wards he came one night to me ... I had a little daugh- 
 ter of mine, seven years old, with me . . . she awoke 
 . . . she slept in a small room near by ... she saw him 
 climbing over a window ; she gave a loud shriek . . . 
 woe to him had he been discovered ! . . . for he had just 
 been proposed for the bishopric of Pampelona ... he 
 threw pillows on her head . . . and pressed on them 
 with his knees . . . Ah ! the fiend ! I fell to the ground. 
 . . . Swear here by hell, by my death, that thou wilt 
 kill him ; give me a sign with thy head that thou 
 swearest it ... at least this much . . ." 
 
 The assassin, with a pair of eyes fearfully glaring over 
 his mother's countenance, tossed his head and nodded that 
 he would ; and the woman, taking from her neck a chain 
 which she concealed under her garment, continued :
 
 166 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 " And when them hast cut his heart open, say to him : 
 look at this chain . . . (dash it on his eye) . . . my moth- 
 er returns it to you ... I have not yet done ... oh ! one 
 moment more ! then I'll be ready . . . when I recovered 
 I found myself stretched on my couch . . . thou art . . . 
 oh ! I cannot couple thy name with that of poor Inez. 
 Oh ! how beautiful she was ... oh ! thou art in heaven 
 now ! . . . and I ! . . . I ! . . . why should I go to 
 hell ? . . ." These last words were uttered with a yell 
 which shook the very vault. She was dead ! 
 
 Pietraccio did not appear much moved ; with a stupid 
 eye he watched the last convulsions of his mother. When 
 he saw her dead, he crawled to the most distant corner, 
 just as the savage beast, shut up in a cage with the 
 carcass of one of its own species, recoils with horror. 
 
 What the mother had revealed to him in broken 
 phrases, and in a delirious fit, he had understood but par- 
 tially. But it had sunk deep into his mind that he was 
 to revenge many wrongs on Cesare Borgia, but especially, 
 he thought, because his cruelty had reduced him to the 
 condition in which he lay now. 
 
 But those revelations had affected Valentino's hireling 
 in a far different manner. Had you seen him in those 
 moments you would have thought that every word of the 
 unfortunate woman lessened his vitality, so much he 
 changed in appearance. 
 
 When she fell to the floor it was with great difficulty he 
 held himself on his feet. 
 
 With faltering steps he went down, and with a trem- 
 bling hand he cut the cord which bound Pietraccio. He 
 gazed for a moment on the chain, which the prisoner had 
 instantly placed around his neck, and then said : 
 
 " In a few moments a gentleman and lady will come to
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 167 
 
 see thee. Their object is to set thee free ; but let it not 
 appear that it is their doing. Be quick ; and while they 
 will try to attend to the woman to see whether she can 
 be helped, up with thee, take to thy heels ; fly, and look 
 sharp that they shall not catch thee again ; thou art 
 already condemned to death." 
 
 He had scarcely uttered these words, when, as if he 
 stood on burning coals, he glanced almost by stealth and 
 with a sickening feeling at the woman, left the poignard 
 in Pietraccio's hands, and swift as lightning hurried 
 aAvay and regained the Conestabile's apartment. At the 
 proper time we shall see how much even the ribald soul 
 of Don Miguel was troubled by what he had seen and 
 heard. 
 
 And here we seem to hear the reader exclaiming : 
 When will there be an end to all these agonizing accounts 
 of assassins, traitors, dungeons, deaths, devils, and worse ? 
 
 But, to please our reader, while we have been so 
 fortunate as to guess his thoughts, he has not been 
 equally fortunate in giving us credit for the resolution 
 which we had already made of putting an end to these 
 
 stories and send to the Martin and Pietraccio. 
 
 We must in a confidential way declare that they were 
 growing loathsome even to us, and we were just about 
 inviting our readers to transfer themselves to the very 
 centre of the Barletta castle, which will present a far dif- 
 ferent appearance from that when we last met there in 
 company with Don Miguel. 
 
 The court-yard and the terraces were spread with silk 
 tapestry of all colors, decorated with wreaths of myrtle 
 and laurel, forming festoons and emblematic figures ; and 
 all the banners and flags of the army were streaming
 
 168 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 from windows and balconies. A multitude of idle spec- 
 tators, and of menials busy in arranging everything, were 
 swarming round, now crowding upon each other, then 
 again dispersing through staircases, piazzas, and the 
 court-yard. Soldiers, workmen, servants, and boys ran 
 to and fro carrying tools, shouldering ladders and every 
 kind of furniture to set up the tables or to decorate the 
 theatre. There was an abundance of provisions, fruits, 
 wines and venison presented by the gentlemen of the 
 city and of the army, with an emulous earnestness as to 
 who might do the most in honor of the Spanish Cap- 
 tain. It was the tumult of a people going and coming, 
 calling each other, hallooing to each other, clamoring ; in 
 a word, an undescribable uproar and confusion. 
 
 As the tower bell struck the hour of fourteen, the great 
 Captain made his appearance at the head of the grand 
 outer staircase, attended by all his barons. He wished to 
 show by the gorgeousness of his attire and of his train 
 the joy he felt at the arrival of his daughter ; a courier 
 had just announced that she was three miles from Bar- 
 letta. 
 
 Over a short gown of frizzed gold cloth he wore a cape 
 of flaming purple velvet, lined with rich sable-skin, and 
 his head was covered with a cap of similar materials. On 
 a sapphire-studded clasp rose an artificial plume made of 
 the finest pearls, strung together with a thread of steel, 
 and it waved over his brow resembling real feathers. 
 The sword and the poniard, sheathed in velvet also of 
 flaming purple, dazzled the eye with a profusion of jewels ; 
 and on his left breast he wore the decoration of the order 
 of San Yago, a sword embroidered in red. 
 
 A white mule from Catalona was kept in waiting for 
 him at the foot of the stairs ; it was covered by a long
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 1C9 
 
 foot-cloth of watered-silk, dyed in violet, embroidered 
 with gold, and reaching to the ground. As soon as he had 
 mounted his mule, his attendants mounted their horses, 
 and the cavalcade started to meet the Lady Elvira. 
 
 Prospero and Fabrizio Colonna, dressed in rose-colored 
 calamanco, with a great deal of silver embroidery, rode on 
 each side, upon two Turkish horses, the handsomest that 
 had been for a long time seen in Italy. The two leaders, 
 though past their manhood, sat on high saddles covered 
 with velvet, and managed their fiery steeds with a dex- 
 terity so graceful, as to prove themselves to be the great 
 soldiers, who were applauded as the best leaders to be 
 found in any army of those times. 
 
 Amongst the attendants Pedro Navarro was remarked 
 by his stern and bulky appearance ; he was the inventor 
 of mines, which had served so well at the taking of Castel 
 dell' Uovo. Diego Garcia de Paredes, surnamed the 
 Hercules of his own time, who always appeared encased, 
 in iron armor, having no apparrel fit for such an occasion 
 had contented himself with having his arms burnished 
 more carefully than usual, and had chosen the most ficiy 
 of all the horses he had in his stable. It was a large 
 stallion from Calabria, lassoed only a few weeks before, 
 tall, of powerful limbs, as black as a raven without a 
 speck of any other color. 
 
 Paredes alone dared and was able to manage the wild 
 animal, which, accustomed to the woods, hemmed in now 
 by such a throng, and hearing so much noise, had become 
 furious, snorted, puffed, and foamed like a lion. 
 
 But the rider's height, his ponderous armor, and the 
 aid of a bit certainly of half arm's length, which drew 
 blood from the mouth of the horse, tamed him down, and, 
 after having given vent to his fury in a hundred antics
 
 170 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 and jumps people were not slow in making room for 
 him he took the wise resolution of not deeming himself 
 stronger than Diego Garcia, who, sealed to the saddle, 
 seemed to enjoy those vain efforts. 
 
 The flower of the Italian youths mingled on terms of 
 equality with the Spanish barons. Ettore Fieramosca rode 
 between his two dearest friends Inigo Lopez de Ayala 
 and Brancaleone ; he wore a mantle of azure satin with 
 embroidery in silver, the work and gift of the women at 
 Sant' Orsola. He was renowned as the best horseman 
 in the army. He mounted a beautiful animal of pearl 
 color with black mane, a present from Signer Prospero, 
 and it had been so well trained by him, that he seemed 
 as if he knew the will of his lord without hint of spurs 
 or bridle. 
 
 Fieramosca seemed endowed with the special gift of 
 ever appearing to the greatest advantage in everything, 
 before every one, and in every place. 
 
 The form of his limbs was perfect, and their elegant 
 contour was shown by the cut of his white satin dress 
 fitted tight to the person, with scarcely a wrinkle at the 
 thighs and legs. He was so handsome, his carriage so 
 graceful, that as the cavalcade passed along the streets, 
 the crowds gazed only at him, and they admired him 
 above all. The youth was conscious of his triumph, but 
 he felt almost ashamed to catch himself in a thought 
 scarcely pardonable in the softer sex. 
 
 At last came the squires of these leaders ; and, accord- 
 ing to the custom of those times, every master tried to 
 have in his train men of all nations, and the more out- 
 landish and barbarous they were the more valued they 
 would be. There might be seen Turkish Spahis with 
 their small scaly cuirasses and armed with scimetars ;
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 171 
 
 men from the kingdom of Granada with Moorish lances, 
 archers from Tartary, from whom Prospero Colonna had 
 chosen his two attendants, arrayed in very gaudy colors 
 with bows and quivers of silver. There were also 
 Ethiopians from the Upper Egypt armed with long 
 arrows ; and their barbarous appearance making a con- 
 trast with European faces, exhibited a sight full at once 
 of variety and great beauty. 
 
 All the artillery from the towers and barbacans of the 
 castle, and the tolling of all the bells of the town hailed 
 the noble Gonzalo as he started. In the midst of so 
 much noise, the clangor of trumpets and the sound of 
 music was heard from time to time, producing a harmony 
 which, if not perfectly in unison, seemed at least to ex- 
 press the martial glee which animated the troops. 
 
 A message was then conveyed to Gonzalo that the 
 Duke of Nemours had already entered Barletta with his 
 barons ; therefore, he halted and despatched some of his 
 suite to meet him ; and in a few moments the French were 
 seen to enter from the opposite end of the square. 
 
 The Duke, perceiving that Gonzalo was dismounted 
 and was advancing to meet him, alighted also, and after 
 they had pressed each other's hands with a noble greet- 
 ing, the Frenchman courteously remarked that he would 
 deem it great injustice if, being invited to the feast, he 
 should come to disturb it, as would happen in case the 
 father were, even for one instant, delayed in embracing his 
 daughter. He knew that they were going to meet her, 
 and he begged to be allowed to join company with them, 
 feeling sure that, although the war rendered them ene- 
 mies, the Spanish General would rank him among the 
 first to admire his valor, his wisdom, and all his noble 
 qualities. Such words could not but meet with a return
 
 172 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 of even greater courtesy. The two Generals mounted 
 their horses again and headed the cavalcade, while their 
 retinue followed, mingled indiscriminately, with that inter- 
 change of courtesies in which the French have always 
 been the masters. 
 
 They had proceeded about a mile from the gates, when 
 the gay and gallant equipage was met by the train which 
 escorted the horse-litter, carrying the Lady Elvira to 
 her father's camp. 
 
 She was attended by Vittoria Colonna, daughter of 
 Fabrizio, who was afterwards wedded to the Marquis of 
 Pescara, and became so celebrated for her fortitude, vir- 
 tue, and wisdom. Gonzalo dismounted, and hastened 
 forward to embrace his daughter, who had alighted from 
 the litter, and fondly pressed her to his heart, calling her 
 Hija de my alma, (child of my soul,) and lavishing 
 such caresses on her as made great contrast with the 
 stern gravity of so great a man. 
 
 He had appointed Ettore and Inigo to attend on his 
 daughter as squires, and they advanced leading a Span- 
 ish jennet for her to ride on. The Italian youth bent on 
 one knee, and the maiden, lightly placing the tip of her 
 foot on the other, seated herself on the saddle with so 
 much grace that none could wish to see better. The pale 
 brow of Fieramosca became suffused with a gentle ver- 
 million, when on his rising Lady Elvira returned thanks 
 to him with such a smile, and with such a look, which at 
 once bespoke her great satisfaction in the choice made 
 of the handsome young knight for her squire. 
 
 In consequence, perhaps, of the over-tender indulgence 
 on the part of her father, her manners had not that ma- 
 turity of wisdom which might be otherwise expected in a 
 young woman of twenty. She did not always temper
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSOA. 173 
 
 her warm heart and her fervid imagination to that correct- 
 ness of judgment, which is so seldom witnessed in either 
 sex, and which is, however, after virtue, the most valua- 
 ble jewel of the soul. 
 
 Her friend Vittoria Colonna blended that quality with 
 the acuteness and the quickness of a very prompt mind. 
 Although they could be styled both equally handsome, 
 still two beauties of more different cast could not be 
 found. The sparkling eyes of the Lady Elvira, her 
 constant smile, the effect, perhaps, of an innate sense 
 that made her feel that by it she would please more, 
 made at first great impression ; the majestic and truly 
 Roman features of Fabrizio's daughter, her handsome 
 face, not very unlike that given by the Greek sculptors 
 to the Muses, a hallowed ray that beamed between her 
 eyelids, worked their way into the heart in a far different 
 manner, and there engendered an affection and a wonder 
 which could not be easily effaced. An observing eye 
 might, perhaps, have imagined there was in her a light 
 dash of conceit. If there was any, her great virtue 
 enabled her afterwards to correct it, and turn it to good.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE whole company alighted at the castle on their re- 
 turn. The new guests were introduced to the best apart- 
 ments ; and the cortege being broken up, every one went 
 to prepare for the chase and the tournaments which 
 were to be held during the day. 
 
 The square had been enclosed with a palisade, outside 
 of which steps, platforms, and galleries were built all 
 around, decorated in the best style ; and in small houses 
 built for the purpose, there had been kept for several days 
 bulls, heifers, and wild buffaloes, destined for the exhibi- 
 tions so much liked by the Italians of those times, and in 
 which even gentlemen of the first rank did not disdain to 
 take part. Within these lists, which were well enclosed 
 and admirably arrayed for the display, the tournament 
 was to take place. A great confluence of persons had 
 assembled and already filled every spot ; the roofs, the 
 windows of the adjoining houses, and every available 
 situation were crowded with spectators. Pursuivants, 
 and servants dressed in corsets of various hues and col- 
 ors, having diligently swept and watered the square, 
 waited for the arrival of Gonzalo. 
 
 It was not long before he entered, attended by his 
 train, with the Duke of Nemours at his right, and on his 
 left the Lady Elvira. He rode around the lists, and 
 alighted at a gallery raised on one of the sides higher
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 175 
 
 than the others, and more richly decorated. Amid the 
 hui-rahs and acclamations which people always so lib- 
 erally bestow on exhibitions of gaudy garments of gold, 
 and of any kind of finery, all took their seats, and the 
 signal was given for the first bull to be let loose. 
 
 The murmur of the spectators, and the quarrels which 
 generally take place on such occasions concerning the 
 best places to which every one claims the best right, were 
 hushed in deep silence, as the barrier was opened. 
 
 A huge bull dashed furiously into the centre of (lie 
 lists. His head and foreparts were entirely black, but 
 the back was dark gray. Right and left he lashed with 
 his tail furiously, and went plunging around the lists 
 until he found that there was no chance of escape, and 
 then he halted, rolling his blood-shot eyes with a suspi- 
 cious look, and fiercely pawing the ground with his 
 forefeet. 
 
 At this moment the attention of every one was sud- 
 denly called to the noise arising from two men quarrelling 
 together in a part of the lists, for some reason which the 
 people could not learn. But we will let our reader know 
 it, if he will be pleased to follow us back for a few mo- 
 ments to the ladies of Sant' Orsola. 
 
 On that evening in which Fieramosca informed them 
 that the combat with the French had been arranged, Gin- 
 evra was not alone in feeling anxious for the danger to 
 which he would be exposed. Zorais also was frightened. 
 A haughty and daring temperament is, generally speaking, 
 not easily accessible; but woe to it, if love ever takes pos- 
 session of it ! After that evening she had no peace, rest, 
 or sleep. She spent whole days thinking of only one 
 thing, her mind forever revolving the same ideas with- 
 out being able to turn her thoughts into any other
 
 176 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 channel, or even to busy herself materially in any definite 
 occupation ; only, now and then she would for a few mo- 
 ments seat herself at her work embroidering the mantle 
 which was destined for Ettore, and then suddenly start- 
 ing up she would go to spend long hours on the piazza, 
 where she sat, and at times, without the least conscious- 
 ness of what she was doing, she would tear off the vine- 
 leaves and other plants which shaded it ; at other times 
 she would go out, as if on errands of great importance, 
 and then almost entirely lost to herself, she would slacken 
 her steps, and stand with her eyes riveted on the ground, 
 always anxious to be alone, and above all, endeavor- 
 ing to avoid being seen by her friend who, she thought, 
 might at any moment find out what she wished above all 
 to keep concealed. 
 
 Ginevra, on her part, was in no less agitation ; and we 
 venture to say that the struggle of her soul arose from 
 motives of a great deal more weight and power. The 
 affection which she felt for the Italian youth was the off- 
 spring of long intimacy, had been nourished by it, and 
 had been strengthened by the great debt of gratitude 
 she owed to him ; and now it was rendered more intense 
 by the impending danger, by the thought that a glorious 
 death might cut him off forever, and by an honorable 
 sentiment of reproach (after all, nothing will excite 
 heart and mind so much as great obstacles) which ad- 
 monished her that it was her paramount duty to try 
 every means of returning to her husband, and of sepa- 
 rating from him who, notwithstanding their agreeing vir- 
 tue, still held her on the brink of a precipice. She 
 remembered that she had promised to God and to the 
 Patroness of the Monastery that she would inform Ettore 
 of the resolution she had taken of separating from him ;
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 177 
 
 but on the evening she had determined to communicate 
 that resolution, he had come with the news of the chal- 
 lenge ; this was a good excuse for putting off the com- 
 munication ; but still she felt within herself, that although 
 a concession might be made for the delay, she was not at 
 all warranted to consider herself free from the obligation 
 she had contracted. 
 
 But besides these thoughts which were harrowing 
 enough, a painful suspicion in reference to her friend had 
 already crept into her mind. Women have an innate 
 sense, I might say an instinct, which leads them to dis- 
 cover the existence of love, no matter how deeply con- 
 cealed it may be in the inmost recesses of the heart. 
 Ginevra very soon perceived a great change in Zorais ; 
 and too well did she guess at the cause of it. The two 
 friends spent several days in this state of mind, their in- 
 tercourse enlivened no more by the former affectionate 
 and true-hearted intimacy. 
 
 In the meanwhile the tournament which was to take 
 place in Barletta, was the only topic of conversation be- 
 tween the gardener Gennaro, the lay-sisters, and the men- 
 at-arms of the tower ; and if any happened to go to town, 
 they would bring home a deal of news about the prepa- 
 rations that were made, and how great the expected fes- 
 tivities would be ; so much so, that on that blessed morn- 
 ing, all, except only those who absolutely could not leave, 
 went to Barletta at the peep of day, to secure good 
 places. The gardener, who, like all southern people, 
 was passionately fond of public spectacles and amuse- 
 ments, having donned his best apparel, and stuck a hand- 
 some bouquet on the band of his hat, was on the point of 
 entering his little boat, long before the break of day. 
 Zorais made her appearance at the top of the steps 
 
 8*
 
 178 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 which led to the seashore, dressed with more care than 
 the hour and place seemed to demand. 
 
 " Gennaro, I would like to go to Barletta with thee." 
 
 Gennaro noticed some hesitation in her manner ; 
 
 and as he was accustomed to be always addressed by her 
 in a resolute and abrupt tone, he gazed at her for a 
 moment before he welcomed her, then added that he 
 would feel honored by her company, and only regretted he 
 had not washed the boat, and covered it with some sort 
 of carpet, to make the seat more soft. " But I'll be back 
 in an instant ; it will not take me a minute," he said, and 
 started to go for what was needed. Zorais held him 
 back by the arm, and the grasp was so fierce that he 
 looked at her full in the face. He thought in his mind : 
 is she crazy or possessed ? 
 
 Ginevra was still in bed, and Zorais did not wish to 
 give an explanation as to the motives of her trip, which 
 would surely give rise to wonder in her friend's mind, 
 this being the first time she had left the Monastery. She 
 was impatient of delay, as every moment she imagined 
 to see Ginevra coming. 
 
 Hence with words more of command than of request, 
 she hurried the gardener into the boat, and he was 
 obliged to paddle away towards Barletta. Gennaro never 
 stopped his gabble, as he was rowing; he felt sure he 
 could inti-oduce her everywhere ; Gonzalo's valet was a 
 great friend of his ; no one could secure for her a better 
 place to enjoy the feast. They arrived at the Castle 
 when Gonzalo's train and the French barons had started 
 to meet the Lady Elvira. Zorais begged of Gennaro 
 not to leave her, but she could not prevail on him to stay 
 by her, and he rushed on amidst the dust, and the jost- 
 ling of the populace, to follow the cavalcade. Only he
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 179 
 
 led her to the Tavern of the Sun, promising, most faith- 
 fully, that he would be back in a very short time. 
 
 But he was detained longer than he thought, and was 
 late in keeping his promise ; so that when he entered the 
 square, every place was occupied, and he despaired at 
 once to find room for himself and his friend. But by 
 polite requests and by strong elbowing, he opened his 
 way through the people, who had thronged even behind 
 the galleries, and succeeded in gaining a place under one 
 of them. It was near the avenue through which the 
 combatants entered the lists ; but he could see nothing 
 else but the legs of the spectators dangling over his head, 
 and he felt deeply mortified at the failure of his great 
 promises in the capacity of a guide. Luckily, at the 
 moment when the bull was released, Fanfulla da Lodi, 
 who was one of the marshals of the day, came out of the 
 lists ; he caught the eye of Zorais, who looked around 
 with an air of vexation, and then recognized Gennaro, 
 who thus immediately addressed him : 
 
 " Ecccllenza lllustrissima ! See this good lady ; she 
 is dying with desire to see the feasts, but we came 
 too late. . . ." 
 
 Zorais perceived in the excited and fiery looks of the 
 young soldier, that he felt, indeed, disposed to grant 
 the requested assistance, and more too ; and she kept 
 punching at Gennaro with her elbow, to make him hold 
 his tongue ; but it was too late. Fanfulla came to her 
 assistance, and led her by the hand to an open space 
 behind the galleries, making the populace give way with 
 his truncheon, and then, raising his eye, he looked for a 
 seat where he could place her. 
 
 It was in an evil hour that Martin Schwarzenbach, the 
 Conestabile of Sant' Orsola, betook himself to one of the
 
 180 ETTORE FIEEAMOSCA. 
 
 top seats of a gallery, and sat there enjoying in perfect 
 ease a full view of the lists, his knees wide apart, and 
 his arms crossed on his breast. Fanfulla would not 
 have missed for a thousand florins the good chance he 
 saw before him to have a little fun, and on such terms 
 too. With his wand, he could only reach the heel of the 
 German, who was at the height of eight or ten feet from 
 the ground ; he tapped him lightly, and that wight bent 
 his looks down to see what was wanted. Fanfulla, with 
 the coolest air, brought his right hand to the height of his 
 forehead, waved the fingers up and down, and, with a 
 slight motion of the head sideways, a wink from the eye, 
 and a twist from the mouth, he made him understand that 
 he wanted his seat for the woman he had with him. 
 In truth, the expression of his face would have irritated 
 even a dead man. Martin, trusting for defence in the 
 height of his position, and the thought of that split barrel 
 recurring, perhaps, to his memory, gave a shrug of the 
 shoulders, as much as to say, Go about your busi- 
 ness, and then resumed his former attitude. 
 
 " Tedesco ! Tedesco ! " then said Fanfulla, with a loud 
 voice, and a toss of his head, " thou art purchasing a 
 good dose of the stick ; however, make up thy mind that 
 thou hast seen enough of the feasts for this day." 
 
 But Martin did not move ; he only grumbled ; because, 
 after all, he had misgivings as to the intentions of his 
 assailant, although at such a distance. 
 
 Xot sooner said than done ; Fanfulla jumped on a 
 board which lay across, caught the Conestabile by the 
 legs, the movement was so sudden, that Martin had no 
 time to recover himself, unseated him, and dragged 
 him down, thinking he could lay him flat on the ground ; 
 but the unfortunate Martin had got jammed between two
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 181 
 
 rough planks, through which his belly could not slip, and 
 he cried lustily for " Help ! " and " Mercy ! " The other 
 man kept on pulling, and shaking, and jerking, and was 
 not satisfied until he had drawn the poor fellow down, 
 covered with bruises and scratches. This done, he said, 
 with an air of compassionate feeling : " I am sorry to the 
 heart ; but didn't I tell thee that thou hadst already seen 
 enough of the joust ? " Then, with great politeness, and 
 dignified self-possession, he helped Gennaro and Zorais 
 to ascend the steps, and mingled with the crowd, laughing 
 heartily at the thousand and one curses hurled after him 
 by the Captain, who, trying to compose himself, and feel- 
 ing whether he had any bones broken, picked up his hat, 
 sword, and gloves, apparently very sorely exercised by 
 his defeat. 
 
 Zorais, who, from the place secured to her by Fan- 
 fulla's exertions, had obtained a full view of the lists, 
 gave a searching look all around, and rested them on the 
 balcony in front of her, where she saw Ettore, who, seated 
 by the Lady Elvira among the noblest barons, enter- 
 tained her, and endeavored to prove by his courtesy and 
 gallantry that he was worthy of having been chosen her 
 knight in attendance for the day. The Spanish maiden, 
 warm-hearted, of a fervid soul, and with a disposition to 
 levity, pretended, perhaps, to ascribe his attentions to a 
 cause which flattered her conceit equally with her heart. 
 They were observed by two females, who, at different 
 distances and with different feelings, did not let a sin- 
 gle motion of theirs escape. Zorais was one ; she was 
 too far to hear their conversation, but she felt so much 
 interested, and watched them with a feeling of so much 
 anxiety, and followed every change so closely, as to be 
 satisfied that the daughter of Gonzalo knew well how
 
 182 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 to appreciate the gallant Italian, and that it was some 
 other feeling besides the kindly courtesy which animated 
 her manners towards him ; she did not feel warranted in 
 forming an opinion of Ettore's sentiments, but even a 
 shadow can make a heart in such a plight as hers 
 tremble. The other observer was Vittoria Colon n a ; 
 she knew, from experience, that the youthful Elvira did 
 not know how to guard herself against the influence 
 of a handsome face and of fascinating manners. She 
 had an affection true and deep-rooted for her friend ; 
 and the stern brow and the piercing looks of the 
 daughter of Fabrizio evidently betrayed that she felt ill 
 at ease, and that she highly disapproved a conversation 
 which was becoming intimate and might be fraught with 
 serious consequences. 
 
 The first bull let loose in the lists had, at first, been 
 abandoned to the mercy of any one who might feel dis- 
 posed to attack him ; several had proved their skill with 
 various success but without any decisive advantage. 
 Diego Garcia occupied a lateral balcony, from which 
 many Spaniards and Italians, together with the French 
 barons, were witnessing the game ; at last he yielded to 
 the requests of many of those foreigners who wished him 
 to show his dexterity in this kind of warfare. Nowa- 
 days, the skill of a matador is exhibited in Spain by 
 plunging the sword betwixt the vertebrae of the neck at 
 the moment the animal lowers its head to gore its assail- 
 ant ; but, in those times, when the ponderous weapons 
 increased the power of a warrior's arm, to sever with one 
 blow the head of the bull from the trunk, was deemed the 
 perfection of the art ; and it was often done by those who 
 had both strength and skill. 
 
 Paredes entered the arena, carrying a huge, long sword
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 183 
 
 spadone on his left shoulder, dressed in a tight corset 
 of buffalo skin, with uncovered head. lie saw that the 
 bull had been wounded, and was losing blood ; hence he 
 beckoned to the pursuivants, and called for a fresh one. 
 The fatigued bull having been lassoed, and pulled away, 
 they opened one of the small stables, and another of 
 larger frame and of more ferocious appearance burst 
 forth. Emerging from darkness into the open, dazzling 
 light of the sun, exasperated and furious, the bull dashed 
 forward, tearing up the ground around the lists, as such 
 animals are wont, until perceiving his antagonist, he 
 halted before him, lowered his head, roaring, and with 
 the length of his tongue hanging out of his mouth, he 
 looked as if he was taking a position ; he backed, and 
 with its forefeet pawed the sand into a cloud that envel- 
 oped his neck and back. Garcia's strength was great ; 
 but it would have been dangerous to try it with a bull 
 whose forehead was armed with horns of unusual length, 
 and with a neck so wide and so bulky as to fear no attack ; 
 the Spaniard saw the need of extreme caution. With 
 both hands lifting his spadone over the left, and with the 
 left foot stamping the ground twice or three times, he 
 shouts at the beast : " ah ! ah ! " The bull, lowering his 
 horns, rushes upon his enemy ; the latter, just as he is 
 accosted, falls back on one side and bestows upon the 
 bull's neck a blow from his spadone with so much nerve, 
 and so well aimed, that the head rolls on the ground, 
 and the body darts three or four steps forwards before 
 it fell. 
 
 A universal burst of acclamations applauded Don 
 Garcia, as he immediately regained his seat among the 
 spectators. The French knights, unacquainted with this 
 manner of combat, and witnessing the ease with which
 
 184 . ETTOKE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 the Spaniard had despatched the bull, did not deem it a 
 feat of much difficulty. And as they were all men in 
 the prime of youth and of great strength, and very skil- 
 ful in the use of arms, remarked that they would also 
 do the same. And La Motte was even more confident 
 than the rest in expressing his opinion that it was not so 
 very difficult to perform the deed. Made prisoner by 
 Garcia, as the reader well remembers, he had ransomed 
 himself; of a disdainful soul, he heartily hated the Span- 
 iard ; not that he had been discourteously treated, but he 
 could not bear to have always before his eyes him to 
 whom he had been forced to humble himself. 
 
 He applauded Garcia, it is true, to avoid the charge of 
 being envious and uncourteous ; but with a look which 
 modern Frenchmen call sujfisant, for which the Ital- 
 ians have not perhaps a corresponding word, but in 
 English might be rendered self-sufficient. With a 
 haughty mien, bolt upright, not deigning to turn towards 
 him in full person, which was a habit peculiar to himself, 
 he remarked : " Bravo, Don Diego ; good cut, par Notre 
 Dame ; " then addressing a Frenchman at his side, added 
 with a smile ; "grand meschef a ete que le taureau n'eut 
 pas sa cotte de mailles ; la rescousse eut ete pour lui." * 
 
 Paredes understood him, felt enraged, and said to him- 
 self; Voto a Dios que he da saber si ese perro frances 
 tiene los denies largos como la lengua.\ He accosted the 
 Frenchman and said to him : 
 
 " How many bright gold ducats will you please to pay 
 if I cut the neck of a bull protected with a coat of mail 
 
 * Great pity the bull had not on his coat-of-rnail: he would have 
 gained the victory. 
 
 t I vow to God, that I wish to know whether this French cur has 
 teeth as long as his tongue.
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 185 
 
 when you could not cut it naked ? But even without any 
 consideration of ducats, lest people think that Diego Gar- 
 cia works for money like a torero, let honor alone be 
 pledged, and let us see whether you can strike a blow 
 like mine as well as you can laugh at it." 
 
 The challenge did not please La Motte much, and he 
 bit the tongue that provoked it ; not that he was a cow- 
 ard ; on the contrary, he was a daring man and true ; but 
 as this was the first time that he happened on such ad- 
 venture, he did not well know how to meet the encounter. 
 But he could not retreat ; with such spectators as were 
 around him he felt obliged to leap the ditch. Accord- 
 ingly he boldly replied : 
 
 " In truth, it would not be indecorous for a French 
 knight to refuse a combat with a bull, but it shall never 
 be said that Guy de la Motte ever shrank from using his 
 sword, let the occasion be whatever it might. To the 
 trial." And he rose, muttering between his teeth 
 "Chien d'Espagnol, sijepouvais te tenir sur dix pieds de 
 bon terrain, au lieu de la bete / " * . . . He had closely 
 watched and well learned Garcia's tactics in striking the 
 successful blow ; a young chevalier, a man of arms, and 
 a Frenchman, could he feel mistrust ? 
 
 This challenge so novel had roused the surrounding 
 young soldiers to the highest pitch of excitement.- The 
 commotion and the murmur had been noticed in Gonza- 
 lo's gallery ; the cause was soon told ; it spread through 
 the galleries like wildfire, and was received by the spec- 
 tators with joy. However, the news passed from mouth 
 to mouth with strange transformations, the more strange 
 as they originated from individuals of the lower classes. 
 
 * Dog of a Spaniard, would to God I could hold thee on ten feet of 
 fair ground, rather than the beast!
 
 186 ETTORE FIEKAMOSCA. 
 
 But nowhere was the report so misrepresented as where 
 Zorais was, at the very farthest point from Gonzalo's 
 balcony. The most distant among the spectators al- 
 always pretending to know more than those who were 
 the nearest, there was a waving of the heads, and 
 upturning of faces which evidently marked the prog- 
 ress of the news as it ran through the steps and seats of 
 the spectators. Gennaro had been up on his feet some 
 time, stretching his neck, and impatiently trying to catch 
 some information as to the cause of the tumult. lie, 
 Zorais and their neighbors had seen the commotion in 
 the balcony where the knights and their leaders sat, then 
 they saw the former leaving their places and scatter over 
 the lists ; the feast seemed interrupted ; no other bull 
 was let loose ; and they inquired of each other, what 
 is the matter ? what now ? but all inquired, and no one 
 replied. At last one near by said, " The challenge 
 between the Italians and the French is to come off now, 
 here in the lists." " ! bah ! " said another, " don't 
 you see Fieramosca up there, nailed to the balcony ? 
 Truly, by the way he is talking to that young lady he 
 does not seem to be in any humor for a fight just now.'* 
 Zorais overheard it and sighed. Another from the 
 other side chimed in ; " They say that the French cap- 
 tain has challenged Gonzalo, and whoever kills the bull, 
 which is a bandito from Quarato, will have gained the 
 day, and will be the lord of the kingdom." But then 
 several pursuivants were in a bustle around one of the 
 small stables, and seemed to be about rousing another 
 bull. Diego Garcia was standing on one side with his 
 spadone on his shoulder in the midst of a group of men, 
 all apparently addressing him at once, all in a flurry, as 
 if they wished to impress something upon his mind ; but
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 187 
 
 on his brow, bold and lofty, towering over the rest, was 
 seen, even from afar, the immovable determination that he 
 would accomplish what he had promised, however full of 
 danger the attempt might be. Not far from him was a 
 group of Frenchmen drawn closely around La Motte, en- 
 couraging him to prevent the shame of defeat. 
 
 A spectator, occupying one of the lowest seats, and 
 who had just concluded a conversation with Veleno who 
 stood by him, remarked, turning his eyes up to Gennaro : 
 " This good man here says that yon gentlemen have laid 
 a wager that they will swallow a pint of Greek wine at 
 one draught in the very teeth of the bull." Many laughed 
 at the pleasantry ; but the titter soon ceased when they 
 saw Fanfulla, with men-at-arms under his command, 
 clearing the lists, in the centre of which the Spanish 
 giant stood alone with that great spadone of his on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 Paredes felt how difficult it would be for him to come 
 out of this contest with honor ; notwithstanding his Her- 
 culean strength, it was an undertaking of great boldness 
 to cut the neck of a bull covered with an iron coat-of- 
 mail ; hence he had provided himself with another spa- 
 done of more weight than the former one, and which he 
 used only when he had to assault or defend entrench- 
 ments ; he had run home for it, had it sharpened to a 
 roundish edge, and having hastily taken some food as 
 it came to hand, he had washed it down with half a, 
 gallon of good Spanish wine. He had had plenty of time 
 to do all this, as it was not an easy task nor free from 
 danger, to fasten around a bull's neck a coat-of-mail. 
 This armor had been left open in front, the horns drawn 
 through the arm-holes, and remained fastened under the 
 neck, the collar dangling down in front. But whoever
 
 188 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 has seen bull fights in our own times, knows that it is 
 possible, with the help of hempen cords fastened to the 
 animal's horns, to hold it at bay in dark places, and force 
 it to submit to any treatment. 
 
 Amidst the flourishing of trumpets, and every kind 
 of instruments, a king-at-arms came forward. He was 
 dressed in a kind of scapular, red and yellow, with the 
 Spanish arms on his breast and on his back. With a 
 motion of his truncheon he commanded silence, and with 
 a loud voice proclaimed as follows : 
 
 "In the name of the Catholic King, Ferdinand, King 
 of Castile, Leon, of the Kingdom of Granada, "West In- 
 dies, etc. etc. etc., Don Gonzalo Hernandez de Cordova, 
 Marquis of Almenares, Commander, Chevalier of the 
 order of San Jago, Captain, Governor for His Catholic 
 Majesty of the Kingdom this side of the Faro, defends all 
 here present, under penalty of two strappados, or more to 
 his pleasure, from interfering by words, acclamations, 
 signs, or any action whatever, with the combat which will 
 take place immediately between the bull and the lllus- 
 trissimo Magnijico Cavaliere Don Diego Manrique de 
 Lara Gonte de Paredes" 
 
 A response was flourished from all the trumpets. The 
 spectators of all classes either through courtesy, knowing 
 that by the slightest movement on the part of the bull, 
 the life of the intrepid Spaniard might be jeoparded, or 
 through fear of the straps, were hushed into so deep 
 silence, that when the little bull-house was opened, the 
 drawing of its bolt was distinctly heard from one end to 
 the other of the amphitheatre. A bull came out, but not 
 with the mad fury of those before ; nor was he so large 
 as the rest, but he was thick, and all black ; moreover, he 
 was a great deal more savage ; he also halted at ten steps
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOgCA. 189 
 
 from Don Garcia, and fixed his eyes upon him, lashed 
 himself with his tail, and pawed the sand. His antagonist 
 kept motionless, the sword lifted in the air, his wide 
 open eyes gazing attentively, well knowing that a false 
 aim might cost him his life. The beast moved at last, the 
 first steps slowly ; then at once he gave a roar and a 
 plunge, and rushed with lowered head upon Garcia. The 
 Spaniard, thinking he would be able to cut the bull's head 
 as he had done in the former struggle, darted on one side, 
 and let the blow fall with all the power of his arm ; but 
 either because the sword did not fall straight or because 
 the bull had made a contre-temps, the weapon rebounded 
 on the coat, and the bull turned upon him with so much 
 fury that, to keep him at a distance, the Spaniard had 
 scarcely time to address his aim at the front where it was 
 protected by the iron collar, and there he held the point 
 of the spadone. Then, indeed, the whole strength of 
 Paredes was put to the test. There he stood with his 
 feet wide apart, one before the other, the spadone held 
 with both hands, the hilt resting against his breast, and 
 the point holding on to the bull's front, and thereby suc- 
 ceeded in keeping him at bay ; the thick and strong blade 
 stood the trial ; and the strain on Paredes's part was so 
 intense that the sinews and the muscles of his thighs 
 and legs quivered and swelled as well as the veins of the 
 neck and forehead ; the hue of his face turned red at first, 
 then into a purple tint ; and he bit his under lip so fierce- 
 ly as to draw blood from it. 
 
 The bull, seeing that the avenue to an attack was pre- 
 cluded on that side, drew back ; and, taking field again, 
 rushed upon Garcia with renewed fury. Garcia felt a 
 fever seizing upon him from the shame of having missed 
 his blow ; in the twinkling of his eye he looked up
 
 190 KTTOKE FIKRAMOSCA. 
 
 to the galleries and saw La Motte's countenance shad- 
 owed with a .sneering look ; the sight maddened him, and 
 feeling a new impulse added to his strength, lifted the 
 sword as high as his arm could reach and let it fall on 
 the bull's neck with such crashing force that he would 
 have cut it had it been of bronze. At first he cut one of 
 the horns like a bulrush, then the coat-of-mail and the 
 vertebrae, stopping only at the hide of the dew-lap, by 
 which the head still hung, while the body went rolling 
 on the ground amid a cloud of dust. 
 
 Such an exciting exhibition of skill and strength 
 elicited a burst of acclamation so tremendous and so 
 unanimous, that it sounded like a clap of thunder. 
 Paredes let the spadone fall at his feet, stood panting 
 for a few moments, while the purple of his cheeks 
 turned into a pale color, which however did not last long. 
 He was immediately surrounded by his friends, feasting 
 and greeting him. Some admired him, some handled the 
 spadone, others examined the width of the wound, and 
 the neatness of the blow, and meantime the bands made 
 the valley reecho with their enthusiastic strains. 
 
 The Spaniard had come out of his engagement with 
 honor. Now it was the turn for La Motte. The skilful 
 blow of his antagonist led him to pause ; he could 
 never hope to equal him ; and should he even succeed 
 (although it was a dubious matter) in cutting in twain 
 the neck of a bull unprotected by any armor, the praises 
 bestowed upon him would be of an inferior order ; 
 moreover his inexperience in this manner of warfare 
 made him have misgivings as to his chances of success. 
 At all events he felt that he could not come out of the 
 affair with honor, and he became almost crazy from sheer 
 spite.
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 191 
 
 When the Spaniard presented himself to invite him to 
 enter the lists, he refused in an insulting manner, and 
 added, that French chevaliers, on horse and with lance, 
 held the first rank in the world, and as noble chevaliers 
 they would fight and conquer their equals in just war- 
 fare, but they left to hinds and butchers the art of killing 
 bulls ; let the matador be gone, and bother him no more. 
 To those beastly remarks, Diego Garcia made a reply of 
 equal and worse import ; both laid their hands upon their 
 hilts, and the quarrel, taking place in the balcony occu- 
 pied by the knights, attracted the attention of Gonzalo, 
 of the Duke of Nemours, and of all the spectators. To 
 make it short, a new challenge was then given ; and 
 Garcia in a sonorous and terrible voice called out the 
 French, and challenged them to encounter him, saying 
 he would prove to them that even in this warfare the 
 Spaniards not only were their equals, but by far their 
 superiors. 
 
 The Captains of France and Spain were delighted 
 when they saw that a martial spirit was not only kept up 
 but even fanned into fury in the two armies, through 
 these quarrels and challenges, which seemed to reproduce 
 among their followers the romantic deeds sung by bards 
 and troubadours. Therefore they granted that even this 
 challenge should be accepted ; and in a few moments the 
 number and the names of the combatants were agreed 
 upon, and it was determined that they would meet within 
 two days, ten on each side, on the beach along the road 
 to Bari. But it was enjoined as a preliminary condition 
 that no more was to be said that day about the challenge, 
 so that the festivities should not be interrupted. The 
 champions on both sides were satisfied, and all returned 
 peacefully to their places.
 
 192 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 Whilst these arrangements were carried on, the men- 
 at-arms, who had charge of the lists, carried away the 
 body of the last bull, and spread the place with sand and 
 saw-dust, covering every spot of blood. Fanfulla, under 
 whose direction the pursuivants were at work, had re- 
 ceived orders from Gonzalo to arrange everything for the 
 jousts. In a few moments, they erected a wall, or rather 
 a partition, made of planks, supported by posts fixed in 
 holes prepared for the purpose beforehand. It was ex- 
 tended through the whole length of the amphitheatre, 
 like the axis traversing through the focus of an ellipse ; 
 its height was about to the breast of a man of average 
 size. The extremities did not reach the palisade, and 
 at these points an opening for three horses abreast was 
 left under the galleries. The rules of this kind of joust 
 were, that when the knights intended to run with blunted 
 lances, two at a time placed themselves at the opposite 
 extremities, on each side of the partition, and both had 
 it on their right ; then the x combatants spurred their 
 horses, and ran close to the wall, and aimed a blow at 
 each other as they met. It was a dangerous passage-at- 
 arms, as the horse could not mistake it, and the rider 
 knew also beforehand where they would encounter. At 
 the two ends of the lists were placed two barrels, with one 
 head stove in, filled with sand, in which lances of all sizes 
 were standing, that the knights nfight make their choice 
 and replace their own as they passed by, in case theirs 
 were broken in the encounter, without advantage on 
 either side. Then they vaulted around the extremities, 
 and ran to meet each other again over the course before 
 occupied by the adversary. 
 
 When everything was ready, Fanfulla advanced to the 
 foot of the balcony in which the Lady Elvira was seated,
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 193 
 
 and informed her that it became her duty to give the 
 signal. The daughter of Gonzalo threw into the lists a 
 handkerchief; at the same time, the trumpet sounded the 
 onset, and three Spaniards entered the lists ; they were 
 mounted, sheathed in highly polished armor, glistening 
 in the sun ; and the waving plumage of their helmets, 
 the rich embroidery and the profusion of ornaments, pre- 
 sented a sight seldom witnessed. They undertook to de- 
 fend the field, challenging any opponents to combat with 
 lance and mace, to break three of the former, and give 
 two blows with the latter. 
 
 The champions were Don Louis de Correa y Xarcio, 
 Don Inigo Lopez de Ayala, and Don Ramon Blasco de 
 Azevedo. 
 
 A herald then advanced and called the names of the 
 three challengers, and proclaimed, according to the laws 
 of tourneys, that none should dare by word or action to 
 interfere with the combatants. The shields of each 
 knight were suspended under the balcony of Gonzalo, 
 and their names were written in golden letters. The 
 challengers rode around the enclosure, and retreated to 
 one extremity of the lists under a huge standard, in 
 which were painted the turrets and lions of Castile, and 
 the bars of Aragona ; it was held by a squire richly 
 dressed, and it streamed over hia^head. 
 
 The prize to be awarded to the victor of this tourney, 
 was a helmet of exquisite workmanship ; it was surmount- 
 ed by a statuette of Victory instead of a crest. The 
 goddess held in one hand a golden branch, in the other 
 the helmet's plume ; it was from the chisel of Raflaello 
 del Moro, a celebrated Florentine artist. It was placed 
 upon the point of a lance near the barrier where the 
 three Spanish barons had entered.
 
 194 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 Bayard, the pride and glory of the profession of arras, 
 entered the lists first, mounted on a handsome bay of 
 Normandy, white spotted on three feet, and with black 
 mane ; the handsome points of the steed were hidden, as 
 usual, by the long trappings which covered him from the 
 ears to the tail ; the housing was of light green crossed 
 by vermilion bars, with the knight's coat-of-arms em- 
 broidered on the shoulders and haunches, and it was 
 hemmed with fringes which reached to the horse's knees. 
 Bunches of plumes waving over the head and crupper, 
 and the pennon fluttering from the extremity of his 
 lance, as well as the feather surmounting the helmet, 
 were of the same colors. There was nothing extra- 
 ordinary in the form of the rider, who, in fact, from 
 the appearance he made under his armor, did not even 
 exhibit the average strength of the men-at-arms of those 
 times. He advanced, managing the steed, who, lightly 
 touched with the spur and restrained by the bit, capered 
 and caracoled, swung his head right and left, arching 
 his neck, and, with a long flowing tail, lashed and raised 
 the sand. 
 
 He paused before the balcony in which the Lady 
 Elvira was seated, and after having paid his compliments 
 to her by lowering the point of his lance, struck with its 
 foot the shield of Inigo until it rang three times. Then 
 holding the lance in his left, already encumbered by bridle 
 and buckler, he took the battle-axe which hung from the 
 pommel of his saddle, and twice he struck with it Correa's 
 shield ; he thus meant to defy the former to break three 
 lances, and the latter to prove his strength at the battle- 
 axe twice. After this, he retreated to the entrance of 
 the lists. 
 
 Without a moment's delay Inigo was at his place op-
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 195 
 
 posite to his antagonist, and both had their lances in rest 
 with the points glancing in the air. Bayard had kept 
 his visor open all this time, and it had been remarked 
 that his face was of an ashy paleness ; so that the specta- 
 tors were greatly astonished that he should dare, or that 
 he should even have strength to do battle that day. Now 
 he ordered his squire to clasp the visor, remarking, that 
 in spite of the quartana * he had been four months af- 
 flicted with it he felt confident that he would not dis- 
 grace the French arms that day. 
 
 The trumpets sounded a third time, and the two war- 
 riors and their horses vanished from their posts as if 
 impelled by one motion. To bend on their lances, to 
 spur their horses, to dash into full career with the rapid- 
 ity of a winged flight, were simultaneous movements, 
 and both knights charged each other with equal fury. 
 Inigo aimed at the helmet of his antagonist, a mark 
 difficult to hit, but of sure effect; but almost in the 
 moment of the encounter, thinking that before such 
 spectators it would be more prudent to take an aim that 
 would not miss, he only directed the point of his lance at 
 the shield of Bayard. The French champion who was, 
 perhaps, the most skilful of all men-at-arms of that 
 age, aimed a blow at Inigo's visor, and so true did he hit 
 him, that he could have done no better had both been 
 standing. The helmet sparkled at the shock, the spear 
 went into shivers, and the Spaniard reeled on his left 
 side, where he had also lost the stirrup, and it was feared 
 he would fall. 
 
 The two champions ran on their career to meet on the 
 opposite side, and Inigo, throwing away with rage the 
 staff of his spear, snatched another lance as he passed. 
 * Intermittent fever.
 
 196 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 In the second encounter there was no advantage on " 
 either side ; and Inigo questioned in his own heart 
 whether the French champion had not refrained through 
 courtesy from fully exhibiting his dexterity. But on the 
 third run the doubt became certainty. Inigo broke his 
 lance on the visor of his adversary, but the latter only 
 grazed with his weapon the cheek of the Spaniard, and 
 it was evident that the mistake had not been involuntary. 
 The trumpets sounded, the acclamations were loud, and 
 the judges awarded equal honors to the combatant.-, who 
 rode up together to the balcony of the Lady Elvira to do 
 homage to her. While she received them with words of 
 praise, Gonzalo also bestowed on them his encomium, and 
 the Duke of Nemours said to the champions : Chevaliers, 
 c'est bel et bon. 
 
 Inigo might yield in every thing but in generosity ; 
 and he proclaimed the courtesy exhibited by Bayard 
 towards him ; while Bayard, with that modesty which is 
 always the companion of virtue, denied the charge and 
 protested that he had done his best. Gouzalo brought 
 this contention of courtesy to an end by remarking, 
 
 "From your words one may doubt as to who has 
 better broken his lance ; one thing is certain, however, 
 there are not in the world more noble, more generous 
 chevaliers than you."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AT the signal from the trumpets, Correa, armed with 
 an axe and a small round buckler, came forward to an- 
 swer the challenge of Bayard, who, having alighted from 
 his horse, had changed it for a fresh one, and was ready 
 for the combat. The two knights advanced towards each 
 other, not spurring their steeds to full speed, but re- 
 straining them with spur and bridle to half-gallop, until 
 they came near meeting. In encounters of this sort the 
 velocity of the onset would not increase the force of the 
 blows, as in the case of a contest with lances. The force 
 of a blow depended chiefly upon the nerve of the arm, 
 and in a great measure upon managing the horse so as 
 to make him rear at the proper time and poise on his 
 hind legs ; and then as he came down on his forefeet, the 
 knight would catch the moment to let fall his weapon, 
 usually addressing it to the helmet of the adversary ; and 
 if this was done with true aim, the shock was generally 
 such that it was almost impossible to resist it. In the 
 first encounter, the two horses, well broken and skilfully 
 trained, reared and fell at one time ; and the knights 
 being protected by their shields could not hit each other, 
 but passed on. The same happened in the second en- 
 counter. Bayard saw the manoeuvre of his antagonist ; 
 and the third time he spurred more quickly against 
 Correa, who was forced to do the same. As they met,
 
 198 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 the Frenchman reined the horse down on its haunches, 
 just as the Spaniard, taken unawares, had made his steed 
 rear, and was addressing his aim to the helmet, but the 
 horse alighted and the aim was missed. Bayard skilfully 
 seized the moment, uplifted the axe with both hands, 
 spurred his horse, and rising in his stirrups, dealt a 
 blow on the helmet of his adversary which made him 
 reel over the animal's neck ; and when the spectators 
 thought that he would recover himself, he fell to the 
 ground stunned, and two of his squires bore him away 
 from the lists. Bayard left the lists also, bowing towards 
 the balcony of Lady Elvira amidst the acclamations of 
 the whole amphitheatre, and the music of the bands 
 applauding his victory. But he had to turn back and 
 fight Azevedo, who, advancing, had offered himself to 
 finish the combat in place of his comrade. This en- 
 counter lasted longer, and with varied success ; still 
 the honors of the victory were awarded to the French 
 knight. 
 
 An enclosure had been reserved near the entrance 
 guarded by a palisade, for the keeping of horses, the 
 accommodation of armorers, and for a tent pitched for 
 the use of the knights and their attendants, wherein they 
 might retire and arm themselves. Gonzalo had given 
 instructions that everything should be in readiness that 
 might be necessary. There might be seen several tables 
 set to lay armors upon, a farrier with a small portable 
 forge, that he might mend any parts of the armors, and 
 lastly, a side-table with an abundance of wines and re- 
 freshments. Brancaleone had been detailed for the duty 
 of superintending this department, and had been particu- 
 larly charged to see that nothing was wanting. 
 
 Whilst he was performing his duty, Graiano d'Asti,
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 199 
 
 whom he had seen on the occasion of carrying the chal- 
 lenge to the French camp with Fieramosca, arrived with 
 two attendants, who carried his arms and led his war- 
 horse. Brancaleone, who, as was his wont, had here- 
 tofore spoken very little, advanced and greeted him with 
 more words and show of courtesy than was his custom. 
 If you had been well acquainted with his ways, observ- 
 ing how he acted on this occasion, you would have 
 easily known that he had some secret motive for forming 
 an acquaintance with that man ; in fact, he had a particu- 
 lar end in view, and of great importance, as we shall see 
 at the proper time. 
 
 After the first welcome and offer of service, and after 
 having procured whatever he wanted, Brancaleone con- 
 tinued conversing with him, while his attendants helped 
 him to disrobe himself of the costly garments he wore, 
 and to put on a jacket and tight leather breeches, over 
 which he was to fit the armor. 
 
 Graiano's armor was of exquisite workmanship, with 
 gilt stripes on well-burnished steel, and was laid on the 
 table in pieces. Brancaleone examined every part of it 
 carefully ; and holding the breast-piece in his hand to 
 help buckle it on the knight, he saw that it was a 
 double plate, and judged it impenetrable ; the plate cov- 
 ering the belly was also double and of equal strength ; 
 and with his practised eye he observed that the braces, 
 cuishes, and greaves might stand any blow. A close ob- 
 server would have remarked that during this examina- 
 tion there was something strange in his countenance, and 
 in the grin on his lips ; but at that moment none would 
 take notice of it. Only the helmet remained to be fitted on ; 
 and Brancaleone, as he took it up and examined it, per- 
 ceived that its strength was not in keeping with the other
 
 200 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 pieces ; he asked Graiano whether he was in the habit of 
 wearing an iron head-piece ; and being answered in the 
 negative, he questioned him how it happened that whilst 
 he protected every part of his person with arms so 
 strong, he neglected to use the same precaution for the 
 head. 
 
 " Because," answered Graiano, " at the siege of an in- 
 significant little castle not worth three cents, and that 
 madcap of Montpensier was bent on taking it, just as I 
 had applied the ladder to mount the walls, some of those 
 Abruzzo villains who defended it, rolled a huge stone 
 over me, which falling edgewise, stove the helmet in, and 
 made a hole in my head, that will be entirely healed 
 only, I believe, when they shall throw a shovelful of dirt 
 over it. And see here ! " 
 
 And saying this, he took Brancaleone's hand, and 
 bringing it to his head, made him feel a notch on the top 
 of the cranium, from which it was evident that he could 
 not bear a helmet much heavier than the one on the 
 table. 
 
 " In consequence of this wound hanged be the man 
 who inflicted it ! I have lost a great many ducats ; as I 
 was obliged to leave King Charles, and remain under 
 cure for many months. It is true, however," he added 
 with a laugh, " that by it I got rid of the burden of a 
 wife, .... so there was both evil and good in the whole. 
 Then I hired myself to that wretch of the Valenza ; 
 until, as it pleased God, I rejoined the French, and with 
 them at least there is no rain falling on the hire, nor snow 
 either, and at the close of each month they pay out florins 
 in ready money, as they do at the Martelli Bank in 
 Florence." 
 
 " But how could this light helmet stand a smart cut ? " 
 rejoined Brancaleone.
 
 ETTORE F1ERAMOSCA. 201 
 
 " Oh ! " answered the knight, " I don't trouble myself 
 much about that. First, it is a Damascus plate, and of a 
 east than which no better can be obtained ; and then I 
 tell thee that when in an encounter I perceive that they 
 wish to chase the flies from around my head, I can use 
 the buckler so that it will take a man of great skill to 
 reach me. See here" (and he showed him the shield 
 and the thong by which it hung) ; " see how long I have 
 it, in order to keep my arm free." 
 
 Brancaleone said no more, but went on examining the 
 casque on every side, and made it ring with the knuckles 
 of his fingers, with an air of nonchalance which he could 
 put on with a wonderful effect ; then he opened it, and 
 fitted it on the head of the knight with his own hands. 
 
 In the meanwhile the three Spaniards and Bayard had 
 run their career as we have narrated. The latter, hav- 
 ing conquered his opponents, entered the tent where Grai- 
 ano had just finished arming himself, and was on the 
 point of mounting his horse. The Knight of Asti spoke 
 some words of courtesy to the victor, and thinking that 
 Brancaleone paid no attention to them, he inquired of 
 Bayard what he thought of the antagonists. 
 
 Bayard took off his gauntlets, laid them with his hel- 
 met on the table, and wiping the perspiration, remarked : 
 
 " Don Inigo de Ayala, bonne lance, foy de chevalier" 
 
 And to the rest he awarded such praises as he thought 
 they deserved ; then gave to the knight who was going 
 forth to the combat some advice concerning the encounter 
 and it was not lost. 
 
 Graiano entered the lists nobly bestriding a heavy 
 
 brown horse covered with housing of orange color, and a 
 
 herald loudly proclaimed his name. Then he advanced 
 
 towards the balcony of Gonzalo, and struck with his 
 
 9*
 
 202 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 lance the shields of Azevedo and Inigo, and made them 
 ring three times. An involuntary inward shudder shook 
 every fibre of Fieramosca's frame, as he heard that name. 
 He again reproached himself for not having informed 
 Ginevra that he was alive ; and as a man is more ready 
 to make good resolutions when the time for their execu- 
 tion is the farthest distant, he again purposed to tell her 
 of it at the first opportunity. 
 
 By this time the warriors had met, and the Piedmon- 
 tese, who for robustness and skill in combat was held 
 among the very first, gained a decisive advantage over 
 Azevedo, although he did not succeed in unhorsing him ; 
 and with Inigo he fought so well that the judgment of 
 the spectators was generally awarded in his favor. Many 
 of the French party proved their lances after him ; 
 among the rest, Seigneur De la Pelisse, Chandenier, 
 Obigni, and La Motte, who, irritated by the quarrel he 
 had with Garcia on the subject of fighting the bull, 
 actually did wonders that day. 
 
 In fact, the three Spaniards, who had undertaken to 
 defend the lists, had the worst of it, and were made to 
 feel their rashness in taking alone the field against the 
 best lances of the French army. However, Inigo and 
 Azevedo were still on their saddles ; and Graiano who 
 had already tried his lance with them, advanced to the 
 encounter for a second time. Perhaps it was fortunate for 
 him that so much fighting had weakened them ; however, 
 it was his fortune to end the contest by unhorsing them 
 one after the other, and thus to carry off the honors of the 
 day. In the midst of the flourishes from the bands and 
 the applauses of the spectators, he received from the hands 
 of Lady Elvira the rich helmet, the award of his victory. 
 The tournament being thus ended, Gonzalo rose, and
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 203 
 
 accompanied by his daughter, the Captain of France, and 
 all the barons, resumed his way towards the Rock, where, 
 it being the time for the banquet, the tables were spread, 
 and preparations actively pushed. The square and the 
 lists became soon deserted, the whole crowd, strangers 
 and townsmen, breaking up and dispersing towards their 
 homes or to the taverns, especially to that of Venom, a 
 favorite resort, and much frequented, where they sought 
 rest and refreshment, discussing among themselves the 
 fortunes of the day. 
 
 The morning of that day in which fate had reserved 
 the most dreadful blows for Ginevra, she had awakened 
 one hour later than usual. Filled with continual an- 
 guish by self-reproach, she had not enjoyed any rest until 
 break of day ; but her slumbers were broken, and troub- 
 led with a hundred fantastic dreams. Now she saw Fiera- 
 mosca wounded, and with a failing eye looking up to her 
 for comfort ; again she saw him victorious, crowned with 
 glory, surrounded by barons and turning from her with 
 disdain ; he would pay homage to another woman to 
 whom he offered his hand. And in her sleep she would 
 try to reassure herself, saying : " happy I am that it is 
 only a dream ! " Still, she trembled, seeming to hear 
 the festival sounds reechoing the joys of Ettore's nuptials, 
 the ringing of bells, and the booming of the cannon ; and 
 at last their sound struck upon her ears so that she sud- 
 denly started, opened her eyes, and turning them towards 
 the balcony whence Barletta was seen, she felt that if 
 all the rest had been a dream, the noise that had awak- 
 ened her was a reality. She arose on her bed, and 
 thrusting her small snow-white foot from under the 
 coverlids into a crimson slipper, while she was throwing 
 around her shoulders a morning dress of azure color,
 
 204 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 parted with both her hands the long auburn tresses fall- 
 ing behind her ears. 
 
 She took her seat under the vines of the balcony, gaz- 
 ing at, with eyes dazzled by the light of a serene and 
 liquid sky, the majestic panorama displayed before her. 
 
 The sun had been two hours above the horizon, and 
 illumined the shore, the town, and the Rock. From be- 
 tween the turrets and the galleries of the citadel, globes 
 of smoke, as if suddenly created, of a color like that of 
 the pearl, pierced through with darting tongues of fire, 
 and reflecting a white light from the rays of the sun, 
 rolled up in a thousand forms and shapes towards the 
 sky, vanishing away in the azure atmosphere ; then in a 
 few seconds the peal rolled forward, and rebounding from 
 the tranquil waves, it reechoed on the rocks of the shore, 
 and slowly died away in a faint rumbling sound, awidst 
 the farthest recesses of the mountains. The Rock and 
 the town, enveloped at times in smoke which was quickly 
 dispersed by the sea-breeze, were mirrored in the green 
 hue of the calm waters, and their inverted image was 
 reproduced, flickering, but perfect, in the sea. 
 
 Wafted on by the wind, the sound was more or less 
 strong according to the increasing or decreasing power of 
 the breeze. In the stillness of the Monastery, even the 
 shouts and the hurrahs of the spectators might, at times, be 
 distinctly heard, as they cheered the Captain of Spain. 
 But neither these tokens of festivity, nor the charming 
 vista displayed before her eyes, could lift from Ginevra's 
 soul the weight of sadness which oppressed it. A new 
 sting, equally painful, was now added to that of remorse ; 
 the suspicion of being betrayed by him for whose sake 
 she had made the immense sacrifice of disregarding the 
 claims of duty and of conscience. Her mind repelled,
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 205 
 
 and her heart abhorred the doubt ; but still there was a 
 doubt. Whoever has tried it, let him tell how easy it is to 
 expel it. And in fact, although there was no truth in her 
 fears, still there existed circumstances which might give 
 a semblance of reality to the foundation of her doubts. 
 
 Ettore had certainly succeeded in concealing from her 
 the meeting with Graiano, but accustomed as he was to 
 lay all his thoughts and secrets before her, he could not 
 feign so well as not to let her perceive that there was 
 lurking in his heart a secret of which she had not been 
 made the confidant. 
 
 On the other hand the marked change in Zorais' man- 
 ners was a thorn which she could not pluck from her 
 heart. She would say to herself: "Who will assure 
 me that Ettore himself has not guessed ? How can I be 
 made sure that he does not encourage her ? " And while 
 she endeavored to draw a conclusion from all these 
 premises, she found herself entangled in a labyrinth of 
 doubts, without a thread to lead her out. 
 
 Distressed and fatigued with so much mental anguish, 
 she rose to look for relief and comfort, and made inquiries 
 about Zorais ; she was not at home. She went to the gar- 
 den ; she was not there. She inquired of the few persons 
 who had remained at the Monastery, but none could give 
 her any information. An iron grasp almost palsied her 
 heart, and a thousand shapeless suspicions crowded upon 
 her mind. She then approached the tower by which 
 the entry to the island is protected. She saw it deserted, 
 and not one single man on guard ; the Conestabile had 
 gone to the jousts and his men had followed suit. She 
 passed the bridge and kept on walking along the beach, 
 with the sea at her right, and on the left the steepness of 
 the mountain covered with heavy underwood. With a
 
 206 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 weary step, and a mind overburdened with thoughts, she 
 paid no attention to what was going on around her. But 
 all at once she started at a rustling noise among the 
 branches ; and to her great terror, she saw emerging from 
 it a man who, advancing with tottering steps, covered 
 with rags, steeped in blood, torn by thorns and briars, and 
 with long, unkempt, matted hair falling upon his face, ap- 
 proached her and fell on his knees. At first she thought 
 of flying away, but naturally courageous and fearless, she 
 stood still ; and looking at the man who had appeared be- 
 fore her in that guise so strange, she recognized at length 
 the chieftain Pietraccio, whom, following the plan laid by 
 Don Miguel, she and Fieramosca had involuntarily set at 
 liberty. The affair had turned out as Valentino's emis- 
 sary had foreseen ; whilst they were busy about the 
 woman, Pietraccio had taken to his heels, run up stairs, 
 and then through the gate, clearing his way with the sti- 
 letto he had in his hand ; and, although wounded and 
 chased by many, he had succeeded in gaining the woods, 
 and being well acquainted with them, and a very swift run- 
 ner, had saved himself. Not to fall in the hands of those 
 who had been dispatched after him, he was obliged to live 
 most miserably, hidden in the densest parts of the forest ; 
 and now finding himself near her, to whom he supposed 
 he owed his freedom, and therefore had no reason to fear, 
 goaded by hardship and hunger, he implored her compas- 
 sion, making use of signs to make her understand his 
 great misery, which however was evident in his very 
 appearance. Ginevra felt both loathing and pity for the 
 wretch, and bade him not to fear, that at the Monastery 
 there was no person but the nuns, and the tower being 
 for that day abandoned, he might follow her to a wood- 
 house under her quarters, where she would care for him.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 207 
 
 The assassin, who peradventure felt that death would 
 have been preferable to such a life, followed her, and 
 reached the hiding-place without being seen by any per- 
 son. The tender hearted woman brought him refresh- 
 ments and bandaged the wound, which, however not very 
 severe, still needed care, and with some straw prepared 
 for him a couch as well as she could. As she was re- 
 turning up stairs, Zorais and Gennaro had just landed 
 from the skiff, returned from Barletta. 
 
 Ginevra could not refrain from making a mild com- 
 plaint to the maiden who had left home in the morning 
 without telling her. 
 
 " Dear Zorais ! I have been very uneasy searching for 
 thee all over the island ; why not have told me that thou 
 wert going ? " 
 
 " Not to awake thee," was Zorais' reply ; and the want 
 of sincerity in the answer suffused her countenance with 
 a slight vermilion tint, which Ginevra noticed ; and then 
 added : 
 
 " I left very early with Gennaro, and . . ." 
 
 " And," interrupted Ginevra with a smile, " thou didst 
 not know last night that thou wert going ? " 
 
 Such direct thrust added a tint of spite to the shame 
 which had already crimsoned Zorais' face : " Yes . . . 
 I had some idea of going. " Then, resuming the thread 
 of her conversation : " Long since," she said, " I have 
 wished to witness one of these jousts, and see whether 
 they are in fact anything better than the Arabian festi- 
 vals. But viva Dio! with us, what is here performed 
 by knights and lords, would be done, beshrew me ! by 
 slaves, and none of our noblemen would jeopard his 
 life for the amusement of three or four thousand specta- 
 tors of the lowest rabble."
 
 208 ETTORE FIKRAMOSCA. 
 
 Ginevra, perceiving that Zorais, to avoid the necessity 
 of giving an account of the motives she had in going to 
 Barletta, insisted on talking about the lists, did not at- 
 tempt to urge the matter any further, and remarked, 
 " Then it was a fine tournament ? " 
 
 " Fine ? indeed it was ! " chimed in Gennaro, who 
 was dying with the wish of being himself the narrator of 
 events, and beginning from the appearance of Gonzalo, 
 he described to the best of his abilities, the splendor and 
 gorgeousness of the barons ; then, thinking it would 
 gratify her, he continued, with a toss of the head and a 
 pressure of the lips, while with his hand he twirled his cap 
 in a hundred ways : " And if you had seen your brother ! 
 how he mounted his horse ! a splendid colt, of the color 
 of silver ; it was on every tongue what a handsome 
 youth ! And to tell the truth, with that azure mantle 
 of yours, he was quite a picture. I almost killed myself 
 to follow the cavalcade out of the gates ! By the power 
 of my elbows, I assure you, truly . . . but when the 
 daughter of Signor Gonzalo came out of her litter, I 
 was as near to her as I am to you now ; and Signor 
 Ettore helped her on the saddle . . . that is, I'll say it 
 more exactly, she leaned her foot on his knee, a little 
 foot, see ! " and to show the exact measure of it, he ex- 
 tended the thumb of the right hand, with the fore-finger 
 of the left pointing to its joint, " and then up, like a 
 cricket ; and do you know what I am going to tell you ? 
 I should not think that she is displeased with your 
 brother, if we judge from the way she acted after be- 
 ing on the saddle, she spoke to him such fine words, she 
 put on such looks ! blessed are those who saw it ! And 
 he, I saw it. he blushed ; the Lord knows what they 
 have said to each other ! and I thought to myself, it
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 209 
 
 would be queer if Signer Ettore should marry : they 
 would be a very handsome pair, I tell you ; they seem 
 made for each other." 
 
 The reader can imagine whether this account with its 
 comments could be grateful to Ginevra. She could bear 
 it no longer, and wishing to get rid of him, said shortly : 
 
 " Well, well . . . you will tell me all some other time." 
 And she turned around to retire to her rooms with Zorais. 
 But Gennaro, who was in good earnest with his story, 
 was not to be put off in that way, and continued : 
 
 " Eh, this is nothing ! you ought to have been there 
 during the jousts, in the balcony occupied by the folks of 
 quality ; he sat by her constantly, and they kept on talk- 
 ing continually ; and then, Signora Zorais can tell you 
 how they had attracted the attention of all. And in fact, 
 the host of the Sun Tavern, he who provides the wines 
 for the folks at the Rock, said that the father has con- 
 sented to his marrying her ; it would be a grand affair, 
 you know ! how many thousand of fine ducats ! It would 
 be far different from that hard life of his, always on horse- 
 back, exposed to the rain and to the wind." 
 
 Ginevra, to break up this conversation, which pained 
 her too much, albeit she knew the hollowness of its mean- 
 ing, said : 
 
 " But the tournament ; will you tell me about the tour- 
 nament, at last ? " 
 
 " Oh, the tournament ! There is no remembrance of 
 the like in Barletta." 
 
 And here, starting with the bull-fight, and the prowess 
 of Don Garcia, he went on describing the encounter with 
 battle-axe and lance, repeating all the names loudly pro- 
 claimed by the heralds. His memory served him too 
 well, when, drawing near to the end, he said :
 
 210 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 " What crowned the feast, were the exploits of Signer 
 Don Graiano d'Asti, who unsaddled the three Spaniards 
 one after another." 
 
 " Who, who ? " asked Ginevra, with an emotion in her 
 manners, and a faltering in her voice, too violent to be 
 suppressed. 
 
 " One Signor Don Graiano d'Asti ; he must be a great 
 baron, so rich and costly were his armor and housings." 
 
 " Graiano d'Asti, didst thou say ? Was he great, or 
 small ? was he young ? . . . how did he look ? " 
 
 Gennaro had not missed one single jot of the arms, 
 physiognomies and bearing of all the combatants, and he 
 remembered Graiano as if he had him before his eyes, 
 because the baron had entered the lists with raised vizor, 
 and was seen full in his countenance, so that he could de- 
 scribe him most minutely ; and he left not the least doubt 
 in Ginevra's mind as to his identity with her husband. 
 Nevertheless, she controlled herself so far as to conceal 
 in part the violent tumult of feelings which overwhelmed 
 her heart, and to avert the danger of betraying her secret. 
 While Gennaro was doing his best to convey a correct 
 picture of the form and features of the baron, she had 
 time to recover herself; but perceiving that the two 
 hearers had still remarked that she had faltered on hear- 
 ing that name mentioned, to-do away with any suspicion, 
 she said, when the gardener had done speaking : 
 
 " Do not wonder that I feel disturbed at the mention of 
 that name ; some time ago strange occurrences took place 
 between his house and ours ; but they afterwards became 
 reconciled, and for many years there has been no cause 
 for scandal ; but I was very far from thinking that he 
 would be in Barletta now, and under French pay." 
 
 After saying this she turned to go to her rooms ; but
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 211. 
 
 Zorais and Gennaro could not but suspect, from the color 
 of her countenance, which changed several times, that she 
 was much pained by some secret and weighty thought ; 
 still they did not follow her ; and when she had left, the 
 gardener said to the maiden : 
 
 " Is she unwell ? or have I said anything which was 
 not proper ? " Zorais had something else in her mind, and 
 could not herself well define by what thoughts and by 
 what suspicions she was haunted ; hence she replied by 
 a shrugging of her shoulders, and departed, wishing no 
 less than her companion to be alone. Gennaro who had 
 been left there, with cap in hand, grumbled as he went 
 his way : " They are all alike ! great is the man who 
 can understand them ! " 
 
 In the meantime Ginevra was going to her chamber by 
 the private stairs, and she felt at every step as if the 
 world were falling on her shoulders ; she breathed with 
 increasing difficulty, and the throbbing of her heart was 
 so violent that she almost fainted. She incessantly re- 
 peated in almost a whisper : " Of Virgin Mother, help 
 me ! " and as the suffering increased she could only 
 say : " my God! my God! " At last the pressure was 
 such that her knees gave way, and having with great 
 effort reached the fourth or fifth step, she could go no 
 farther, and sank. With a breathing quick and broken, 
 and her brow bathed in spasmodic perspiration, she 
 thought : I cannot live till to-morrow ! She had 
 heard Zorais entering her own room, and she knew that 
 the nuns were at rest in their cells, it being the warm 
 hour of the afternoon ; still the fear of being discovered 
 in that place and in that state added to her discomfort ; 
 and to avoid the danger of it, she gave up the thought 
 of going to her room, and resolved to go to the church
 
 212 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 by the small gate of the cloister. She felt that only 
 there she might hope to obtain relief and protection 
 against the evils by which she was threatened. Thus 
 she made her way to the church as best she could, at 
 times leaning against the walls, and then endeavoring to 
 walk as usual, if she happened to see some lay-sister 
 loitering in the cloisters, or some nun's head peeping out 
 of the window. 
 
 The church was deserted ; she threw herself on the 
 first step of the choir as she entered, and for a long while 
 she remained in that posture with her head resting be- 
 tween her hands, and her elbows on her knees, trying to 
 recover herself, and with her mind a prey to so many 
 distracting thoughts, that it might actually be said she 
 had none whatever. 
 
 Behind the high altar, eight or ten steps of marble led 
 to a subterranean chapel, where five silver lamps burned 
 night and day before a picture of the Mother of God, 
 which a tradition from time immemorial reported to have 
 been painted by Saint Luke. The wonders said to have 
 been performed in that spot were the cause of build- 
 ing a church near the Monastery. The chapel was 
 hexagonal, the shrine and the venerable image being 
 opposite the entrance; at each angle a column sur- 
 mounted by a capital made of foliage heavily carved in 
 the olden style, supported one of the ridges which con- 
 verged with the vault into a culminating slab, of the shape 
 of a mill-stone, with a hole in the centre, protected by a 
 grate, and opening in the upper church at the foot of the 
 high altar. A slender ray of the sun, entering through 
 the stained glasses of one of the large windows from the 
 cupola of the church, worked its way to the subterranean 
 chapel through that hole. That beam descended into
 
 ETTOKE FIERAMOSCA. 213 
 
 a darkness scarcely broken by the feeble and red- 
 dish glare of the lamps, and entering in the form of a 
 cylinder, reproduced on the pavement the color of the 
 windows and the shape of the grate. Ginevra fell on her 
 knees at the foot of the altar, and as she was crossing 
 that beam, the light reflected from the gloss of the azure 
 dress she wore, illumined for a moment, like the flash of a 
 pale lamp, the whole chapel. 
 
 With her hands closely clasped on her bosom, and her 
 eyes fixed on the image, she began to pray, and she felt 
 the beating of her pulse become more regular, and the 
 heaving of her heart growing calmer by degrees. That 
 prayer, not uttered by her lips, but issuing from the heart 
 and expressing her feelings, restored peace and tranquility 
 to the soul. 
 
 Like all ancient paintings, the countenance of that 
 Madonna portrayed a certain sadness, so divine and so 
 august, that the young woman felt as if she met with sym- 
 pathy in her trials, and even, by keeping her eye riveted 
 upon it, she imagined that she perceived a flashing in 
 the eye, by which she was inspired with a holy terror. 
 Still she felt comfort, and giving vent to her feelings, she 
 cried : " Holy and glorious Virgin ! who am I, to deserve 
 mercy and pity from Thee ? And still who shall help me, 
 if Thou wilt not ? Behold at Thy feet all my trials ; see 
 that I cannot bear them, and have no strength to free 
 myself from them ! O ! Mother mine, most merciful, 
 nerve my heart so that I may at last do what I wish ! " 
 And with her eyes continually riveted upon the image, 
 and bathed in tears which streamed down her cheeks and 
 her bosom, she remained for a long time thus placing her- 
 self under the protection of her who delights to be called 
 the mother and comforter of the afflicted ; and she felt from
 
 214 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 her own experience how much comfort can still be ob- 
 tained from heaven, when one has lost everything, even 
 hope, on earth. 
 
 She recalled to mind all the hours of her past life, the 
 innocent joys of childhood, the affections of youth, the 
 first whispers of love, and its first remorses ; then that 
 torrent of trials and of griefs flooded upon her after she 
 was married ; then she thought of how she had spent 
 those latter years in continual vicissitudes of brief happi- 
 ness not even unalloyed and so much bitterness, and 
 scorching remorse. And now, moreover, as it happens 
 at the end of a dream which vanishes like mist, she saw 
 vanishing even the hope on which she had fed so long, 
 that Ettore would never change his feelings for her. 
 And when shaken by so many blows, wishing to fol- 
 low the voice of God who called her, still not feeling 
 resolution enough to yield to it, behold the divine will 
 manifesting itself with a louder voice, and leading her to 
 the road in which she was* to walk, by revealing to her in 
 a manner so unexpected the existence of her husband. 
 All doubts were now removed she thought. As long 
 as I could persuade myself that he was living no more, I 
 could perhaps excuse myself; but what a wretch I would 
 prove to be if I continued so ! 
 
 But here a new obstacle presented itself: And 
 when I meet him, he will ask me: where hast thou 
 been all this time ? 
 
 It was not so very easy to find an answer to that. 
 This idea presented itself so forcibly, that she felt it 
 would be impossible for her to meet the eyes of her 
 judge, and she at once abandoned the idea entirely, and 
 turned to some other way of getting out of that labyrinth. 
 However, the more she reflected the stronger was the
 
 ETTORE FIEKAMOSCA. 215 
 
 feeling of duty that came over her, that the very step 
 she wished not to lake, was the only one she was bound 
 to, the only thing she could and ought to do ; and she 
 would say to herself: Of whom should I complain but of 
 myself? Had I acted otherwise, and as I ought to have 
 acted, I should not be obliged now to undergo this humil- 
 iation, so bitter ; but the longer I put it off, the more bit- 
 ter it will become. 
 
 The temper of Ginevra's soul was a strong one, and 
 hence she loathed to be long time wavering in her reso- 
 lution ; and she courageously resolved Can I live for- 
 ever in this remorse ? No. Can I refuse the hopes, 
 and blunt the terrors of a future life ? No. Therefore 
 let me follow my duty, happen what may ; the trials I am 
 going to meet will be an atonement for my errors ; and 
 thou, my good Mother, thou wilt have mercy on me in 
 this world and in the next. Should Graiano withdraw 
 his pardon from me, what can he do ? kill me ? My im- 
 mortal soul will take its flight towards God, and it will 
 have in its power to offer deeds of penance, and deserve 
 mercy and forgiveness. 
 
 After having poured forth her soul in a last most fervid 
 prayer, she went to the upper church with a quick and 
 firm step, thus feeling that she was, as it were, adding 
 courage to herself, and closed herself in her room to 
 make such preparations as would help to carry out her 
 resolution. She sat, as it was her wont, on the balcony 
 which overlooked Barletta, and began to muse. There 
 was not a more propitious day to return to her husband, 
 certain as she was to find him at the festivals in the Rock 
 of Barletta, to which she might go in half an hour's 
 travel by sea. If, on the contrary, she should wait until 
 he had returned to the French camp, she would have to
 
 216 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 meet a great many more obstacles. Hence she reasoned 
 thus : Here there is no room for a doubt ; I must be with 
 
 him before to-morrow But how to arrange matters 
 
 with Ettore ! To-day he will not come, that is certain ; 
 to wait, I cannot ; to leave the island, to abandon him, 
 and not even let him know what has become of me, after 
 I owe my life and so much else to him ! Here a thought 
 sprang up in her mind, worthy only of a soul so noble as 
 hers. If in leaving him, she thought, I let him know 
 how my heart yearns after him, I know too well, that I 
 shall make him miserable for life ; but if, on the contrary, 
 I go without acquainting him with my motives, he will 
 think I am an ungrateful wretch ; soon will the memory 
 of so miserable a being like myself be erased from his 
 
 mind She could not brook the thought ; she sighed 
 
 bitterly, and said my sins are great, but these pains are 
 even so horrible ! 
 
 With that restless anxiety which is always felt when 
 the soul undergoes some violent revulsion, she rose, and 
 wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, began to put 
 together the few articles she intended to carry with her. 
 Rummaging in a chest, she came across some remnants of 
 the azure mantle of Fieramosca, and of the silver thread 
 with which it had been embroidered. We leave to the 
 reader to imagine what feelings that sight gave rise to in 
 Ginevra's heart. 
 
 The first impulse was to take them and stow them with 
 the few articles she intended to take with her ; but on a 
 second thought, she put them back in the same place, 
 and said No ! . . . . every recollection of him must be 
 cancelled, and forever ; it will be. enough for me here 
 below to know that he is happy on my account. 
 
 She wrote to the Abbess, thanking her for the hospi-
 
 ETTORE FIEKAMOSCA. 217 
 
 table kindness bestowed upon her, and recommending her 
 friend ; told her that a reason of great importance con- 
 strained her to depart without taking leave, and she 
 hoped to be very soon in a place whence she could give 
 her a more detailed and satisfactory account of herself. 
 
 Having thus fulfilled this last duty, she had nothing 
 else to do in the Monastery ; but she did not wish to start 
 before night. It was then one hour before sunset, and 
 she resigned herself to wait patiently on the balcony. 
 But she could not have chosen a more trying manner of 
 spending her time. If she turned her eyes to the interior 
 of the room, the sight of the little bundle she had laid on 
 the table, and which was to keep her company in a jour- 
 ney of so much anxiety, gave her a foretaste, as it were, 
 of keen troubles. If she looked at the bed, made up as 
 usual by the lay-sister, she would think that she had 
 occupied it the night before for the last time, and only 
 God knew where she would pillow her head the night 
 following. Outside the balcony it was even worse. She 
 looked over that span of the sea which separated Her 
 from the Rock of Barletta, and then she would think of 
 all those evenings, when straining her eyes she descried 
 the little boat of Fieramosca advancing from the shore, 
 like a black dot on the waters. She was now about 
 sailing over the same waters ; but to what purpose ? . . . 
 
 10
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 WHILE Ginevra, in this torture of mind, longed for, 
 and at the same time feared the approach of night, Pie- 
 traccio, hidden in the woodhouse under her rooms, was 
 waiting for her with feelings both of suspicion and im- 
 patience, hoping that she would come at twilight to show 
 him the way of escaping unobserved. 
 
 The scanty light which made its way into that hole came 
 from a high window which opened on a level with the 
 ground, and looked over a deserted place in the back part 
 of the monastery, covered all over with briars and net- 
 tles, where it seemed that no man would ever step his 
 foot. The robber was frightened as he heard some steps 
 advancing through those bushes, and his fears were 
 greatly quickened when he saw a man approaching whom 
 he recognized at once. It was the Conestabile of the 
 tower. He would have chosen to hide himself among 
 the fagots, but fearing lest the rustling of the dry leaves 
 might betray him, he kept quiet where he was, even hold- 
 ing his breath ; but he distinctly overheard the conversa- 
 tion which passed between the Conestabile and a man who 
 accompanied him. 
 
 Martino began : " There, that window on the second 
 story, where you see a cage and a flower-pot ; as you 
 see, you can reach it even without a ladder by the grate
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 219 
 
 of the window on the first floor without trouble. Well, 
 .... when you are up, you will find yourself in an entry 
 with many doors in it ; but, mark it well, the first on the 
 left is the room of my lady. However, there is none 
 else in the strangers' quarters. At one o'clock all the 
 nuns are in bed. If you know how to go to work, you 
 can come here at three and carry away the guest, and be 
 already a mile off before they can think of you. I will 
 shut up the dogs. I have given leave of absence to my 
 men ; and I assure you that whoever wants them to- 
 night will have to drum them out of the taverns of Bar- 
 letta. So you are now satisfied ; but take care, and say 
 to that devil of your associate that he must look after his 
 own business, that I do not intend to forfeit the pro- 
 visions I get from the Abbess for the barter of a few 
 florins ; therefore, look out sharp ; because if you make 
 a botch of it, I have already taken every precaution to 
 throw the whole blame on you all, and have my shoulders 
 safe. A clear bargain makes friends dear. Patti chiari, 
 amid cari." 
 
 Boscherino, to whom all these words had been ad- 
 dressed, lightly pulling one of the moustaches of the 
 Conestibile by one end, answered him, with a shake of 
 his head, thus : 
 
 " To throw the dirty water on him for whom we em- 
 bark in this undertaking, you will have to throw it very 
 high, and it will need a stronger arm than thine. And 
 you may thank San Martino that the Castle of Barletta 
 is far off, and a certain wight staying there cannot hear 
 thee, because, I tell thee, although we are in April now 
 he would make thee feel it was January. Follow my ad- 
 vice, brother ; of this whole affair, whether we succeed 
 or not, the less thou shalt say, the better for thee."
 
 220 KTTOKE FIEKAMOSCA. 
 
 Martino had partaken of Gonzalo's dinner at Barletta, 
 and had imbibed so much that he felt lion-hearted, and 
 answered, without being intimidated : 
 
 " And I say to you again that I have not the least fear 
 in the world, and if 1 have consented to lend you a hand 
 in this undertaking, T have done it more because it is 
 customary between soldiers to give each other a lift, than 
 for the paltry sum of a few ducats ; and I feel not dis- 
 posed to break my neck and lose my bread for whomso- 
 ever I know not ; so I will tell you in plain words, be 
 careful, because, if you are detected, I know how to get out 
 of a scrape ; and let the man who orders this exploit be 
 whosoever he may, I'll laugh at him when I am in my 
 tower. So we understand each other. Fare thee well." 
 
 Having said this much, he went to the tower, leaving 
 Boscherino to survey the place at his own ease. The 
 latter allowed him to go, casting after him a smile of 
 compassion, and then he could not refrain from saying in 
 a tone of voice loud enough to be heard by Pietraccio : 
 
 " What a miserable ass ! Just think, he will measure 
 himself with Cesare Borgia ! He would have met the 
 man who would quench his thirst by giving him salt pork 
 to eat ! Of course, it is a pint of Alicante that talks 
 within him now." 
 
 These words, as well as the whole preceding dialogue, 
 were heard, and very closely listened to. by the assassin ; 
 and they were enough to make him reach the conclusion, 
 that by order of Valentino the abduction of his protec- 
 tress had been planned, and that the Duke was then in 
 the Rock of Barletta. We may believe, without fear of 
 doing any wrong to Pietraccio, that the idea of defending 
 the lady was not his paramount thought ; what did he 
 know of gratitude ? But the hope of baffling a plan of
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 221 
 
 the greatest enemy of his mother and of himself, a more 
 atrocious hope that in the midst of the crowd and in the 
 tumult of the festivities, he might meet him, and imbrue 
 his hands in his blood, made his heart rebound with joy. 
 When Boscherino, after a few minutes, had gone, he 
 rose from the place where he was, and taking from his 
 bosom the thin and sharp stiletto received from Don 
 Miguel, he felt its blade with the thumb, gnashing his 
 teeth, and inflicting an imaginary stab : and then he 
 thought of the manner by which he could safely go to 
 Barletta. 
 
 The Angelus at the Monastery had been tolled ; after 
 the lapse of half an hour, slowly creeping to the ground 
 above, he opened the door, and looked around to see if 
 the shore was clear ; but, to regain the main land, he did 
 not dare to pass under the tower, nor over the bridge ; 
 and reflecting that the tract of sea between the island and 
 the shore of about a hundred yards would afford to 
 him a more protected passage, he went down the steps, 
 and when near the water, undressed himself, made a 
 bundle of his clothes, which he fastened on his head, and 
 then swam across ; in a few minutes, without being seen 
 or heard, he found himself on the sand of the beach. 
 It was almost dark ; and having dried himself and 
 dressed in a hurry, he hastened on his way towards the 
 city. 
 
 Diego Garcia di Paredes had scarcely settled the 
 quarrel which had arisen between him and the French- 
 man out of the wonderful feat he had performed against 
 the bull, when he remembered that Gonzalo had intrusted 
 him with a duty of great importance, and hurried away 
 from the lists. He had been charged with the superin-
 
 222 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 tendence of the preparations for a very sumptuous din- 
 ner which had been ordered at the Castle. As there was 
 no time to lose, he repaired to the kitchen at once ; and 
 as the grudge and bad humor he had against La Motte 
 was still souring within him, he appeared before the cooks 
 and attendants, who were bustling in the kitchen, like one 
 who was not disposed to overlook any fault or mishap of 
 those under his surveillance. 
 
 " And so ! " he said, halting on the threshold, with his 
 arms folded on his breast, " will everything be soon in 
 order ? Dinner must be on the table in less than one 
 hour." 
 
 The head-cook, a huge lump of a man, portly and 
 broad-shouldered, was at the middle table spitting veni- 
 son, with that frowning look which all men of his station 
 in life put on in like circumstances, no matter whether 
 things are wrong or not. But he had an additional cause 
 for being in ill-humor. The fuel had all been consumed ; 
 hence, besides the fact that the fires could not be kept up 
 at the same degree, and, consequently, the meats could 
 not be properly cooked, there was still greater danger 
 that the dinner might not be ready at the appointed hour, 
 and could not be placed on the table, either good or bad ; 
 and whoever is acquainted with the feeling of pride 
 which swells the breast of a cook, so tender in a point of 
 honor, will easily imagine how harassed was the mind of 
 the man to whom the Spaniard addressed himself. He 
 would not have honored the Pope with an answer in that 
 very moment, but he felt bound to answer Paredes. 
 
 He raised his head, and brandishing the spit with an 
 air of vexation, he said : " The devil has his horns here, 
 Signor Don Diego. . . . That traitor of a major-domo 
 has allowed the wood to give out. I have sent as many
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 223 
 
 of these poltroons as I could get rid of to obtain wood 
 wherever they might, but d them all, none has as yet 
 returned ; " and he stopped, giving that sort of sigh, or 
 rather puff, expressive of the feelings of those who are 
 disposed to give up entirely. 
 
 " Wood or no wood," shouted Paredes, " Voto a Dios, 
 that if thou art not ready for the appointed hour, . . . 
 majadero, harto de ajos . . . ;" and he went on spinning 
 a whole thread of Spanish imprecations, addressed to the 
 cook, who lost all his forbearance, and replied : 
 
 " Eccellenza ! tell me how I can cook a dinner with- 
 out fire. . . ." 
 
 Diego Garcia was not of those strong-headed men who 
 will browbeat a weaker man because he happens to be 
 on the side of right ; hence the answer of the cook at 
 first made him more angry ; but then seeing that he was 
 not altogether wrong, he said : 
 
 " And where has this thief of a major-domo ab- 
 sconded ? " and not waiting for an answer, he turned his 
 shoulders on the cook, went up to the court-yard again, 
 and thundered : " Izquierdo, Izquierdo, maldito de 
 Dios! ..." 
 
 Izquierdo had run to the nearest wood-house, and 
 with the help of the kitchen-waiters, having laden some 
 puny donkeys, he was urging them on with the tune of 
 heavy blows, and was entering the court-yard when he 
 heard the voice that called him ; he doubled the blows 
 on their backs to make it appear that the poor asses 
 were to be blamed, at least in part, for the delay; 
 and heaven only knows what they should be blamed 
 for! 
 
 As he came near Paredes he began to apologize ; but 
 the latter broke him short,
 
 224 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 " Hurry, quick, less talk, down with the wood, 
 or I'll measure it by the length of your back." 
 
 The way from the court-yard to the kitchen was as 
 follows : After ascending three steps, a narrow and 
 dark passage led to a smaller yard, in the centre of 
 which was an open space, flanked by a low wall ; from 
 the bottom of this, winding stairs led to the entrance to 
 the kitchen. Garcia was stamping his foot in great im- 
 patience, seeing how long it would take the knaves to 
 carry the wood in their arms. Thinking that there 
 would be far too much delay in the operation, he be- 
 came restless, and stooping under the belly of one of 
 those animals, he uplifted it with its burden, and taking 
 hold of the hind and fore-feet as if they had belonged 
 to a lamb, he carried it to the edge of the low wall 
 and turned it over in a bundle, the donkey falling 
 on top of the load, heels over head ; and with the 
 same fury, taking hold ofi the second and third, he re- 
 peated the same game ; so that in that hole, not very 
 large, could be seen, all thrown in a heap, a mass of 
 wood and fagots, with snouts, ears, and legs of asses, 
 bruised and scarred, cutting most ludicrous antics ; and 
 the waiters, frightened out of their wits, endeavoring to 
 free them, pick up the wood and throw it in the kitchen. 
 The terror which Garcia had inspired was so great that 
 even the master-cook came out and gave them help, 
 now and then cautiously looking up for fear that the 
 shower of donkeys should still continue, and anxious to 
 escape from it. In the twinkling of an eye, the ovens 
 were cracking with the addition of fuel, and the impulse 
 which Paredes had given by that summary argument, 
 had been so powerful that every man did the work of 
 three. As he became satisfied that everything was in a
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 225 
 
 fair way, shaking the dust off his clothes, and still grum- 
 bling, he moved towards home to dress himself. In the 
 yard, he met the company just returning from the lists. 
 Gonzalo, the Duke of Nemours, the ladies, and the 
 barons had arrived in time to see the last of the donkeys 
 on the shoulders of Diego Garcia, and hearing what had 
 happened, with great merriment and many jokes, they 
 made way for the Spanish baron, and entering the halls, 
 they loitered about, waiting for the dinner hour. 
 
 The banquet was to be served in the hall which was 
 used for a drawing-room to Gonzalo's quarters. It was 
 about one hundred feet long ; and in it a large table 
 was laid, in the form of a horseshoe, which could seat 
 about three hundred guests. At the upper part of the 
 hall, at the farthest point from the door, and at the head 
 of the table, were placed four large, high-backed chairs, 
 covered with velvet, and ornamented with galloons of 
 gold, destined for the Duke of Nemours, Gonzalo, Donna 
 Elvira, and Vittoria Colonna. Over their heads were 
 hung from the walls the gonfalons of Spain, the banners 
 of the Colonnas, and the pennants of the army, all 
 admirably interwoven with trophies, composed of the 
 costliest and most brilliant armor, with gaudy plumes 
 surmounting the helmets, with so many ornaments, and 
 so much jewelry, that there never was a more splendid 
 sight. From holes left on the spacious table at equal 
 distances, emerged orange trees, myrtles and young palm- 
 trees, all covered with blossoms and fruits ; while jets of 
 water, clear and cool, spouting from under them, fell 
 into silver basins, wherein swam fish of a hundred colors. 
 Little birds, tied by invisible horsehairs, frisked on 
 the branches ; and being domesticated and reared in 
 cages, warbled their lively songs, without being afraid of 
 10*
 
 226 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 the company or of the noise. An immense sideboard, 
 behind the place reserved for the noblest of the guest?, 
 was laden with vases of silver, and gilt plate, wrought 
 with beautiful reliefs of arabesque design ; and before it, 
 the steward sat on a high stool, with his ebony wand, 
 beckoning to servants and waiters. In the centre of the 
 hall were placed two large ewers of bronze, filled with 
 water for the purpose of washing or rinsing, and were 
 of that style we see painted by Paolo Veronese, in his 
 suppers ; within them decanters of Spanish and Sicilian 
 wines were kept to cool. On the two sides of the hall, 
 near the walls, were erected platforms about ten feet 
 from the ground, which were occupied by the musicians. 
 Owing to the diligence of Diego Garcia and of the 
 cook, shortly after mid-day the steward could enter the 
 hall where the company was waiting, and, attended by 
 fifty waiters dressed in russet and yellow, offer ewers 
 and towels to wash their hands ; and it was announced 
 that dinner was ready. The Duke of Nemours in the 
 radiant beauty of his youth, and health, with that graceful 
 address which so exclusively belongs to the French na- 
 tion, offered to Lady Elvira his hand, to lead her to her 
 place. Oh ! for the man who would have then told 
 this young prince, who seemed destined for a future of 
 great deeds and of glory, that within a few days those 
 eyes so brilliant, those limbs so gracefully proportioned, 
 would be stiff and cold, laid out on a poor bier in the 
 small church of Barletta ; * and that a passing office of 
 
 * " 1503, April 28. At the battle of Cerignola, a shot from one of 
 the Spanish arquebusiers took effect on the unfortunate young no- 
 bleman, and he fell mortally wounded from his saddle. 
 
 ..." Gonzalo was affected even to tears at beholding the muti- 
 lated remains of his young and gallant adversary, who, whatever 
 judgment may be formed of his capacity as a leader, was allowed to
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 227 
 
 compassion from Gonzalo, would be the last expression 
 of feeling he would raise in a human heart ! . . . . 
 
 Gonzalo took his seat between Vittoria Colonna and 
 the Duke, beckoning to his daughter to sit at the right 
 of the latter, with Fieramosca on her side ; and the 
 banquet commenced. Ettore's manners towards Lady 
 Elvira were marked by so much courtesy during the 
 whole day, that the Spanish maiden, whose heart was 
 very susceptible, could not help being fascinated by 
 them ; and much more so as she heard from every lip 
 the praises of him who thus behaved towards her. Seat- 
 ed near each other at table, they continued their conver- 
 sation, full of merriment ; but the countenance of the 
 Italian by degrees became veiled, as it were, by a cloud ; 
 his answers grew less earnest ; at last they showed that 
 he did not understand what was said to him. Lady Elvira 
 glanced at him with a furtive look, and with an expres- 
 sion of doubt mixed with some impatience; observing 
 that he grew pale, and that, lowering his eyes, he seemed 
 lost in suspense, she almost persuaded herself that she 
 was the cause of the change. This thought rendered her 
 more indulgent ; and she kept silent too. They both 
 remained thus for some time, while the rest of the com- 
 pany were in a high glee, and the noise was great all 
 around. Elvira, however, flattered herself too much ; 
 the sadness of Fieramosca arose from a far different 
 source, for it was the effect of fortuitous circumstances. 
 From the place where he sad; he could see through the 
 two main windows of the hall ; they were parted in the 
 
 have all the qualities which belong to a true knight . . . Gonzalo 
 ordered his remains to be conveyed to Barletta, where they were laid 
 in the cemetery of the convent of St. Francis." Prescotfs Ferd. and 
 hab. ch. xii.
 
 228 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 middle by two slender Gothic columns, and had been left 
 wide open to allow a free ventilation of the sea-breeze 
 through the hall, the day being exceedingly warm. He 
 could see the whole expanse of the waters, and emerging 
 from them Mount Gargano, dressed in that beautiful sky- 
 colored green generally reflected by the mountain in a 
 pure and serene Italian noon. Half way between the 
 mountain and the town arose the little island and the 
 Monastery of Sant' Orsola ; and even the piazza, of Gin- 
 evra, shaded by its vine tree, could be discerned like a 
 dark speck on the reddish faade of the guests' quarters. 
 On this foreground, so solemn and so charming, the dark 
 form of Graiano rested in bold relief, having his place 
 between the window and Ettore's seat. 
 
 That sky rendered the color of his complexion more 
 fiery and red, and added coarseness to the unmeaning 
 expression of his countenance. The thought of what 
 sort of a man he had before him, made Fieramosca's 
 blood boil with rage. However, it was happy for him 
 not to know in what painful state Ginevra was at that, 
 very hour ! At that moment she had learned from Gen- 
 naro that Graiano was in Barletta, and she was stag- 
 gering into the chapel to take her formal resolution to 
 abandon the place forever. 
 
 In the uproar of so large a banquet, little or no atten- 
 tion was paid to Ettore and the Lady Elvira ; but Vit- 
 toria Colonna, who had already some suspicions, noticing 
 the change in the countenance of the two young friends, 
 and apprehending that some conversation of more close 
 import might have taken place, held her mind in sus- 
 pense, and her eyes on the alert, watching the actions 
 of the knight and of his fair companion, for whom she 
 could not help feeling greatly alarmed. Meanwhile, the
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 229 
 
 banquet was progressing, and the tables groaned under 
 that quality and variety of good cheer which was so 
 abundantly served up in those old times. The culinary 
 art is certainly a difficult one in our own days ; but it 
 was much more so then ; for a cook, on occasions like this, 
 was expected to perform wonders, such as our cooks 
 would not even dream of. Not only the palate was to 
 be pleased with every dish, but the eye was also to be 
 amused. A large peacock, with the rich and varied 
 colors of its spreading tail, stood before Gonzalo ; it had 
 been prepared without taking any of the plumes off, and 
 it was done so skilfully that it seemed to be alive. Fowls 
 of smaller size surrounded the noble bird, and had their 
 heads turned upwards gazing at it ; they were all stuffed 
 with spices and flavor. A quantity of pastry and pies 
 of enormous height was placed at different places on 
 the tables ; and at a given signal from the steward's 
 truncheon, all the covers were uplifted, as if by magic, 
 and from the centre of the pies arose as many dwarfs, 
 appearing from their breasts upwards, dressed in the 
 most ludicrous attire, with silver spoons distributing 
 around the contents of the pastry, while their left hands 
 scattered flowers over the guests. The confectionery 
 dishes were framed either in the shape of low mounds, 
 on the top of which stood plants, laden with candied 
 fruits ; or in that of small lakes of jellies, on which little 
 barks, made of sugar, and completely rigged, had been 
 set adrift, laden with a tempting freight of sugar-plums, 
 and other such knick-knacks. Others represented an 
 Alpine mountain, with a volcano on its top ; and the 
 vapor issuing was a compound of most delicious fragrance. 
 The mountain being opened, the guests found .chestnuts 
 and other fruits slowly roasting on the gentle flames
 
 230 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 of aquardente. Among the great variety of wild meats 
 there was a small boar, with the skin well preserved ; 
 and there it stood with affrighted appearance, in the 
 midst of a band of hunters, made of pastry, who assailed 
 him with their spears. A blow from the knife showed 
 to the company that it was deliciously cooked. The 
 hunters shared the fate of their prey, being quartered 
 and distributed, with slices of the venison, on the guests' 
 plates. When the banquet was drawing to a close, four 
 pages, in red and yellow checks, entered the hall, mount- 
 ed on four white horses, and supporting an immense 
 platter, on which lay a huge long tunny, which they 
 placed before Gonzalo, amidst the acclamations of all, 
 admiring the size of the fish, and the manner in which it 
 had been prepared. It carried on its back the figure of 
 a naked youth, with lyre in hand, made to represent 
 Anon of Methymna. Gonzalo presented a knife to the 
 Duke of Nemours, with a courteous request that he 
 would open the mouth of the fish. 
 
 The Duke did so, and out came many doves, that 
 went flying around the hall, as they were liberated from 
 their prison. This joke took all by surprise, and was 
 received with shouts ; but as the birds alighted here and 
 there, the guests perceived some jewel and a small card, 
 with a name on it, hanging from the neck of each. 
 
 The company at once perceived that the Captain of 
 Spain had contrived that amusing way for the purpose 
 of presenting his guests with tokens of his kindness ; 
 and it was an exciting sight to see the confusion into 
 which they were thrown, every one endeavoring to catch 
 a dove ; but when one was secured, the name was read 
 and the dove and token were presented to the person to 
 whom they belonged.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 231 
 
 Fanfulla of course joined in the chase. A dove was 
 flying by with the Lady Bfvira's name on the little 
 paper, and he was enabled to read it. Being exceed- 
 ingly smitten with the beauty of the lady, he took it into 
 his head to secure the prize, and enjoy the pleasure of 
 presenting it. So, watching the bird, and being endowed 
 with great agility, he managed so fortunately as to take 
 the dove ; and opening his way through the crowd, bent 
 one knee before the Lady Elvira, and offering the bird, 
 he called her attention to the brooch of very large and 
 most beautiful diamonds, which was hanging from its 
 neck. 
 
 The Lady Elvira, with a gracious smile, accepted 
 the dove, and bringing it near her cheek to caress it, 
 the frightened bird flapped its wings so as to discom- 
 pose the blond hair which fell in ringlets over the 
 snow-like face of the maiden, tinged with an incarnate 
 color by the mishap. While she was endeavoring to 
 detach the jewel from the dove's neck, Fanfulla rose, 
 and said : 
 
 " I believe there are no richer diamonds than these in 
 the world ; but, my Lady, to place them by your eyes 
 will only dishonor them." 
 
 A smile of complacency was the reward Fanfulla re- 
 ceived for his courteous address. 
 
 Some of my readers, accustomed perhaps to the for- 
 mal restraints wnich modern civilization has put on every 
 kind of social intercourse, will think, within himself, that 
 this compliment was rather double distilled. Let him, 
 therefore, reflect, that even for a man of arms of the 
 sixteenth century, and for a hair-brained fellow like that 
 youth of Lodi, it was certainly going too far ; but what- 
 ever I may say in his excuse, the best apology for him is
 
 232 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 that the daughter of Gonzalo thought he had spoken 
 only what was elegant and True. 
 
 But Fanfulla felt envy and spite when the Lady El- 
 vira, after having very closely examined and admired 
 the clasp, turned to Fieramosca, and placing a large pin 
 of gold in his hand, requested him to fasten it on her 
 waist. Vittoria Colonna, who was near by, gravely ad- 
 vanced to perform that office with her own hands ; and 
 Ettore, feeling annoyed at the indiscretion of the request 
 of the Lady Elvira, was in the act of returning the pin ; 
 but Elvira, who was whimsical and testy, like all children 
 who have always had over-indulgent pai-ents, interposed, 
 and spoke to Fieramosca, with an air which ill concealed 
 her vexation, thus : 
 
 " Are you so much accustomed to wield the sword that 
 you disdain to hold a pin in your hands for even one 
 moment ? " The Italian had to comply. Vittoria Colon- 
 na turned away, plainly showing in her handsome and 
 noble countenance how far she would be from employing 
 any of these devices ; and Fanfulla, throwing a glance at 
 Fieramosca, said : 
 
 " Thou art born in luck ; others sow and thou reapest ; " 
 and went away whistling an air, as if he were alone in 
 the streets, and not in the midst of such company. 
 
 But Gonzalo's gifts were not all reserved only for the 
 ladies ; he had provided for the guests from the French 
 camp ; and the Duke of Nemours, as well as his barons, 
 received costly presents of rings, woven pieces of golden 
 wire as ornaments for their caps, and other articles. 
 The great Captain had a good reason for so much dis- 
 play ; he wished to make the French understand that not 
 only he had plenty to provide his troops with, but he had 
 even a surplus to spend in gallant entertainments.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 233 
 
 The episode of the doves was ended ; and every one 
 regaining his place, was preparing for the toasts, the time 
 for them drawing near. 
 
 The Duke of Nemours, following the French custom, 
 arose, and filling the glass, addressed the Lady Elvira, 
 and begged of her to hold him, thenceforward, for her 
 knight, save his allegiance to the Re Cristianissimo. 
 The damsel accepted the offer, and answered with much 
 courtesy. After a mutual and prolonged pledging of 
 each other in the cup, and quaffing of goblets to the 
 health of one another, Gonzalo rose from the table, in 
 which movement all followed him, and repaired to a bal- 
 cony looking over the sea, to spend in genial intercourse 
 the few hours which remained before the close of that 
 day.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 IN every fortress of the olden times, a large hall was 
 always built on the ground-floor, to serve for a place of 
 resort where the men-at-arms would gather together. 
 In the hall which had been built for this purpose, in the 
 citadel of Barletta, a theatre, somewhat of the same kind 
 as those built now-a-days, was temporarily erected for 
 the day to which our story refers ; it was not very unlike 
 those which are seen in our time, with the only differ- 
 ence that with us the curtain is generally hoisted up, while 
 with them it was lowered down, and let fall on the place 
 where musicians now sit. They had secured the services 
 of an itinerant troupe, from one of the neighboring towns 
 on the sea-shore. The company had been performing at 
 Venice during the carnival, and they were now going 
 from place to place, giving dramas and comedies on their 
 way to Naples for the festivals of San Gennaro, and to 
 Palermo for those of Santa Rosalia. Being engaged to 
 appear on this occasion before an audience so select, the 
 troupe had taken great pains to have every thing ready in 
 the best style. It was scarcely night, when the spectators 
 were all seated, and the signal was given to begin the 
 performance. A clumsy canvas, which served the pur- 
 pose of a curtain, having been lowered, the spectators 
 saw a platform, on one side of which was erected a por- 
 tico ornamented with statues and columns, and appeared 
 to be the entrance into a court ; and on the entablature
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 235 
 
 was written in letters of gold, " LAND OF BABYLON." 
 There sat on a throne, surrounded by his magnates, a 
 king with a golden sceptre, dressed in oriental style, 
 wearing an immense turban covered with jewels, and 
 surmounted by a crown ; the centre of the stage was 
 intended to represent a sea-shore ; and on the opposite 
 side appeared a cavern, opening under the rock of an 
 Alpine mountain crowded with trees and crags, and from 
 its entrance a dragon issuing from time to time, looking 
 as if he was guarding a goat's fleece with golden hair 
 wonderfully shining that hung from a tree near by. 
 
 A woman, tall, stout, and of handsome features, sat by 
 the king on a lower throne; she had on a dress of red 
 satin, with a trail six feet long, and on her shoulders a 
 large cape of black velvet, after the French fashion ; at 
 her side, a scythe took the place of a scimitar, and she 
 held in her hand a book and a wand. It was Medea. 
 
 In a few moments a vessel came up to the shore, and 
 a crowd of young men, in military dress, were landed ; 
 one of them, exceedingly handsome, was covered all over 
 with steel and coat-of-mail, except the head. He was 
 Jason ; two young Moors carried his helmet and buckler. 
 
 He advanced, and having made a deep obeisance to 
 the king, he began an address in rhymed verses, which 
 did not sound very harmonious to Vittoria Colonna, and, 
 I think, will not much please my readers. He began 
 
 thus : 
 
 Di Cristianita venemo, 
 Argonaut! se chiamemo, 
 Al Soldan di Babilona, 
 Che Dio salvi sua corona. 
 
 We come from Christendom, 
 We are called Argonauts, 
 We come to the Sultan of Babylon, 
 May God preserve his crown.
 
 236 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 And he went on in this strain, telling how they had come 
 to take away the golden fleece. The king JEetes, having 
 held counsel with his courtiers, and with his daughter, 
 replied that he was pleased with their enterprise, and left 
 Jason alone with Medea. 
 
 Jason immediately began to make love to the damsel, 
 and begged her aid, promising that he would bring her 
 to Christendom, where he would marry her, and make 
 a great queen of her. Medea very readily yielded, and 
 instructed him how to use certain incantations, with 
 which it would be easy to stupefy the dragon ; caution- 
 ing him, however, not to use the name of Saints, or 
 make the sign of the cross, as in that case the charms 
 would become powerless. She then left him. Jason, 
 turning to his companions, protested that it was not fair 
 and just for a good knight to conquer the dragon with 
 sorceries, and therefore he would try at first to overcome 
 it Avith his arms ; and brandishing the sword, and covering 
 himself with the shield, which one of the squires handed 
 to him, while another clasped his helmet, he advanced 
 to attack the dragon. But the savage beast, rushing 
 from the cavern and belching flames, defended itself so 
 well, that Jason had to give it up after a contest of a few 
 minutes. His brothers in arms, with much earnestness, 
 conjured him to employ the incantations, by which he 
 easily succeeded in stupefying the beast, and took the 
 fleece down without much ado. This being accomplished, 
 Medea reappeared, urging them to go on board the 
 vessel with her. On that, a great noise arose from the 
 land ; it was the sound of trumpets, and timbrels, clari- 
 ons, and other Moorish instruments. During a pause 
 in the music, a young man on horseback, dressed in 
 Saracenic style, rushed upon the shore, and challenged
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSOA. 237 
 
 Jason, who took up the gauntlet, and with a few masterly 
 blows laid him slain on the ground. But when he was 
 repairing to his ship, ^etes made his appearance, sur- 
 rounded by his barons, and seeing his daughter in the 
 vessel with sails set, and his son Absyrtus murdered, 
 ordered his men to prevent the flight of the Argonauts. 
 Then Medea began her incantations ; the air was en- 
 veloped in darkness, and a troop of men, in most out- 
 landish attire, looking like demons, running to and fro 
 with blazing torches, set fire to Babylon, which was in- 
 stantly consumed. In that tumult, the king, as well as 
 all his barons, were carried away by the Argonauts, who 
 were seen in the distance sailing away in safety with 
 their booty, and the performance was over. 
 
 If any of our readers should be of that class who 
 forever praise the art and mechanism displayed in the 
 modern theatre, I wish them to pause a moment, and 
 reflect that the talent, which in our days is so skilfully 
 employed to di'aw applause from the spectators, and 
 which generally consists in arranging matters so that the 
 whole performance must necessarily wind up with a 
 conflagration, or a catastrophe, with Olympus or Ere- 
 bus looming at a distance, does not entirely belong to 
 our age, but was employed in the management of the 
 scenes, and was highly appreciated by the public of the 
 sixteenth century. 
 
 The company before whom this performance was en- 
 acted, although composed of persons not devoid of educa- 
 tion, was satisfied, or at least appeared to be. And to 
 tell the truth, if we take into consideration the abilities 
 of those players, and the place where they were obliged 
 to perform, they achieved even more than could be reason- 
 ably expected. But that portion of the guests, that were
 
 238 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 not allowed to mingle with the noblemen and the knights, 
 were enjoying another spectacle of a similar nature, got 
 up expressly for them in the court-yard, and certainly it 
 was far more appreciated if we should judge from the 
 shouts of applause which rent the air. 
 
 Some Spanish soldiers had obtained leave to perform 
 as well as they could a national comedy in their own 
 language ; for this purpose they had set apart a cor- 
 ner of the yard, and therein with planks and curtains 
 had made a temporary structure, (they called it a thea- 
 tre,) and had been rehearsing for several days, every one 
 endeavoring to commit to memory and personate his 
 part in the best manner. They had succeeded in put- 
 ting together a comedy very acceptable to the Spaniards, 
 called Las Mocedades del Cid, which literally means the 
 Tricks of the Cid, or more properly his youthful capers; 
 after the comedy, if there was time left, they were to 
 perform a Saynete by way of petite piece, as the French 
 call it. 
 
 Both the drama in the hall of the castle, and the com- 
 edy in the court-yard, were commenced at the same time. 
 A large concourse of people crowded before the stage 
 erected for the latter performance : squad-drillers, offi- 
 cers, soldiers, townsmen, and people from the suburbs, 
 shopkeepers, and an infinite rabble. The aristocracy of 
 this class occupied reserved seats near the platform, and 
 as the radii of this crowd reached out from this centre, 
 the ranks were swollen by individuals of lower grades, 
 and of meaner appearance ; until, at the outskirts, there 
 were none to be seen but ragamuffins and ragged boys. 
 Admittance was free ; hence, no end to the concourse ; 
 and if the distance prevented many from enjoying the 
 amusement, those who were at the farthest end, by way
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 239 
 
 of compensation, shouted and hissed, clapped their hands, 
 and encored at random, to the great annoyance of those 
 nearer, who gave vent to their ill-repressed vexation 
 by repeating the word Zitto (hush), which, was heard 
 from one side or another, and which, instead of stilling 
 the noise, added new stimulus to the vociferations. 
 
 Amidst that motley crowd, so absorbed in their enjoy- 
 ment, a man could be seen hovering around, a man of 
 abject appearance and wretched garments, but whose 
 countenance and bearing distinguished him from the rest 
 of the people. His restless and anxious moving to and 
 fro indicated that some motive far different from that of 
 seeking pleasure had led him thither. It was Pietraccio. 
 He had come to the Rock for the purpose of killing 
 Valentino, and to warn Fieramosca of the danger of 
 Ginevra ; but finding himself in the midst of that mul- 
 titude, he became perplexed, perceiving how difficult it 
 was for him to find those he was looking for. The 
 reader, perhaps, will be astonished to find an assassin, 
 for whose head a price had been offered, daring to come 
 to the city and exposing himself to the danger of being 
 discovered ; and certainly, if we should judge from the 
 state of society in our days, nothing would have been 
 more dangerous than to place himself within the power 
 of gendarmes who were watching over the security of 
 the public. But such dangers did not encompass a man 
 like Pietraccio in those times ; and on that occasion, when 
 the excitement of the people and the anxiety of his own 
 mind, consequent on the murder of the Podesta, had 
 died away, he might feel as perfectly secure in Barletta, 
 (especially as it was night,) as if he had been among 
 his comrades in the bushes. But no matter how perilous 
 was the undertaking in which he had embarked, he is too
 
 240 ETTOKE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 well accustomed to get out of difficulties, he is thirsting 
 for vengeance, and he will find the way to surmount all 
 obstacles. Let us leave him to take care of himself, and 
 go back to the principal actors of our history. 
 
 It was very near two o'clock in the night, when, the 
 performances of the theatre being over, the company had 
 repaired to the banquet room, which by that time had 
 been already transformed into a dancing hall, and was 
 illumined by wax lights arranged all around on large 
 candelabra hanging from the walls, and on chandeliers 
 hanging from the centre of the ceiling. The musicians 
 were at the same places in open balconies, at one third 
 of the distance between the floor and the entablature. 
 Besides the musicians, who occupied one side, the place 
 was crowded with persons of inferior rank, who wished 
 to witness a spectacle in which they could not take part. 
 
 Gonzalo, with his guest and the ladies, sat on a dais 
 raised near the wall on the side where the banners and 
 standards hung. As the hall became filled, the Duke 
 of Nemours rose, and opened the dance with the Lady 
 Elvira. 
 
 When they had regained their seats, Fieramosca, wish- 
 ing to show his courtesy even on this occasion, advanced 
 to offer his hand to the maiden, protesting however his 
 ignorance of the art of dancing ; she accepted the offer 
 with marked pleasure. Then other couples were made ; 
 and Fanfulla, among the rest, being unable to engage the 
 Lady Elvira, made choice of the one whom he thought 
 to be the handsomest woman of Barletta, and contrived 
 to place himself so that, in the contra-dance, he should 
 find himself face to face with Ettore and his partner. 
 His endeavors to watch every movement of the Lady 
 Elvira, and to catch all the beaux-mots she wafted to
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 241 
 
 Ettore, must have had a souring effect on his heart ; for 
 the excited looks of the Spanish maiden betrayed too well 
 her liking for Fieramosca. The flourishes of the band, 
 the exercise, the repeated grasping of the hand, and the 
 familiarity which dancing allows between persons who in 
 other walks of life would demean towards one another 
 with the utmost reserve, had created in the daughter of 
 Gonzalo an excitement of imagination which she could 
 not well suppress. Both Ettore and Fanfulla had noticed 
 ft ; it was a cause of pain to the former, and of jealousy 
 to the latter. Fanfulla kept up an incessant fire, torment- 
 ing Fieramosca either with broken expressions or mali- 
 cious glances. Ettore did not relish such jokes, and the 
 half serious, half melancholy looks with which he received 
 the railleries of his friend were interpreted by the Lady 
 Elvira in a fashion of her own, very far from their real 
 meaning. 
 
 At last the Lady Elvira, with that rash imprudence 
 which was so prominent a feature in her character, tak- 
 ing the opportunity of an instant in which she was hold- 
 ing Ettore by the hand, leaned towards him and whis- 
 pered in his ear : " When the ball is over, I will be in 
 the balcony over the sea ; come there, I wish to speak 
 to you." 
 
 Ettore was painfully surprised at these words, which 
 only portended the approach of a serious intrigue, and 
 hummed a kind of consent with a nod of the head and 
 a slight change in his countenance, but gave no decisive 
 answer. Whether it was from want of precaution when the 
 Lady Elvira whispered those words in Ettore's ears, or be- 
 cause Fanfulla was too much on the alert, the fact is that 
 he also heard those ill-fated words, and cursing in his own 
 heart the good luck which was all on the side of Fiera- 
 ll
 
 242 ETTORE FIERAMU.SC A. 
 
 mosca, he muttered to himself: " can't I make this 
 giddy girl pay for it ? " 
 
 Ettore for his part was a prey to contending thoughts. 
 He did not feel the least inclined to yield to the charms of 
 the handsome Spaniard ; for in the first place the image 
 of Ginevra was too deeply graven in his heart ; and then 
 he was too wise a man to think for a moment of making 
 sport of the daughter of Gonzalo. And in truth with those 
 arts she could never reach Ettore's heart, because he was 
 not one of those men who are always ready to grasp an 
 opportunity in these matters. But, on the other hand, he 
 could not brook the idea of being thought uncourteous, 
 unfeeling, or even worse ; as, unfortunately, it is one of 
 the contradictions of the world to brand certain acts as 
 bad, and at the same time to give the name of fool and 
 coward to those who will not be guilty of them. During 
 the rest of the dance he tortured his mind to contrive 
 some means by which he might get out of the difficulty 
 honorably ; at last the time for the rendezvous was drawing 
 near, he made up his mind resolutely that he would not 
 expose himself to do the least thing which might wrong 
 Ginevra. And reflecting that while he was in the midst 
 of so much enjoyment, she was in a lonely Monastery in 
 the midst of the sea, left alone by everybody, and very 
 probably thinking only of him, his heart burned with 
 shame that he should have, even for a moment, enter- 
 tained a regard for anything else above her love ; there- 
 fore, as soon as he had concluded his dance with the 
 Lady Elvira, anxious to hasten away from the hall, he 
 thought to offer for an apology one of those headaches, 
 which, in the sixteenth century, were as admirable an 
 excuse as they are on many occasions even in the nine- 
 teenth.
 
 ETTORE FIEKAMOSCA. 243 
 
 The young gentlemen, who had taken part in the 
 contra-dance, following the custom of the times, for the 
 purpose of being more free in motion, had taken off the 
 mantles they wore on the left shoulder and deposited 
 them all together in a room adjoining the hall, and made 
 their appearance in doublets and tights, which generally 
 were of white satin. Fanfulla and Ettore were both 
 dressed in this fashion, and their height as well as their 
 dress made them appear much alike ; only by putting on 
 their mantles, a difference might be perceived ; Fiera- 
 mosca wore one of azure color embroidered with silver, 
 Fanfulla's was vermilion. 
 
 Ettore met Diego Garcia, and requested him to offer 
 to Gonzalo and his daughter his regrets because of a 
 severe headache which constrained him to retire ; and 
 he repaired to the room where he had left his mantle. 
 As he was crossing the threshold, the crowd having given 
 way a little, he had no one close to his person, and he 
 felt a blow on his shoulder as if some heavy object had 
 fallen from above ; looking to his feet, where the thing 
 had fallen in rebounding, he saw a bit of paper in which 
 something weighty had been wrapped. He looked up 
 to the balcony whence it seemed to have fallen, but he 
 discovered no person's eye looking down towards him. 
 He was going forward ; however, he stooped, picked up 
 the parcel, and, unfolding it, he found that it contained a 
 pebble for the purpose of giving it weight, that it might 
 fall to the intended spot. There was written in a rude 
 and scarcely readable hand : " The Lady Ginevra will 
 be abducted from Sant' Orsola by order of Duca Valen- 
 tino at the stroke of three o'clock. He who warns you will 
 wait for you, with three companions, at the large gate of 
 the Castle, and he will have a javelin in his hand."
 
 244 KTTORE F1EKAMOSCA. 
 
 Ettore's frame shivered to the very marrow, and the 
 thrill was increased by remembering that the clock had 
 already struck half-past two. There was no time to lose. 
 With a countenance as pale as that of the man who, mor- 
 tally wounded, bounds on his last steps and falls to die, 
 he was at the door with the rapidity of the lightning, 
 then down the stairs at a ruinous speed, without mantle 
 or cap, to the greatest amazement of all who saw him, 
 he reached the place of rendezvous with such a fury 
 that he had to hold on to the huge iron ring of the 
 gate to stop himself. The vault of the entry was very 
 dark ; and, while panting from running and anxiety, he 
 looked around. The man with the javelin in hand, left 
 the wall against which he had ensconced himself, and 
 advanced towards him. 
 
 Many had observed the hurried flight of Fieramosca, 
 and the remarkable change of his countenance ; but, as 
 they heard from Diego Garcia the cause which Ettore 
 himself had given for his going away, had no thought of 
 following him. But Inigo and Brancaleone, who loved 
 him most dearly, were not so easily satisfied, but followed 
 him, and although they could not keep up with his swift 
 pace, they had him in sight, and reached the gate a few 
 moments after him. 
 
 They found Fieramosca, who, having hold of Pie- 
 traccio, hurried him along, saying : " let us go, quick, 
 quick." He saw his friends, and said to them in 
 great haste : "if you are my friends, come along and 
 help me against that traitor of a Valentino ; we'll take a 
 boat, we are seven, we shall be at Sant' Orsola in no 
 time." Brancaleone, glancing at himself and companion, 
 said : " where are the weapons ? " In fact, none of 
 the three had even a sword. Fieramosca was raving,
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 245 
 
 stamping the ground, and with his hands on his head, 
 looked like a crazy creature. Then Brancaleone, who, on 
 an emergency always spoke to the point, and had plenty 
 of resources, remarked : " thou, Ettore, go to the shore 
 with these men, get boat and oars ready, and wait for 
 us ; thou, Inigo, come along ; " and they both started 
 on a run, while Fieramosca cried after them, " hurry, 
 hurry, it is almost three o'clock ; " Although his friends 
 understood neither the sense of these words, nor the 
 motive of so much precipitation, still, being satisfied 
 thaf it must have been something of very great impor- 
 tance, they rushed into the armory of Colonna's quarters, 
 and snatching from the Avails jacks, helmets, and swords 
 for three persons, returned with the same speed, and over- 
 took him as he had just entered the boat. They then 
 jumped into the skiff while Inigo, who was the last, with 
 a foot on shore, pushed it off", and grasping the oars, they 
 bent over them and strained them fiercely in the effort. 
 Emerging from the little harbor which was behind the 
 citadel, they had to pass under the clock-tower ; as they 
 neared the spot, they heard that rumbling of the wheels 
 which precedes the striking of the hours. The unhappy 
 Ettore bent his body down, leaning his head towards the 
 keel, as if he feared lest the tower should then fall and 
 crush him. After a few seconds the large bell gave the 
 three fatal strokes, and the deadened sound was heard 
 losing itself in decreasing vibrations, faintly repeated by 
 the distant echo. 
 
 Before we narrate the result of the voyage of our 
 friends, we must go back to the dancing hall for a few 
 moments. 
 
 Fanfulla, who, by accident as well as by cunning, had 
 gained possession of the Lady Elvira's secret, had deter-
 
 246 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 mined to make it turn into account, but did not know 
 how he could succeed ; but when he saw his rival hurry- 
 ing away from the place without cape or mantle, a very 
 wild thought entered into his head ; and being a man who 
 never paused to reflect when there was an opportunity 
 for indulging in some foolery, no matter what the conse- 
 quences might be, betook himself at once to carry his 
 plan into effect. 
 
 He had watched the daughter of Gonzalo, and had 
 seen her going out to the balcony, when the dance was 
 over. It was evident that she had not noticed Ettore's 
 departure. The wag hastened to the cloak-room, where 
 besides his own cap, there was none left but that of Fiera- 
 mosca ; he put it on his head so that the feathers would 
 shade his countenance, and threw over his shoulders the 
 azure mantle of his friend ; and any one who had not seen 
 his countenance, would certainly have taken him for Fie- 
 ramosca. Being thus attired, he made his way through 
 the crowd, and went by stealth to the balcony, which had 
 no other light but what it received through the windows 
 from the halls of the palace. Around a basin perpetually 
 filled by a jet of water, were placed many large vases with 
 orange trees, amidst which it was very easy to be con- 
 cealed from any one who might happen to come out of 
 the dancing rooms. When Fanfulla entered the balcony, 
 haply, there was no person but the Lady Elvira, whom 
 he saw sitting at the balustrade over the sea, resting her 
 elbow upon the iron rail, and supporting her head with 
 her hand, while she was looking up to the sky. 
 
 At that moment the moon was veiled by some clouds 
 driven before the wind. Fanfulla feared, unless he im- 
 proved the opportunity, he might be recognized when the 
 sky became clear ; therefore, with a very soft step, he ap-
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 247 
 
 proached the Lady Elvira, who did not perceive him 
 until he stood by her side. As she turned to look at him, 
 Fanfulla lowered his head with grace and address, and, 
 reverently falling on one knee beside her, he took her 
 hand and pressed his lips upon it ; he did it so carefully 
 that he concealed his face entirely, and the daughter of 
 Gonzalo had not the least doubt as to his being Fiera- 
 mosca. 
 
 She made a motion as if to withdraw her hand, but, 
 as is often the case on such occasions, yielded to the 
 easily forgiven force which detained it. Although the 
 disposition of the Lady Elvira was whimsical, capricious 
 and testy, we must believe that she could not but feel a 
 reproach at finding herself in so close an interview with 
 a young man, and that she actually trembled lest she 
 might be overtaken in that situation by her father, and 
 much more by her austere friend. 
 
 A strong breath of wind blew aside the cloud that 
 veiled the moon, and as it was full, it threw a most 
 vivid light over the whole place, and illumined the glit- 
 tering dress of Elvira and of Fanfulla. Perhaps neither 
 of them took notice of it ; but a piercing cry, ascending 
 from the foot of the balcony, and betraying a female 
 voice, made them start, and thinking that others might 
 be attracted by it from the dancing hall, they hurriedly 
 withdrew by different ways to the interior rooms, where 
 those who had heard the cry, having their attention en- 
 gi-ossed with other affairs, did not pay any more attention 
 to it. The first cry was followed by a second one more 
 faint, which, dying away in the throat of her who uttered 
 it, was overwhelmed by the heavy fall of a human body 
 at the bottom of a boat. But the balcony was deserted ; 
 in the palace they were all bent on enjoying themselves ;
 
 248 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA 
 
 no person looked out to see who the unfortunate woman 
 was who was crying for help. 
 
 While these events were happening at the Rock, the 
 boat which carried Fieramosca and his companions, pro- 
 pelled by seven stout men, was flying over the waves 
 towards the Monastery, leaving behind a long wake of 
 foam furrowing the sea. Brancaleone, seeing that Fiera- 
 mosca was only bent on plying the oars with his might 
 and main, said resolutely : " Now, Ettore, I do not 
 know where you are carrying us, but surely this does 
 not look like an affair of small importance, and if we 
 have to work in earnest, these harnesses at the bottom of 
 the boat will not be of much good to us." At these 
 words, they began to put on their armor, one by one, 
 taking care that only one oar was left idle at a time. 
 Having girded on their swords, and covered their heads 
 with light helmets, they bent on their oars with renewed 
 vigor, straining their eyes over the sea to descry the 
 enemy, should he approach. 
 
 During the way, Ettore, in disconnected words, in- 
 formed his friends for what purpose he needed their as- 
 sistance. Then a small boat hove in sight, and they made 
 for it ; but when they came near, they saw it occupied by 
 only one person, slowly paddling towards Barletta. To 
 lose no time, they again steered their course towards the 
 Monastery, and had not noticed who was the person that 
 occupied the boat. Inigo advised that they should ap- 
 proach and ask for information, but Ettore would not 
 listen to it ; the appointed hour had passed, and he could 
 hardly hope to be in time. 
 
 Had he followed Inigo's advice, how much misfortune 
 would have been prevented ! 
 
 The Monastery loomed up as they approached.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 249 
 
 Fieramosca had his eyes fixed upon it, and could discern 
 every window, but no lights. Then a low, long boat, 
 sweeping over the waters like a swallow, suddenly hove 
 in sight, within two shots' distance, on the left side. 
 Ettore, Inigo, and Brancaleone, all at one time, and with 
 low voices, observed : There they are ; and turning the 
 bow towards the marauders, they redoubled their efforts ; 
 the others, perceiving that they were pursued, tried to 
 escape, and pulled for their lives ; but the pursuers felt 
 their vigor trebled. The space between the two boats 
 is seen to diminish ; the parties can hear each other's 
 conversation ; and Fieramosca, stretching himself up as 
 much as he could without stopping from plying the oar, 
 already descries a woman lying at the stern, watched by 
 two men, and cries Traitors ! with a roar that reechoed 
 within the walls of the Monastery. 
 
 Hurry, hurry, pull away, pull, was at 
 once repeated by many husky voices from closed teeth ; 
 and their prow was touching the enemy's boat. With 
 the rapidity of the lightning, Ettore drops the oar, and 
 with uplifted sword he throws himself among the ruffians 
 who stood ready to receive him at the point of their 
 weapons. The effort he made in leaping from one boat 
 to the other sent his own craft backward, and thus he 
 found himself alone to receive the shock of the blows which 
 the enemy aimed at his head and breast, and from which 
 he was protected by the headpiece and the breastplate ; 
 but his companions, seeing his danger, were soon to the res- 
 cue. Pietraccio, who was the nearest, was also the next one 
 to jump into the boat, but he scarcely found himself where 
 he thought he would meet Valentino, when a blow from 
 an oar knocked him down senseless. Inigo and Branca- 
 leone stood by Ettore, and fighting in that crowd, sword 
 11*
 
 250 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 to sword, (and indeed, they were all good swordsmen,) they 
 neither could inflict a wound nor receive any harm ; 
 they could only give and receive blows and thrusts with 
 wonderful rapidity ; and in the confusion, they made the 
 boat roll one side and the other, at the imminent peril 
 of being capsized. 
 
 Pietraccio's men had not been able to come forward, 
 because there was room only for three men abreast ; 
 but they did good work. They lifted up the female 
 who was at the stern, and laid her down in their own 
 boat. As the three combatants saw the woman safe, 
 (following the advice of Brancaleone, given in a whisper,) 
 they slowly retired, and bolting out of the enemy's boat 
 into their own, they gave the others a chance to part. 
 Ettore would not have let his prey escape on so easy 
 terms had he recognized Valentino in the melee ; but as 
 he did not see him among the rest, he felt loath to imbrue 
 his hands with the blood of the knaves. Moreover, satis- 
 fied (at least he thought so) that Ginevra was rescued, he 
 thought it was his duty to comfort her. On the other 
 hand, Don Miguel became furious on seeing the fruit of so 
 many hardships suddenly snatched from his hands, and he 
 was angry with himself for not having secured the posses- 
 sion of the woman at the forepart of the boat ; but the mis- 
 hap was made now, and he knew very well that to attempt 
 a recovery of his prey from the hands of these valiant 
 young men would be as successful as trying to dig holes 
 in water. But Valentino's hireling did not submit to his 
 disappointment without some revenge. While the three 
 friends were leaving the boat, he had pursued them with a 
 sword in the right hand and a stiletto in the left. He 
 aimed many blows at Fieramosca, who was the last to 
 leave ; and as he was stepping over the side of the boat,
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA- 251 
 
 he succeeded in pricking him lightly with the point of his 
 dagger ; but in the excitement of the scuffle, Ettore did 
 not perceive it. 
 
 Having thus parted, one party continued their journey 
 towards Barletta ; the other steered towards the Mon- 
 astery. 
 
 The woman was wrapped up in a sheet. Fieramosca, 
 still panting from overexertion, bolstered her up the best 
 way he could. Removing the covering which enveloped 
 her, instead of Ginevra, he saw Zorais in a swoon. At any 
 other time he would have blessed God for having liber- 
 ated her ; but then he found that he had obtained nothing 
 at the very moment he thought he had accomplished every- 
 thing. What had become of Ginevra? How did this 
 woman happen to be here ? He gave a deep sigh, strik- 
 ing his forehead with his fist, and urging his companions 
 to pull away at the oars. Not knowing the mistake, 
 they were astonished that he should not yet be satisfied. 
 In a few moments, he found himself at the island, and ran 
 with great speed up into Ginevra's room. He found every- 
 thing opened and deserted, and the most profound quiet 
 in the Monastery. As he was coming out to obtain some 
 information elsewhere, he met his companions who were 
 carrying Zorais. She had, by that time, recovered, but 
 she could not answer the urgent and anxious questions of 
 Fieramosca, except by saying that towards three of 
 the clock on that evening she had been awakened by a 
 number of men who had entered her room, had enveloped 
 her in a sheet, and carried her away to a boat. She re- 
 membered no more ; she knew nothing of Ginevra, whom 
 she had not seen since noon, when, perceiving that she 
 was in low spirits, she thought better to leave her alone, 
 and at the usual hour she had retired to rest, without in- 
 quiring after her.
 
 252 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 
 
 Ettore listened to the whole story, bolt upright, with 
 his eyes fixed on Zorais ; and at the end of her words his 
 countenance began to change, becoming pale, and his 
 cheeks sinking ; at last he was obliged to sit down, and 
 as he tried to rise again, strength failed him. One of 
 the party had gone by this time to knock at the doors of 
 the Monastery, and having awakened Gennaro, he was 
 returning with a light. Brancaleone and Inigo were 
 wondering at the countenance of Fieramosca, so fright- 
 fully changed, and they imagined it was the effect of 
 much labor and anxiety. He tried again to rise, but his 
 strength had left him entirely, and his head falling back- 
 ward on the chair, he said, with faltering voice : 
 " Brancaleone ! Inigo ! I have never been so ill in my 
 life, and I do not feel strength enough to lift a feather, 
 much less to wield a sword ; time flies by, and what 
 will become of Ginevra ? Oh ! that I might recover my 
 strength for only one hour ! . . . and then to become dust ! 
 ... I beseech you, dearest friends, let not a moment pass. 
 . . . You go ... I cannot say where ; . . . but go to 
 Barletta ; search for her ; liberate the woman ; find her 
 out by all means. Eternal God ! that I should not be 
 able to stir one foot in her behalf! . . ." and he tried 
 again, but he found it impossible. Then again he en- 
 treated his companions to leave him, and hurry to help the 
 woman ; and he urged them so much that, feeling there 
 was no time for debating, they left him with a promise 
 that they would soon be back with some news ; and hav- 
 ing returned to the boat with great haste, they* rowed 
 away towards Barletta. 
 
 Zorais, meanwhile, with great solicitude, was trying 
 her best to help her liberator, showing in her words and 
 acts a most tender affection ; and having unlaced the
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 253 
 
 helmet, she was hard at work in undoing the fastenings 
 of his gorget. When the armor was removed, she wiped 
 the cold perspiration running down his brow and neck, 
 and discovered that a wound had been inflicted under the 
 shirt collar. 
 
 "Alas! thou art wounded!" she exclaimed. And 
 with some linen wiping away the little blood which had 
 oozed out, and which made the wound appear greater 
 than it actually was, she felt encouraged, seeing it so 
 light, and said : 
 
 " It is nothing ! only a scratch ! " but then examin- 
 ing it more closely, she noticed that a rim of reddish pur- 
 ple was forming around the wound, and a livid hue was 
 fast covering the eyes and the lips of Fieramosca, while 
 his hands and ears, 'becoming of the color of box, were 
 icy and stiff. Born and reared in the east, she was 
 skilful in the treatment of wounds of every kind, and 
 she immediately suspected that the poniard was poisoned. 
 She begged of the youth to go to bed ; and supporting 
 him, not without great effort, she succeeded in leading 
 him to it. Upon feeling his pulse, she found it very slow 
 and corded. 
 
 However, the sufferings of the body were nothing in 
 comparison to the tortures which gradually took posses- 
 sion of Fieramosca's mind, presenting themselves under 
 new forms. The adventures of that night, and Ginevra's 
 danger had, up to that moment, occupied his mind entire- 
 ly. But, as it happens to the man who is condemned to 
 die, if on the last night of his life he can enjoy some 
 sleep, he will awake with the sudden idea of his immi- 
 nent death falling upon his heart like a dead weight. 
 In the same manner, Fieramosca had scarcely recovered 
 from the consternation in which he was, when he thought
 
 254 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 of the challenge, and of the oath he had given that he 
 would not expose himself to any danger of being harmed. 
 He thought of the shame which he would bring upon 
 himself, should he fail to be at his post. He thought 
 of the grief of his heart, should he be prevented from 
 raising his sword with his companions, how the French 
 would sneer at him, and how the Italian honor would 
 be jeoparded. All these thoughts shot through his mind, 
 and shook his nerves, so that all the muscles of his body 
 became contracted in convulsive movements, and he gave 
 a sigh of so much bitterness, that Zorais started upon 
 hearing it, and inquired what was the matter. Ettore 
 cried : 
 
 " I am dishonored forever ! The challenge ! Zorais, 
 the challenge ! " and he struck his forehead with 
 clenched fist. "Only a few days hence .... and I 
 am reduced to a state that not a whole month will 
 restore me to my strength. O God ! what great sin 
 have I been guilty of to deserve this misfortune ? " 
 
 The young woman did not know how to reply to 
 these words ; but very probably she thought more of 
 the dangerous state of him whom she loved so much,, 
 than of the fight. There was a danger, and her expe- 
 rience told her that it was every moment increasing. 
 A collapse into a lethargic inaction had suddenly suc- 
 ceeded that moment of excitement. He had fallen on 
 his back, his head heavily hanging on one side of the 
 pillow, the face even paler than before ; the swelling of 
 the veins on the neck appeared convulsive, and Zorais, 
 examining the wound, found it had increased to the size 
 of an inch all around. 
 
 And Ettore still kept on groaning: "Behold the 
 champion of Italian honor ! Here, the glorious award
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 255 
 
 of the battle, the boasting, and the confidence of victory 
 
 hei'e they all come to an end ! And still, before 
 
 God ! where is ray crime ? Could I act differently from 
 what I have done ? " 
 
 But these reasons were very far from giving him any 
 relief, and he thought : 
 
 " To whom shall I tell this story ? to whom my 
 reasons ? And if ever I reveal all, the enemy will be 
 very glad to pretend that they do not believe me, and 
 will say : ' Ettore feigned all this, because he was afraid 
 of us ! ' " 
 
 While his mind was painfully tortured by all these 
 thoughts, the poison, which had been inserted into his 
 body by the stiletto in Don Miguel's hands, was making 
 progress, creeping through the veins which branch off 
 from the surface of the cranium. The suffering youth 
 felt the light of his eyes grow dim, and the clearness of 
 his intellect lose its distinctness, while his temples were 
 racked by pains which at first made everything about 
 him appear unsteady, then to roll around with increasing 
 speed, with an abundance of shining dots which dazzled 
 his eyes. Zorais stood by, looking upon him, affrighted 
 and trembling ; while Ettore kept his eyes open, and glar- 
 ingly riveted upon her. As his senses grew more and 
 more unsteady, and the light from the failing lamp more 
 and more faint, the form and features of the young 
 maiden began to change into those of La Motte. This 
 spectre drew its mouth one side, and expressed a smile 
 bitter and frightful ; then it became larger, and opening 
 the lips, the figure of Graiano d'Asti appeared ; it also 
 increased from small dimensions, until, opening its jaws 
 in like manner, it changed into the pale likeness of 
 the Valentino. Thus these forms being reproduced from
 
 256 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 each other presented as it were a phantasmagoria of 
 those persons, who very naturally must have been most 
 distinct in the mind of the sick man. Among the rest, 
 even Ginevra's image appeared. He appealed to her 
 with the most endearing names, and said : " To let me 
 die thus ! I that loved thee so much ! Oh, take me out 
 of this pit .... Drive away those lizards that creep 
 over my face !...." and other vain and vague words 
 of similar import. At this stage of his sickness, all the 
 figures which he imagined he saw began to mingle to- 
 gether ; at first they formed a mixture of a red and 
 tremulous hue like a lasting flash of lightning ; this by 
 degrees becoming misty, and then darkening, was entirely 
 extinguished, when the youth was bereft of sense and 
 motion.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 To keep pace with the many events which took place 
 simultaneously in different places during that memorable 
 evening, and to bring up at the proper time, in corre- 
 sponding relations, the persons who took part in them, it 
 becomes necessary to hold the reader in suspense as to 
 the fate of the actors. Although this is a favorite plan 
 with historians, we do not deem it very acceptable, when 
 the book is such as to inspire the reader with the de- 
 sire of knowing the final result of events. We shall not 
 offer any apology to our readers for having followed this 
 general rule, which in our case became indispensable. 
 An apology of this nature would be looked upon as the 
 offspring of vanity, and afford cause for a smile at our ex- 
 pense. Modesty in many is virtue ; others can turn its 
 practice to account. 
 
 However, be that as it may, we must take leave even 
 of Fieramosca for a short time. Let us then retrace our 
 steps to the Rock, and visit Valentino, who is tarrying in 
 the small apartments on the lower story over the sea. 
 
 He had failed in accomplishing one of the purposes 
 which had led him to the Spanish camp. His cunning 
 was matched by the wisdom and foresight of Gonzalo, 
 and he could not prevail on him to enter into a league, 
 or even to grant him his support. The Spaniard had 
 kept his word, as far as to keep his concealment secret, 
 but had declined to accede to his other requests. For
 
 258 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 the rest he entertained him with every consideration 
 which was due to his station, if not to his character. 
 During the seven or eight days which passed between 
 the opening and the ending of these negotiations, the- 
 Duke kept close in his little quarters, to escape being 
 noticed ; and if he ever went out for the sake of enjoying 
 the open air, it was always at night, and protected by a 
 mask, as it was customary for men of high station in 
 those times, a custom which, we must allow, was not 
 always followed for hallowed purposes. But, as we have 
 mentioned, he had some other motive in his visiting Bar- 
 letta, besides his political manoeuvres. He was anx- 
 ious to have revenge on the woman who had dared to 
 show contempt for him. And the plots laid for this end, 
 by the dexterity and skill of Don Miguel, were to be 
 consummated that evening. It will appear strange to 
 more than one of our readers that this famous debauchee 
 who had given himself up to every kind of iniquity, 
 should feel so much interested in the possession of one 
 woman, and should so earnestly pursue any trace of her. 
 Truly it would be a mistake to think that love, even of 
 the most abject sort, prompted the desires of Valentino. 
 No : Ginevra had resisted him ; and her resistance was 
 accompanied with contempt and horror for him. She 
 lived happy, he thought, with another. He felt as if he 
 had been made little of, and scorned. And who could 
 ever boast of having kept Cesare Borgia at bay ? 
 
 Did he ever meet any woman, who had beauty, and 
 was not bereft by him of virtue or happiness? and yet 
 there were some among them of the highest respectabil- 
 ity, and who, being connected with men of power, might 
 have deemed themselves well protected and secure. How 
 could it now be borne that a woman little known and
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 259 
 
 less flattered by society, should scorn him who held 
 Italy in fear, from one end to the other ? 
 
 At this time, Valentino knew, from the promises of 
 Don Miguel, that he was near satisfying his revenge, and 
 would say to himself she will have to pay dear for 
 having kept me so long in this dungeon ! In fact, it 
 must have been a sore trial to live in small rooms, so 
 much like a prison, accustomed as he was to the splen- 
 dor of a court ; but he would cheerfully bear a thousand 
 privations for the sake of obtaining his purpose. More- 
 over, he had not been entirely deprived of occupation 
 during those days. Besides the hours he had spent 
 with Gonzalo, and the hours he had been engaged with 
 Don Miguel in planning the best ways to carry out their 
 undertaking, messengers arrived day after day from Ro- 
 magna, sent to him by his faithful men with letters, dis- 
 patches, and information on the affairs of the day. They 
 arrived and departed always by night ; another instance 
 of what Nicolo Machiavelli had asserted, in writing to 
 the Commune of Florence a short time before these 
 events took place, that of all the Courts in the world, in 
 none was secrecy so well kept as in that of the Duke ; 
 and although he did not add by what means this great 
 secrecy was secured, he gave to understand plainly 
 enough, that an impudent tongue was surely punished 
 with the silence of the grave. 
 
 This correspondence was carried by means of light 
 shallops, which sailed along the coasts of Romagna, and 
 found suitable hiding-places among the rocks at the foot 
 of Mount Gargano ; thence, under the cover of night, the 
 messenger was dispatched in a boat to the castle. From 
 such a crew, Don Miguel had selected his men to aid 
 him in the business of that night.
 
 260 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 On that evening, while the castle reechoed with the 
 music and the joy of the festival, Valentino was seated 
 before a table, and to beguile the time, he was examining 
 the files of papers brought to him by the couriers of the 
 previous nights. He was dressed in a cape fastened in 
 front by a row of small buttons, the bust and the sleeves 
 of black satin fitting the person rather tight, and over 
 the sleeves were loose strips of white velvet, confined at 
 four different points around the arms with a list of the 
 same kind of velvet. Three or four buttons unfastened 
 near the collar of the cape, left open to view a coat- 
 of-mail of the finest steel, which the Duke always wore. 
 This style of dress was very often used by the Duke, and 
 those who have visited the gallery of Prince Borghese 
 in Rome, will remember the portrait of the Duke, taken 
 by RafFaello, in this costume. In spite of his robust con- 
 stitution, he had been for some time suffering from a salt 
 humor of an herpetic nature, either creeping through the 
 blood or appearing on the skin, and especially over the 
 face ; and it would then turn its livid paleness into a 
 spongy redness, covered with blotches running with hu- 
 mor. The loathsome deformity of his face was such 
 as to sicken even his most constant attendants ; and a 
 soul like his could not be enclosed in a frame more 
 befittingly portraying its qualities. In consequence of 
 the sedentary life which, so much against his habits, he 
 had been constrained to lead during those days, and from 
 the effects of the weather, it being then spring, those 
 humors were breaking out most furiously, deforming his 
 features more than usual, and giving to his whole frame 
 that unaccountable and restless peevishness, which is gen- 
 erally the consequence of such ailments. 
 
 About two o'clock, when dancing was commenced in
 
 ETTORK FIERAMOSCA. 261 
 
 the halls above, the door leading to the Duke's apart- 
 ment was lightly pushed open by a man dressed in red- 
 brown tights, with a cape reaching half down his thigh, 
 a black hood drawn over his eyes, a sword and a 
 stiletto at his side, and a bundle under his arm. Valen- 
 tino looked up ; and the messenger entering, made a 
 bow and laid on the table the bundle, without a word 
 being uttered by either party. The Duke laid one hand 
 on the package, and said : 
 
 " I shall quit this place to-night ; go to the last room of 
 these apartments ; shut thyself in, and for any noise that 
 thou mayst hear, move not, unless I call thee." 
 
 The man left by a door opposite to that by which he 
 had entered. Cesare Borgia, with the sharp blade of his 
 stiletto, severed the vermilion tapes which fastened to- 
 gether the dispatches he had just received from his father. 
 As he opened the package, a golden ball fell from it and 
 rolled over the table ; the Duke started with a look of 
 great suspicion ; but examining more carefully both pa- 
 pers and seals, he became reassured and resumed his seat. 
 
 Let us not imagine that this fright was the consequence 
 of a panic fear. The ways of administering poison in 
 those days were so various, and even when sent in a 
 letter would produce on the opening an effect so imme- 
 diate, that we may easily pardon the Duke, if in per- 
 ceiving a mysterious unexpected object, he became 
 alarmed ; and if there was a man who should at once 
 think the worse of all mankind, it was certainly Cesare 
 Borgia. 
 
 The letters were written in cypher, the key of which 
 was in possession only of himself and of the writer ; his 
 long practice enabled him to run over the contents with 
 a quick glance. Here we give its substance :
 
 262 ETTOKE F1KRAMOSCA. 
 
 " Alexander had been sounded by the ambassador of 
 the Cristiani^simo on the project of forming a league 
 against the Catholic King, for the purpose of taking from 
 him the kingdom of Naples ; he offered at the same 
 time to join his forces with those of Alexander, in the 
 campaign against Siena, and against the estates of Count 
 Giordano. But Alexander had not thought fit to enter 
 into the compact before he was acquainted with the re- 
 sult of the negotiations between Valentino and Gonzalo." 
 
 " He had received from the mother and paramour of 
 Cardinal Orsino, a sum of money and a jewel of very 
 great value, taken from the palace of Count Giordano, 
 which had been delivered over to pillage by order of 
 Alexander, after the death of the Duke of Gravina, 
 Vitellozzo, and Liverotto of Fermo. 
 
 " It was his desire that the Duke should keep his troops 
 in readiness, that he might, after the death of said Cardi- 
 nal, take the field at Bracciano where the Orsini and 
 their adherents had concentrated their forces. 
 
 " He had been forewarned against a danger which 
 threatened him that year, and he had been advised to 
 carry on his person a small globe of gold, containing a 
 charm of superior power, the like of which was sent to 
 the Duke for the same purpose." 
 
 Although the facts touched in this letter are unfortu- 
 nately true, and the treachery planned against Corneto 
 recoiled on the head of Alexander, and was the cause 
 of his death, we have hesitated before placing them be- 
 fore our readers. But if God, for some inscrutable ends, 
 has allowed that a supreme keeper of the holiest things 
 might abuse them so shamefully, it would be an ill ad- 
 vised purpose to conceal his iniquities, and we should be
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 263 
 
 blamed for our partiality, appearing more jealous for 
 party than for truth, which will forever stand without the 
 aid of dishonest means. The faults of Borgia, and of 
 other ministers of the Church, will be weighed in the 
 scales of God's justice, and man is most solemnly fore- 
 warned of the awful severity of its judgment. But 
 from the ashes of those ministers, as well as from the 
 tombs of the martyrs, towering and powerful, the truth 
 eternally is proclaimed, that not on gold, not on arms, not 
 on the arts of human policy, but on the infallible prom- 
 ises of the Gospel arose, and gloriously stands, the 
 Church of Christ. 
 
 Far different ideas arose in the mind of the Duke of 
 Romagna, as he perused his father's letter. Turning his 
 eyes alternately from the letter to the golden ball, which 
 he kept twirling between his fingers, a smile of compas- 
 sion he believed neither in God nor in his saints ap- 
 peared on his countenance ; but then again, he seemed 
 to be agitated with feelings of a credulous and timid sus- 
 picion ; so true it is that the spirit of man needs to see 
 a principle that, will work beyond the grave. Had he 
 not resolved to depart that night, the contents of that let- 
 ter would have determined him to it. A plot which flat- 
 tered his ambition so much, and might replenish his 
 coffers, was an affair of far more importance than run- 
 ning after a woman. He thought that Don Miguel would 
 not be long in returning with his men ; and so placing the 
 ball in his bosom, with an air of nonchalance which 
 seemed to say " let it be as it will," he began to 
 put together his papers, and whatever else he intended 
 to carry with him. 
 
 In a few minutes everything was ready. Then he 
 resumed his seat as before ; and for want of something
 
 264 ETTOKE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 else to do, he again took the ball from his bosom, ex- 
 amined it over and over, and passing it from one hand 
 to the other, was thinking of him who had sent it ; and 
 was trying to guess what it might contain. Then pass- 
 ing on from one idea to another, he thought of those prin- 
 ciples of religion and of those articles of faith which he 
 himself had once believed, then of his splendid estates, 
 which were the fruit of the abuse of religious power ; and 
 laughing in his heart at the credulity of many, exclaim- 
 ed: "for my part, I enjoy pleasure and power at the 
 expense of all." But he also heard a voice in a faint, 
 but deep tone, rising from under the foundation of so 
 much pride, violence, and irreligion, and repeating : " It 
 might be true ! " 
 
 The Duke strove not to mind it, but he could not stifle 
 it ; he rose and began to walk up and down the room with 
 great impatience, endeavoring to change the course of 
 thought. But to no purpose. Those words, " It might be 
 true ! " were forever sounding in his ears, pursuing him, 
 pressing him, and poisoning, so to speak, the enjoyment of 
 possessing so many honors, so much power, and so much 
 wealth. He threw himself on the bed, burying angrily 
 his head in the pillows ; and calling himself a fool, he 
 succeeded at last in calming himself. The eyelids became 
 heavy, he closed his eyes, and fell asleep. 
 
 But it was not the slumber of a calm soul. The ideas 
 of the waking mind worked in the same direction during 
 his sleep. He dreamt he was in Rome, on the road from 
 the Castle to Saint Peter's. Heaven and earth were in 
 great disorder. Everything looked entirely different 
 from what it used to be, enveloped in darkness, and in 
 an uproar of yelling and shouting. In his efforts to ad- 
 vance towards the Vatican he failed, and was panting
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 265 
 
 with fatigue. He felt as if some persons had hold of 
 him ; he looked around ; he was surrounded by those 
 whom he had hetrayed, poisoned, and murdered ; they 
 had their clutches in his hair and in his flesh, and made 
 the air hideous with long cries of despair. 
 
 Then, as if by magic, he found himself in Saint 
 Peter's, which was the scene of an undistinguishable 
 tumult,' all dark, resounding with loud wails, the walls 
 tottering, the tombs thrown open, and spectres running 
 to and fro ; and when he was harassed by his victims, 
 who incessantly cried, ' Vengeance of God ! " he thought 
 "then this must be the judgment that I would not 
 believe." 
 
 And he struggled desperately to make his way, and 
 seek refuge near the Pontiff, whom he could see at a dis- 
 tance, in the midst of a faint and pale light. But he was 
 held back on one side by his brother, the Duke of Candia, 
 with his wounds wide open, discharging not blood, but a 
 kind of filthy, whitish humor, his features distorted and 
 swollen, like those of a corpse that has been long decay- 
 ing under the waters ; on the other side by the Duke of 
 Biselli, Astorre Manfredi, and women and children, all 
 violently sobbing, and with outstretched hands, crying for 
 justice and revenge ! Alexander was mantled in black 
 vestments, with the yellowish color of death upon his 
 flabby countenance ; and while his figure began slowly 
 to rise, the sobbing and the crying were overwhelmed by 
 an outburst of infernal laughter, emanating from the lips 
 of a demon, who, crouching on the floor, and his chin 
 resting on his knees, shouted, " Jesus Christ, Religion, 
 Popes . . . all an imposture" and that shout rebound- 
 ed in the echo of a protracted howl all along the arches 
 of the church. 
 
 12
 
 266 ETTORE FJERAMOSCA. 
 
 That howl was still in the Duke's ears, when he was 
 entirely awakened and sitting up in his bed. 
 
 He was for a moment frightened, but the dream only 
 confirmed him in his impious belief that he might commit 
 any crime without any fear of punishment in another 
 life. 
 
 As he was drawing encouragement from this thought 
 it was just a few minutes past the hour of three the 
 buzzing noise of so many persons conversing together, 
 the music, the sound of mirth and enjoyment from the 
 halls above, penetrated with a faint and distant sound, 
 through the massive thickness of the vaults into those 
 apartments of the lower story. At that same time, the 
 same noise which had brought to a sudden close the inter- 
 view between the Lady Elvira and Fanfulla, was heard 
 by the Duke, but much nearer, and as if it came from 
 behind the door of his room, which opened over a narrow 
 strip of the beach between the sea and the foundations of 
 the castle. He went out to ascertain whence the noise 
 came, but he only saw an empty boat with the bow rest- 
 ing on the sand. He looked up to the piazza and to the 
 windows, but he could not see a living soul ; he was 
 about returning to his room, but on a second thought he 
 turned around and advanced a few steps towards the skiff, 
 and stretching his neck over its side, he discovered a 
 woman lying prostrate at the bottom of it, with her head 
 between her hands, and moaning from time to time. 
 After the first movement of surprise, he instantly made up 
 his mind, and entering the boat, placed one arm around 
 the waist of the woman, the other under her knees, and 
 thus lifting her, senseless as she was, he carried her into 
 his room and laid her on the bed. But who can tell his 
 amazement, when bringing the light near to her face, he
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 267 
 
 recognized Ginevra ! He had too vivid a remembrance 
 of her looks, to deny the evidence of his eyes ; but how 
 did she come under his power then, alone, and to all ap- 
 pearance having eluded the diligent searches and the 
 plots of Don Miguel ? 
 
 From henceforward he said to himself I will at 
 least believe that there is a devil. Only a befriending 
 devil could serve me so well ; and placing the lamp on a 
 stand near the head of the bed, he seated himself on the 
 side of it, watching Ginevra's face to catch the moment 
 when she would recover. The fiendish pleasure of hav- 
 ing at last a chance to enjoy a draught of long revenge, 
 fired his eyes with a glare like that of an electric 
 spark which flashed between the lids ; and the blotches 
 which disfigured his person seemed to swell, giving his 
 countenance a tinge like the color of blood. Indeed, a 
 countenance, which with physical deformity united the ex- 
 pression of crime, could never be exhibited under a more 
 hideous aspect. On one side was Ginevra, pale, motion- 
 less, with grief deeply graven in her face, her frame 
 helpless and languid, on the other side Valentino, as we 
 have described him, it was a picture of desperate unut- 
 terable sorrow. Both remained in this attitude a long 
 time ; Ginevra might be called happy, as long as in that 
 senseless state, and with eyes closed, she did not know 
 where and in whose power she was ; but this happy 
 unconsciousness did not last long, and from several slight 
 movements Cesare Borgia perceived that his victim 
 would soon open her eyes. He was sure that he would 
 not receive any interruption at that hour and in that 
 place ; the feast was then at its height, and a cry could 
 not be heard from under those vaults. Therefore, feeling 
 perfect security, he resolved in his heart, as he had plenty
 
 268 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 of time, to torture the victim of his revenge at his 
 leisure. 
 
 At last a deep drawn sigh made the bosom of the 
 young woman swell. She opened her eyes for an instant 
 and shut them immediately. Again she opened them, 
 and again ; then she began to stare in the face of him 
 who stood before her motionless and unknown ; but she 
 looked at him vaguely, without any idea being impressed . 
 on her mind by the sight; still her eye seemed to loath 
 the appearance of that disfigured countenance ; she 
 turned it away, slowly, and with a look of so much 
 terror that it might have moved an}' other heart Re- 
 covering her consciousness by degrees, the remembrance 
 of Ettore at the feet of the Lady Elvira was the first 
 clear idea which presented itself to her mind. 
 
 " Oh, Ettore ! " she said, scarcely articulating the 
 words ; " then it was true, and thou hast betrayed me ! " 
 and covering her eyes and her brow with both hands, 
 she remained a few moments in that attitude. Valentino's 
 lips slightly curled with anger, as he heard that name. 
 
 At length Ginevra remembered that she must be in 
 the boat, and leaning on her elbow, made an effort to 
 rise, when she felt the softness of the bed ; she gazed 
 around in great terror, perceived the Duke, and uttered 
 a cry ; but it was stifled at once by the hand of that 
 brute, who caught her by the throat, and threw her back 
 on the bed. 
 
 " Ginevra, do not cry," said Valentino ; " throw not 
 thy breath away ; I am glad thou hast come to pay me a 
 visit, and I shall repay thee for a journey taken at this 
 hour of night. . . . But it is not me thou seekest. Is it 
 not so ? What use to fret ? Not every ball that is cast 
 comes out perfectly round."
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSOA. 269 
 
 Ginevra heard these words with a tremor which quite 
 overpowered ner. As she had not seen the Duke for a 
 long time, she could not recognize him at once, and only 
 felt a sensation of horror, as she remembered some fea- 
 tures of that physiognomy. But knowing that it was 
 not in her power to offer any resistance, she only implored 
 thus : " Signore / . . . who are you ? . . . take pity on 
 me ! ... what do you want ? . . . let me go ! . . ." 
 
 And the Duke : 
 
 " Dost thou remember, Ginevra, in Rome many years 
 ago, how thou didst act towards a man who loved thee like 
 the apple of his eye, and who would have lavished upon 
 thee gifts and caresses such as a woman never could 
 boast of before ? Dost thou remember that thy manners 
 towards him, then, would have put disgrace upon a stable 
 boy ? Dost thou remember that his love was laughed 
 at by thee, his offers treated with contempt, and that thou 
 didst actually put on airs which would have been too 
 lofty even for a queen ? Well, dost thou remember who 
 that man was ? it was myself. And dost thou know 
 who I am ? Cesare Borgia." 
 
 The abhorred name fell like a weight upon Ginevra's 
 heart, crushing every hope out of it ; she breathed not, 
 but shaking like an aspen leaf, she looked at the Duke 
 as she would at a tiger that held her in his clutches, and 
 whom she could not even think of moving to compassion 
 with words. 
 
 " Now that thou knowest who I am," continued the 
 Duke, "just think whether thou hast any claim to my 
 compassion ; still I might be prevailed not to wreak on 
 thee that vengeance which I ought and might very easily 
 take. But, on one condition, Ginevra ; that is, that thou 
 behavest wisely ; and I assure thee, thou needst to do so."
 
 270 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 The comparative mildness of these words kindled a 
 spark of hope in the heart of the woman, and with 
 joined hands, not venturing, however, to look at him, that 
 he might not perceive her horror and disgust, she began 
 to pray to him as she would have done before the shrine 
 of a saint, that he would not crush a poor woman already 
 too miserable and unhappy. 
 
 " I beseech you, noble Lord, by the Wounds of Jesus, 
 by that Day when even you, now so powerful on earth, 
 will stand a naked soul in the presence of an eternal 
 Judge. ... If you ever had a woman whom you loved 
 most dearly, and saw her in another man's power, and 
 should in vain entreat for mercy, ... if your own 
 mother, if your own sister were in my situation, and 
 prayed, and prayed in vain, you would cry for vengeance 
 before God would you not against any one who 
 should martyr them so ? ..." 
 
 These words, coupling the names of Vannozza and of 
 Lucrezia Borgia with ideas of virtue and honesty, were 
 the occasion of a smile in Valentino, who knew them a 
 little. But it was an ominous smile, which redoubled the 
 fears of Ginevra ; still she continued her entreaties, the 
 crying changing her voice until she could scarcely utter 
 the words distinctly, interrupted as she was by sobs, 
 and these were the last words : " I am an insignificant, 
 miserable woman ; what good may it do you, what glory 
 will it bring to you, the powerful lord you are, to have 
 taken revenge on me ? . . . Who knows but the day will 
 come when the recollection of having shown mercy to me 
 will afford a balm to your heart ? " It is not in our 
 power to describe the anxiety, anguish, and despair of 
 the most unhappy Ginevra, her tears, her entreaties, at 
 la-f lior raving and her curses on the fiend who tor-
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 271 
 
 mented her. The picture would lacerate the reader's 
 heart. 
 
 In the meantime Don Miguel had returned with his 
 companion. He was in very bad humor, with his hands 
 empty, and fearing the revenge of his master. Reaching 
 the foot of the castle he saw the two boats, one belonging 
 to the messenger, and the other to Ginevra, and he be- 
 came suspicious ; he approached the door, and hearing the 
 tumult within became alarmed ; he pushed the door, but 
 it was bolted ; however, he felt reassured when from the 
 tone of voice with which the Duke answered " Wait," 
 he concluded that there was no danger. 
 
 The noise in the galleries above, and the shouts of the 
 people, reechoed as loudly as before. Don Miguel listened 
 more closely at the crevices of the door, and after a 
 pause of a few minutes, heard the Duke exclaiming: 
 " Well ! I leave thee to thy God and to thy saints ; . . . " 
 and instantly the bolt was removed, the door was opened, 
 and the Duke came out. 
 
 The servant wished to make some excuses, but was 
 interrupted. " Thou wilt tell me all at another time ; of 
 all this I know more than thou canst tell me." These 
 words might have led Don Miguel to believe that his 
 master was angry, but from the manners and looks of the 
 Duke, he concluded that there was some mystery which 
 he did not understand. 
 
 Valentino addressed the men who had come with Don 
 Miguel, saying : " quick, all hands aboard, and wait for 
 me under Sant' Orsola," and then to Don Miguel : " come 
 thou with me." 
 
 The crew were promptly pulling at the oars, and soon 
 out of sight. Don Miguel and the Duke reentered the 
 rooms, and immediately came out again carrying Ginevra,
 
 272 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 whom they replaced in the boat in which she had been 
 found. 
 
 The messenger was then called out of the room in 
 which he had been confined by the Duke ; and the three 
 together entering the boat without uttering a word, over- 
 took the larger one, and all embarked in it. 
 
 The Duke sat on the poop, and Don Miguel was 
 standing before him ; and although he now knew why 
 his master did not seem much disappointed at the failure 
 of the plot, still he undertook to tell him the reason why 
 they had returned with empty hands, and very minutely 
 narrated how they had proceeded, and how, being at- 
 tacked by a superior force they had scarcely been able 
 to defend themselves, and the woman had been res- 
 cued. 
 
 " But one of them did not get off very easy," he 
 added, pointing behind him to Pietraccio, who, as we 
 have seen, had received a blow on the head from an oar, 
 and having fallen senseless in the boat, had been carried 
 away a prisoner. At that time he had recovered, and 
 was sitting a few steps from the Duke ; the men, appre- 
 hending no danger of his being able to escape, did not 
 molest him. 
 
 " This ruffian," continued Don Miguel, " fell upon us 
 like a fury, but the Rosso here bestowed upon his ears a 
 whack that prostrated him. I thought he was dead, but 
 I see he is coming to himself." 
 
 From sundry expressions of Don Miguel, Pietraccio 
 became convinced that he was in the presence of him, 
 whom he had in vain sought among the crowd that 
 afternoon. Valentino perceived that the fellow looked 
 at him with a dark eye, and with a mien that betrayed 
 treacherous intentions, and was about to order him to be
 
 ETTOP.E FIERAMOSCA. 273 
 
 thrown to the fish. But Don Miguel who, as the read- 
 er will remember, had heard in the prison of Sant' Or- 
 sola the dying words of the assassin's mother, and the 
 last injunction that he should seek vengeance on Cesare 
 Borgia, was also satisfied, looking at him by stealth, that 
 he was meditating some desperate blow on his master. 
 The villain had attached himself to the Duke's service 
 for the sake of his pecuniary interest ; nevertheless, he 
 would have rejoiced, if without danger of being impli- 
 cated, and without the least suspicion on himself, he 
 should have a chance of making him pay for an old 
 offence. The reader will easily understand what feelings 
 Don Miguel must have harbored towards the Duke, when 
 he is acquainted with the fact that the woman whose 
 death he had witnessed in the dungeon under the tower, 
 was his own wife. 
 
 When, after the encounter with Ettore Fieramosca, 
 Don Miguel had found Pietraccio in his power, he con- 
 ceived some general ideas, and almost arranged a plot in 
 his mind, to use him as an instrument of vengeance for his 
 mother ; but in that hurry of events that succeeded each 
 other so rapidly he could not bring his thoughts into any 
 definite order ; thus having no set plan as yet formed, he 
 only watched for any opportunity that might offer itself, 
 and now he thought that things were taking a turn favor- 
 able to his wishes. In fact, after he had made the last 
 remark to the Duke, there was a moment of silence, 
 which afforded the young man time enough to attempt a 
 desperate blow. He rose from his place, and darting 
 by Don Miguel, who only feigned to hold him back, he 
 rushed upon Valentino like an enraged beast, wishing to 
 tear him to pieces with nails and teeth ; but the Duke 
 suspected the man's purpose, and was prepared to re- 
 
 12*
 
 274 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 ceive him ; and Don Miguel had scarcely caught him by 
 the shoulder?, when Pietraccio fell at his feet, pierced 
 through and through by the stiletto the Duke carried at 
 his side, and which he had used with incredible dex- 
 terity. 
 
 The attack on the part of Pietraccio, and the blows 
 from the Duke, were the work of an instant ; and when 
 the crew turned around to see whence the noise came, it 
 was all over ; but then halting for an instant they per- 
 ceived Valentino replacing the stiletto in its sheath, and 
 pushing the still breathing body of the murdered youth 
 with his foot, and commanding that it should be thrown 
 overboard. 
 
 "The wretched fool!" exclaimed Don Miguel, pre- 
 tending to be much alarmed at the danger his master had 
 been in. " Still no person can persuade me that this fel- 
 low was not a different man from what he appeared. . . . 
 I found him a few days ago in the dungeon of the tower 
 of yon Monastery, thrown in there with his mother ; 
 both had been captured by the bailiffs with a band of 
 assassins ; the mother died from the wounds she had re- 
 ceived in the scuffle, and before breathing her last she 
 gave to her son a chain of gold, telling him of a certain 
 story connected with it. ... O ! yes, I remember it ... 
 telling him that she had received it from an inamorato in 
 Pisa. . . . Yes . . . hold on, Rosso, before we throw 
 him over, I want to see whether he has it still. The gold, 
 at least, might be spared from the fish." 
 
 Thus saying, he unbuttoned the boy's jacket, found the 
 chain, and having taken it into his hand he displayed it 
 before the eyes of the Duke, who had paid great atten- 
 tion to the circumstances narrated by Don Miguel. 
 
 Valentino could not master his feelings so far as to
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 275 
 
 conceal the sudden emotion produced in him by that sight. 
 He remained for a moment absorbed in some serious 
 thought ; and his hands, which were clasped together, 
 holding the precious jewel hanging from his neck, fell 
 on his sides as if bereft of all power. . He resumed his 
 seat, repeating with a husky voice the command that the 
 body should be thrown into the water. He turned his 
 eyes another way, until the splash of the waters told 
 him that his command had been fulfilled ; a spray from 
 that watery grave swept over the boat, and over the 
 men in it. Clenching the chain in his hands, he threw it 
 a great distance into the bay, and drawing the cloak 
 around his person, he leaned his head on one hand, and 
 became silent. 
 
 Don Miguel feigning respect for the thoughts of the 
 Duke, withdrew and seated himself among the crew, 
 who went on rowing in deep silence ; no other noise was 
 heard for the rest of the passage but the dipping of the 
 oar-blades, and the dripping of the water. The minion 
 of Cesare Borgia had enjoyed a revenge which no other 
 man, perhaps, in the world ever had over the Duke ; it 
 awoke in his heart recollections of his past life, which 
 gave rise to some feelings of remorse ; but it was the 
 remorse which, having no balm with it, is like the despair 
 of hell. It was the pride of Don Miguel's heart that he 
 had been enabled to taste the pleasure of this great re- 
 venge. 
 
 After this accident, they pursued their journey until 
 they reached the shallop, kept in waiting for the Duke, 
 and immediately set sail for the shores of Romagna. 
 
 But we must willingly take leave of this gang of ri- 
 balds.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE departure of Ettore Fieramosca and of his 
 friends from the ball, had been noticed only by few per- 
 sons, and did not therefore interfere with the gaieties of 
 the occasion. Fanfulla left the piazza, where he had the 
 interview with the Lady Elvira, and with great dispatch 
 and dexterity restored Ettore's cloak and cap to their 
 place, when he returned to mingle in the dance just as if 
 nothing had happened, chuckling at the trick he had 
 played on his friend, and dying of the wish to tell it. 
 The daughter of Gonzalo kept a searching eye all around 
 to discover Ettore, wondering at his sudden disappear- 
 ance, and endeavoring to satisfy herself as to the cause of 
 it. 
 
 Things had continued thus for about an hour, when 
 Brancaleone and Inigo entered, and inquired from the 
 first persons they met where Gonzalo was. They were 
 directed to a part of the hall where the Captain was in 
 conversation with some of the French barons. On ap- 
 proaching, they drew him one side, and gave him an 
 account of what had happened ; they well knew that 
 Valentino was in the castle, and that he was the cause of 
 all the mischief. Gonzalo's advice was requested how 
 they should act. The Captain believed the Duke to be 
 capable of that, and even of greater infamies ; still he 
 seemed perplexed for an instant ; then he beckoned them
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 277 
 
 to follow him, as he moved towards his apartment, and 
 peeing Don Garcia in the company, he bade him also fol- 
 low. 
 
 He did not wish to acknowledge that the Duke was in 
 the castle, lest he might seem to violate his pledged word. 
 But then reflecting that he had taken his leave that same 
 day, and had made arrangements to depart in the night, 
 he thought it very strange that he should have chosen 
 that very last moment to commit such a crime. At all 
 events, he determined to clear matters himself ; and hav- 
 ing called for lights, he girded on his sword, and led 
 the way through a narrow corridor to some private wind- 
 ing stairs, and unfastening two iron doors they descended. 
 There still remained another door ; Gonzalo halted, and 
 whispered to his companions to wait for him without 
 making the least noise, and not to move until called. 
 Then opening the door, he entered the rooms of the 
 Duke, and found them deserted, without any light, and 
 in the utmost confusion ; chairs lying about, a table upset, 
 by the bed a lamp extinguished, and the oil running on 
 the floor ; the adjoining rooms all empty. Having then 
 called his attendants, and thus remained for a few mo- 
 ments undecided and deliberating with himself, he said at 
 last : 
 
 " Were I to keep faith with this ribald, I might en- 
 danger the safety of the innocent. Know ye then, the 
 Duke has lived in these rooms for several days past. 
 He had made up his mind to leave this evening or to- 
 morrow ; further I cannot say, because I know nothing 
 more. We are well satisfied that he is capable of any 
 debauchery ; perhaps he is the author of even this. Act 
 then as you think best ; pursue him if you choose ; you 
 have my full consent ; and you, Don Garcia, give them 
 whatever aid may be needed."
 
 278 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 Inigo thought at once that the Duke's vessel might 
 perhaps be yet seen from the window ; but as he could 
 not see distinctly through the thick glass, and as it would 
 have taken too long to unbolt those huge frames, he ran 
 to the small door which opened over the narrow strip 
 of beach, a spot he was well acquainted with, and going 
 out he saw the small boat, and in it lying a young 
 woman whom he did not know, but who at once he 
 thought might be Ginevra. 
 
 His companions, being called to the spot in great haste, 
 were at a loss what to think, on seeing her so abandoned 
 and in that miserable plight. With the most gentle care 
 they carried her to a bed in the Duke's rooms, which was 
 arranged by them in the best way they knew. Gonzalo 
 felt to his heart the wretched situation of the female, and 
 hastened up stairs to place her in care of some woman. 
 But, being yet in utter ignorance of the circumstances 
 of the event, and feeling anxious that it should not then 
 become known, he thought of Vittoria Colonna, on whose 
 well-tried prudence he could rely. He entered the 
 dancing halls, and meeting the daughter of Fabricio, he 
 led her quietly to Ginevra's bed, informing her on the 
 way of what had transpired, and how needful would her 
 comforts be to the unfortunate woman who was unknown 
 to all. The generous and affectionate heart of Vittoria 
 accepted the trust with zeal and gratitude. She ap- 
 proached the bed of the female, and gazed in her face 
 for an instant, then arranged the bed more comfortably, 
 placed the pillow so as to afford more relief to her aching 
 head and throbbing temples, and fulfilled in a perfect 
 manner the gentle duties of nurse, combining as they do 
 that mingled sagacity and tenderness which is the choice 
 talent bestowed by Providence on woman, when she was 
 appointed to minister to the afflicted.
 
 ETTOKE FTERAMOSCA. 270 
 
 Ginevra was then in a state of lethargy, into which 
 she had been thrown by so much suffering and mental 
 anguish ; she could not be called senseless, nor had she 
 the use of her mind ; she offered not the least resistance, 
 and allowed those around her to move her arms, or her 
 head from one position to another ; her eyes were open 
 in their natural way, but they were dull, unmeaning, and 
 vaguely rolling from place to place. Vittoria well knew 
 that this state, the less violent it appeared, was the more 
 to be dreaded ; she knew that there was no time to 
 lose, and having therefore requested the men to with- 
 draw, she ordered some of her women to bring cordials 
 and spirits, and with them they succeeded in bringing 
 back a life which seemed to be fast ebbing away. 
 
 The first sign of returning consciousness was to look 
 around with an expression of extreme terror, and then 
 start up and throw herself out of her bed, in a vain 
 attempt to run away ; but she was so weak that she 
 would have fallen on the floor, had not Vittoria opened 
 her arms, and with gentle violence made her lie down 
 again. 
 
 " Oh God ! " then said Ginevra, " are you also in 
 league with him ? and still you appear to be a gentle- 
 woman. You are young and handsome, and will you not 
 have compassion on me ? " 
 
 " Not only that," answered Vittoria, taking Ginevra's 
 hands and raising them to her lips, " but we are here, 
 and every one of the castle are at your service, to help 
 you and to protect you ; but calm yourself for heaven's 
 sake ; you have nothing to fear now." 
 
 " Well, then, if it is so," replied Ginevra, again throw- 
 ing her feet out of the bed, " let me go ; let me go." 
 
 Vittoria imagined that this great desire of being taken
 
 280 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 away from that place might proceed from aberration of 
 mind, and perceiving her great weakness and the change 
 in her features, endeavored with kind words to persuade 
 her to have a little patience ; but the horror she had for 
 the place had become a madness, growing in its fury the 
 more it was resisted. She continued to act frantically, 
 and cried while saying: 
 
 " Lady ! for the love of God, and for the love of Our 
 Blessed Mother, only one favor I ask : take me away 
 from this bed ; throw me into the sea ; into the fire ; 
 but take me away from this bed. I shall not. give you 
 much trouble. ... A draught of water. ... I am burn- 
 ing ; . . . and let me say a few words to Fra Mariano 
 of San Dominico here by. . . . But let me go from here. 
 . . . Let me go. . . ." 
 
 And saying thus, she again started up, meeting no more 
 objections from Vittoria, who saw it was useless to offer 
 resistance. With the help of the attending women, she 
 carried Ginevra up stairs, and lodged her in an out-of- 
 the-way room, where Gonzalo had ordered a couch to be 
 prepared for the purpose. Then as she was undressed, 
 and had entered the bed, she gave a deep sigh, and said : 
 
 " Signora ! God sees everything ; and he sees how fer- 
 vently my heart prays that you may be rewarded for the 
 good you are doing to me. O my mother ! Holy Virgin, 
 accept my thanks ! And you, my lady, you alone will 
 have the merit of my not dying in despair. . . . Only I 
 beseech you, hurry a message to Fra Mariano. . . . 
 Tell me what time it is ? day or night ? I know no more 
 in what world I am." 
 
 " It is five of the clock in the night," answered Vit- 
 toria, " and Fra Mariano shall be sent for ; but the fright 
 you have had makes you fear more than there need be ;
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 281 
 
 calm yourself, take some rest, my dear young woman ; 
 here you are in a safe place ; I will not leave you. . . ." 
 
 " Oh, no ! do not leave me ! If you only knew what 
 comfort those compassionating eyes of yours give to my 
 heart when you look at me ! Sit down here on my 
 couch ; there, I have made room for you ; . . . no, no, 
 don't fear to put me to any inconvenience ; indeed, I feel 
 more comfortable in this position. . . ." Thus remaining 
 for a while in a kind of stupor, she shuddered again, and 
 apparently wandering, she would say : " If you knew what 
 horrors ! To be buried alive ; ... to be smothered under 
 a heap of dead bodies ! to see before you those cadaver- 
 ous faces, sunk by death and doomed to corruption, star- 
 ing at you, and gr . . . grin ! . . . God ! I feel as if I was 
 there now ! . . ." 
 
 And uttering these words, she clung to her protectress, 
 who very justly thinking that it would be useless to 
 attempt to reason while those wanderings of mind con- 
 tinued, pressed her close to her arms, and endeavored to 
 sooth and quiet her. 
 
 " O Mia Signora ! " Ginevra continued, hiding her 
 head in her friend's bosom, " I do not know what I am 
 saying. I only know I am talking nonsense ; but I 
 have been too vilely treated, too much so ! ... and I 
 did not deserve it ! What had I done to him, that he 
 should insult me so? ... And in yon chapel I felt sure 
 that I would succeed, and reach the place in safety ! 
 ... I prayed so fervently ! . . . Ah ! but I have been 
 a wretched sinner ! . . . more unfortunate than sinful ; 
 oh ! yes, yes, much more unfortunate ! Because my 
 heart. ... I know it, and I know how I felt. . . ." 
 
 " Yes, dear friend ; yes, I believe it," answered Vitto- 
 ria ; " but calm yourself, and do not say that God has
 
 282 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 abandoned you ; see, He has sent me to dry your tears, 
 and sooth your sufferings. See, I am here with you ; I 
 will not leave you ; and if it be any satisfaction to you, 
 fear not, I shall not abandon you. But if, in your mis- 
 fortune, you need help of different nature ; if punishment 
 has to be bestowed on any one who has insulted you ; if 
 there exists some evil that requires remedy, let me know 
 . . . trust me . . . Fabricio Colonna, my father . . . 
 Gonzalo ; ... in a word, all offer themselves to you. . . ." 
 
 " Ah, Mia Signora ! " Ginevra replied, " the whole 
 world, were it to combine together, could not afford me 
 the means of enjoying one moment of happiness ; nor 
 could they take one drop from the cup of my sorrow ! 
 It is all over with me here below. . . . But I thank you ! 
 oh, I thank you ; because you have afforded me the last 
 relief; . . . and, therefore, do not call me ungrateful, 
 because I do not tell you my sad adventures ; it is im- 
 possible ; they cannot be told ; and if I do not accept 
 your offers, . . . may God reward you. . . . He can do 
 it ! ... I can only thank you, . . . and kiss those 
 blessed hands which will support my head in my last 
 hour, and will close my eyes. . . . Pledge yourself that 
 you will not leave me until I shall be entirely cold." 
 
 Vittoria wished to drive away these ideas by trying 
 to persuade her that there was no danger of death, but 
 Ginevra would not allow her to speak. 
 
 " No, no, my lady ; it is out of the question ; I know 
 to what state I have been brought ; I know how I feel ; 
 ... do not refuse me this request, angel of benedic- 
 tions ! Is it not so ? You will not deny it ? There, 
 you see, I take advantage of your good will ; you cannot 
 say that I am either proud or ungrateful. . . . Will you 
 then promise it to me ? "
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 283 
 
 " Yes ; yes, dear ; I promise it to you, should there be 
 need of it." 
 
 " Oh ! now I feel more at ease. Now give orders to 
 call Fra Mariano, and then it will be over with me in this 
 world. . . . But give me once more a little water ; I feel 
 as if I had burning coals in my heart. . . . Could you 
 remove that light ? it dazzles my eyes. Please to pardon 
 so much trouble ; it will not last long." 
 
 Vittoria having performed these little acts of kindness, 
 sat again on the narrow bed, and in a few moments, 
 Inigo, who had gone for Fra Mariano, and had roused 
 him, appeared at the door, asking whether he could 
 introduce him ; and Ginevra said : " Let him come, let 
 him come." 
 
 A monk, of tall person, noble bearing, his pale and 
 modest countenance slightly shaded by the hood, then 
 entered the room, and approached the couch, saying: 
 " Jesus Christ be with you, lady." All left, and he re- 
 mained alone with the sick. 
 
 It was at the very first sight evident that all human 
 feelings and worldly pursuits had been long trampled 
 under foot by that religious man, whose noble presence 
 and dignified manners were the index of a noble charity, 
 which is the effect of an appreciation of the august and 
 divine mission of administering comfort and relief to 
 fellow-creatures in distress. 
 
 His early life was shrouded in mystery to the people of 
 Barletta, and even of the inmates of the convent of San 
 Dominico ; and although he occupied no place of distinc- 
 tion in the order, he was surrounded by a halo of rever- 
 ence, which was the result of his exemplary life, his great 
 learning, and of a belief that he was the victim of perse- 
 cution. There was a report, that when a layman he was
 
 284 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 one of the first citizens of Florence, of the party of the 
 Piagnoni, which was under the lead of Fra Girolamo 
 Savonarola ; and that when conquered by the appeals of 
 that terrible preacher, he had given up the world, and re- 
 ceived at his hands the Dominican habit in San Marco. 
 Other more obscure reports were mixed up with these 
 facts, which every one believed as true, that, to give him- 
 self up to God, he had broken ties of the heart, that the 
 sudden change had been the occasion of great scandal, of 
 great anger, and of vengeance, on the part of the neg- 
 lected woman, that through her influence he had been 
 involved in the persecution raised against Savonarola ; 
 after the death of the latter, he had with great difficulty 
 saved himself, his superior sending him off in disguise 
 and under an assumed name, to the Convent of Barletta, 
 where, on account of its seclusion and out-of-the-way 
 situation, he lived unknown and undisturbed. 
 
 These were the reports about him. But the keenest 
 malevolence could not point to the smallest blemish in his 
 life. The severe doctrines of Savonarola had found in 
 his heart a soil well prepared to receive the seed, and 
 helped by his nature, which would sacrifice every thing 
 before the altar of truth, had borne the fruits of charity 
 and fervid zeal. 
 
 The whole party of the Piagnoni had become extin- 
 guished with the last flicker of the expiring flames of the 
 fire on which Savonarola had been consumed. Clem- 
 ent VII. had frightened into silence those who were loud 
 in their censures on the abuses of the Medicean court. 
 Fra Mariano, not having been chosen to die for the sake 
 of truth, lived happy in his retreat ; he rejoiced in being 
 spared the grief of being an idle witness of evils against 
 which he could not raise his voice.
 
 ETTORE F1EKAMOSCA. 285 
 
 He took a seat by the head of Ginevra's bed, and hav- 
 ing blessed her, he asked whether she wished to make 
 her confession. 
 
 " Yes, Father, yes ! I have no other desire in this life ; 
 and had I not felt that my strength and my life are rap- 
 idly failing, I would not have put you to so much trouble 
 at this hour of night ; my trials will not be very long ; let 
 us therefore lose no time, and help me to die in the grace 
 of my God, and of our holy Roman Church." 
 
 " Life and death," said Fra Mariano, " are in the hands 
 of God, and it will happen even as He wishes ; do 
 whatever lies in your power, and be assured He will not 
 refuse his aid to you." 
 
 Having made the sign of the Cross, and recited the 
 prayers prescribed for the occasion, he said to the woman, 
 " Now begin." 
 
 To unbosom her heart without reserve, she was obliged 
 to give an account of her life from the very beginning; 
 her ill-assorted marriage, the supposed death of her hus- 
 band, and her wanderings from place to place. Her nar- 
 rative was often interrupted by failing of strength, and 
 at times it was somewhat incoherent, her mind not be- 
 ing equal to the painful task. 
 
 " Father ! I have been for many years, it is true, near 
 him who was not my husband, but my only fault has been 
 to expose myself to the danger of doing evil ; only God 
 in his goodness has preserved me from it. I have been 
 remiss in my endeavors to find my husband, and to ascer- 
 tain whether he was really dead . . . but at last I was told 
 of his being alive, and of the place where he was, and I 
 immediately resolved to join him . . . and started for this 
 purpose . . . and I had great trust in God that I should 
 succeed . . . but O God, whom did I meet ? . . . "
 
 286 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 And here she narrated how, in approaching the citadel, 
 she had seen the close interview between him whom she 
 supposed to be Ettore and Elvira, the sight of which 
 overwhelmed her, so that she had fallen senseless to the 
 bottom of the boat, and recovered only to find herself 
 in Valentino's room ; and going through all the particu- 
 lars of the cruel insults and outrages suffered at the 
 hands of the Duke, she burst into tears, with fits of 
 convulsions and despair, giving utterance to discon- 
 nected expressions, which manifested too plainly an in- 
 cipient aberration of mind. 
 
 The good Friar was touched to the heart, and with 
 that prudence which the importance of the case required, 
 employed all the means he could command to calm her, 
 and only partially succeeded after a long time, when na- 
 ture, being overpowered, gave way to a paroxysm, which 
 left the miserable woman a great deal more exhausted. 
 
 " Father ! " continued Ginevra in a fainter voice, " is 
 it then possible that God and our Blessed Lady have 
 cursed my sorrow, and rejected my tears ? God's ven- 
 geance has burst on my head like a thunderclap, just 
 when I felt I could hope for mercy . . . the punishment 
 of my sins has already been terrible . . . but I still fear 
 a worse one ... I feel that I shall die unpardoned . . . 
 I feel that God has hardened my heart at these last mo- 
 ments ... I am soon to depart, but I can neither forget 
 that man . . . nor pardon that woman . . . Oh, pray 
 for me ! help me ! as long as there is a chance, speak to 
 me words of hope ..." 
 
 " Of hope ? " answered the Friar. " Do you not know 
 that the God who sends me to you is the same God who 
 purchased your salvation with his death on the cross, and 
 pledges his mercy to you, and pledges it even if you were
 
 ETTOKE FIERAMOSCA. 287 
 
 laden with the sins of the whole world, unless, however, 
 by despairing of pardon, you should offer insult to his 
 love ? And what does he ask of you to deserve that par- 
 don, and to deserve that crown of glory and that joy 
 which shall never end ? He only requests you to love 
 him as he has loved you ; only to suffer a little for his 
 sake, as he has suffered, and so much more for yours ; 
 to forgive those who have injured you, just as he has for- 
 given those who have lavished upon him insults, outrages, 
 torments, and death: Behold! He is there in heaven 
 waiting for you, and He is anxious to receive you into 
 his open arms, to dry your tears, and turn your grief into 
 a joy that will never fail. The enemy, who counted upon 
 you as a sure prey, cannot bear that you should escape 
 from his hands ; he is trying every way to reconquer 
 you ; he endeavors to take away from you all hopes ; but 
 he shall not succeed. I, the minister of God Eternal " 
 here he rose to his full height, spreading his hands over 
 Ginevra with solemn authority "I swear to you by His 
 holy name, that both your pardon and your eternal salva- 
 tion are already signed in the eternal records, if only with 
 an act of love you know how to purchase an eternal re- 
 ward. May the divine blood of the Son of God descend 
 upon your soul like the dew from heaven ; may it wash 
 every stain from it ; may it pour peace and joy into it, 
 and may it obtain for you a keen sorrow for having of- 
 fended Him who shed it for your sake ; may it give you 
 strength and energy to repel and contemn the attacks of 
 the enemy who thirsts after your ruin." 
 
 " Oh ! my Father ! " replied Ginevra, who was over- 
 whelmed with veneration for the words she had just 
 heard, " God speaks through your lips ; then I can still 
 hope, and I am not forsaken forever ! "
 
 288 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 " No, you are not, blessed soul ! on the contrary, the 
 more severe the struggle is now, the nobler will your tri- 
 umph be. But now that God grants you grace and op- 
 portunity to know your faults and appreciate his mercies, 
 think not of turning back, but remember what he says : 
 better for them not to have known the ways of righteous- 
 ness, than to shrink after having known them. No man 
 putting his hand to the plough and looking back is fit for 
 the kingdom of God. You cannot banish the recollection 
 of that man from your heart ? Now see where you had 
 placed your hopes ! from whom you expected comfort 
 and joy ! See for whose sake you have contemned the 
 love of your God ! For the sake of a man who could 
 not even keep a word, however culpable and profane, 
 which he had pledged to you ; for the sake of one who, 
 at the first breath of wind, turned from you, without even 
 caring for you. Thus does the world keep its faith ; and 
 still to follow this world, you contemn the infallible prom- 
 ises of the Eternal ! And when he makes you aware of 
 the vanity and folly of your desires, you almost grow 
 angry, instead of bowing to the very earth before such a 
 miracle of goodness ! You cannot pardon that woman ? 
 and in what has she offended you ? In the first place, 
 she does not even know you ; then she is a free maiden, 
 and she can entertain such thoughts without criminality. 
 Oh ! you should rather love her, and respect the instru- 
 ment employed by the hand of the Lord to work out 
 your salvation ! I am a sinner too, and have been such, 
 and have been so unfortunate and foolish as to seek peace 
 of heart in human affection. But God has called me ; I 
 obeyed the summons at first with bitterness ; but then, 
 oh ! what a great reward has God allowed to me for the 
 small sacrifice ! What a calm joy to love and be sure
 
 ETTOHK FIKRAMOSCA. 289 
 
 that you are requited by an infinite, immense correspond- 
 ence of feeling ! Oh ! believe me, soul of benedictions ! 
 me who am a man. and a greater offender than I believe 
 you have ever been, I have gone through all those trials ; 
 all is gall, uncertainty, and darkness, except in loving 
 and serving God, and hoping in his mercies." 
 
 Here Ginevra interrupted him, and burst into tears : 
 " Oh ! yes, you have opened my mind, and you have 
 overcome me ; yes, I pardon, and with my whole heart 
 I do pardon ; and I will give proofs of my sincerity. 
 Let her come ; I wish to see and embrace her before I 
 die ; and may they live happy, even as I hope that God 
 will have mercy on me in the life to come." 
 
 The good friar fell on his knees by the couch, and 
 raising his eyes and hands to heaven, he said : " Variis 
 et miris modis vocal nos Deus ! * let us adore the work 
 of His mercy." 
 
 Having thus remained a few moments in prayer, he 
 arose, blessed, and shrove the woman, and then added : 
 
 " Then you are really determined to see her, and do 
 this work of grace ? " 
 
 " Yes, father, send for her ; I feel the necessity of 
 breathing my last in the act of pardoning." 
 
 " And God, I say it in his name, has also pardoned 
 you ; you belong to him ; this holy resolution of yours is 
 the mark of your salvation." 
 
 The friar was starting to send for the Lady Elvira when 
 Ginevra recalled him. 
 
 " I have one request to make of you, and you must 
 not refuse it, if you wish me to die in peace. When I am 
 dead, go to the French camp, find out my husband, (his 
 name among the men-at-arms is Graiano d'Asti, and he is 
 
 * In various and wonderful ways God calls us. 
 13
 
 290 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 in the service of the Duke of Nemours,) and tell him that 
 in my last hour I have sought God's pardon, and I beg of 
 him also to pardon me if I have offended him. Tell him 
 that on my death I make oath that my soul is as pure on 
 my going out of this world as it was when he received 
 me from my father. Entreat him not to curse my mem- 
 ory, and to have a mass offered for the repose of my soul." 
 
 " God bless you ! . . . . Be tranquil ; your wish shall be 
 fulfilled." 
 
 " Another favor I would request of you," resumed Gin- 
 evra ; " I do not know whether it would be right or wrong ; 
 but God, who sees the interior of my soul, knows that I 
 
 do it from good motives I wish you would inquire 
 
 also after him .... I mean Ettore Fieramosca, who is a 
 lancer in the bands of Signer Prospero .... tell him 
 that I will pray for him that I pardon him .... that 
 is .... no, say nothing about pardon .... after all, I am 
 not perfectly sure .... it might have been some one else 
 who looked like him .... no, no .... tell him only to 
 take care of his soul .... that now I know how we were 
 both acting wrong .... that he must think of a future 
 life .... that this vanishes away like a mist, and it is 
 myself who tells him so, as I feel the reality of it, and I 
 feel .... I mean .... I mean to say I wish him true 
 happiness. And tell him also that if God, as I hope, 
 will receive me in his goodness, I shall pray for him that 
 he may gain the day, and the honor of the Italian arms 
 be safe in his hands." 
 
 Fra Mariano gave a sigh and said : " This also I shall 
 do." 
 
 The dying woman remained silent for an instant, and 
 thought of Zorais, her protegee, with whom she had been 
 at variance for the last few days. She entreated the
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 291 
 
 friar to see her in the Monastery of Sant' Orsola, and to 
 carry to her a bracelet with her parting farewell, request- 
 ing her to wear it for her sake. Slie recommended the 
 poor forlorn girl to him, that he might find her an honor- 
 able shelter, and above all that he would endeavor to 
 make a Christian of her. Then she continued : 
 
 " A last charity I beg of you ; and I am sure you will 
 grant it. Have me interred in the subterranean chapel 
 of Sant' Orsola, dressed in the habit of the Monastery. 
 It is a great consolation to me to think that I shall rest 
 near the shrine of Our Lady, who has at last granted my 
 prayer, and put an end to my misery." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," replied Fra Mariano, scarcely able to 
 control his tears, " I shall fulfil your wishes in every 
 thing." 
 
 Having said this, he went out and called Vittoria Co- 
 lonna, to whom he addressed himself, lest Ginevra, whose 
 strength was fast failing, should be fatigued by too much 
 speaking, and said : 
 
 " Lady ! please to see the Lady Elvira, and bring her 
 here ; this suffering young woman wishes to speak to her." 
 
 Vittoria was taken entirely by surprise, and hesitated 
 for a moment, still she moved away without making any 
 reply, when Ginevra said : " I hope she will pardon me 
 for this trouble, but there is no time to lose." 
 
 It was then after five o'clock, and the dance had been 
 brought to an end a few moments before ; the halls were 
 becoming deserted ; the guests were descending the stairs 
 escorted by the barons of the Spanish army. 
 
 Gonzalo had just parted with the Duke of Nemours 
 and his knights, who had taken to their horses, and were 
 on their way towards the French camp, preceded by 
 many blazing torches.
 
 292 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 The yard was swarming with people on foot and on 
 horseback ; it was a tumult that reechoed all over the 
 castle. The women sat on the horses behind the gen- 
 tlemen of their party, after the custom of that age, and 
 thus both the crowd and the noise were diminishing, leav- 
 ing the yard in a short time deserted, except by a few ser- 
 vants who crossed to and fro in the performance of their 
 different duties. The opening and closing of doors might 
 be heard, and lights appeared and disappeared in the bal- 
 cony and through the halls ; and when at last the clock 
 struck the hour of six, the men on guard at the entrance- 
 gate raised the bridge which led to the square, and the 
 strident noise of its heavy chains had ceased, a dead 
 silence, no more interrupted that night, reigned all over 
 the place. 
 
 By this time Vittoria had traversed the hall, where the 
 menials were putting out the lights and arranging the 
 furniture, and reached the rooms to which the Lady El- 
 vira had retired, and where she was then taking off her 
 jewels and ornaments. She found her thus employed, 
 and attended by two maids, who, by her manners, did not 
 appear to satisfy her ; she was flurried, her cheeks very 
 red, and one might judge that she was far from being 
 pleased with the evening. When she saw Vittoria, an 
 innate sense, springing perhaps from a hidden remorse, 
 made her think that her friend had come for the purpose 
 of speaking to her on a subject which she did not like to 
 hear mentioned at that moment. Hence she could not 
 well conceal a movement of surprise which betrayed 
 some slight impatience. Vittoria perceived it, but seemed 
 not to notice it, and with great sweetness requested her 
 to delay her retiring to rest for a few minutes, and to ac- 
 company her to see Ginevra. She was obliged, there-
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 293 
 
 fore, to give her friend a brief account of how the dying 
 woman happened to be in the castle ; and Gonzalo's 
 daughter, who, with a wild brain, had also a good heart, 
 was happy in granting the request, the more so as she 
 saw things taking a better turn than she expected. 
 
 They entered Ginevra's room together, and soon were 
 at her bedside. The beauty of Lady Elvira did not ap- 
 pear to so much advantage when her hair had been 
 arranged with the greatest skill, as it did now when it 
 was flowing in disorder, waving over her neck and shin- 
 ing in long tresses of golden color. Fra Mariano mod- 
 estly withdrew to one side, and poor Ginevra felt an 
 inward shudder, and gave a sigh, to which the com- 
 passion of the good friar's heart responded. Thus re- 
 mained the three women in silence for a few minutes, 
 when Ginevra, raising herself on her elbow, said : 
 
 " Signora ! you certainly wonder how I should have 
 dared to trespass upon you, as I am a stranger to you, 
 and you to me ; but every allowance is made to one at 
 this pass. Before, however, I speak to you more openly, 
 I must obtain your leave to do so ; can I address a few 
 words to you with freedom ? Whatever answer you may 
 give me, it will, within a few moments, be forever buried 
 in the grave ; but may I speak in the presence of this 
 lady, or do you prefer that we were alone ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " answered the Lady Elvira, " this is the dear- 
 est friend I have, and she loves me even more than I 
 deserve ; so say whatever you wish, my dear lady, be- 
 cause I am here to listen to you." 
 
 " If it is so, then, and by your leave, I will request you 
 to answer me only one question." 
 
 But as she came to this, as it were to summon strength, 
 and lo lead the way to the question which she did not
 
 294 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 know how to put in words, she remained silent for a mo- 
 ment. The resolution of pardoning the one who had been 
 the occasion of her desperate grief, had been made in 
 great sincerity ; but none will be found so severe as to 
 charge her with sin, because the devoted woman, at the 
 moment she was to become certain that her eyes had not 
 deceived her, and that the youth at the feet of the Lady 
 Elvira was actually Ettore, felt an invincible reluctance to 
 obtain this certainty. Where can the heart be found that 
 could blame her for nurturing a vague hope that she had 
 been deceived, and that Ettore was after all the same as 
 ever ? 
 
 However, be that as it may, our opinion is that those 
 feelings were not entirely overcome, and hence arose the 
 short hesitation which caused that moment of silence. 
 
 But at last she spoke resolutely, and with clear, em- 
 phatic words : 
 
 " Tell me, then, and forgive me if I dare to ask so 
 much : were you not this evening on the balcony over 
 the sea, about three o'clock, and was it not Ettore Fiera- 
 mosca who knelt at your feet ? " 
 
 This question, so pointed as well as unexpected, star- 
 tled the two maidens, but from different causes. The 
 cheeks of the Lady Elvira reddened like two burning 
 coals, and she could not utter a word. Ginevra kept her 
 eyes riveted upon her, and understood the whole at once ; 
 her blood curdled in her veins, as she spoke again, but 
 with faltering voice : 
 
 " Lady ! I am too bold, I know it ; but see, I am dy- 
 ing, and I beseech you for that pardon, which we all hope 
 in another world ; do not deny me this favor ; answer me : 
 was it you ? . . . was it he ? ... 
 
 The Lady' Elvira was bewildered ; she turned a timid
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 295 
 
 glance to Vittoria, who, reading in that look the fear of 
 her own severity, and knowing that it was not then the 
 place or time to show it, embraced her friend, and without 
 speaking endeavored to inspire her with confidence. 
 
 Ginevra felt an increasing agony while that hesitation 
 lasted; she outstretched her open and trembling hands 
 to the maiden, and with a husky voice, almost like a cry 
 of despair, she added : 
 
 " Well, then ? . . . " 
 
 The Lady Elvira, frightened, drew closer to her friend, 
 lowered her eyes and said : 
 
 " Yes . . . we were . . ." 
 
 The face of the most unhappy Ginevra underwent a 
 change, as if it had become emaciated all at once ; but 
 with great effort she rose and set up in the bed, took the 
 Lady Elvira by the hand, drew her nearer, threw both 
 her arms around her neck, and said : " May God bless 
 you, then, and make you both happy ! " 
 
 But the last word was scarcely audible ; and perhaps, 
 before it had been entirely articulated, her soul had de- 
 parted to receive the reward of victories the most arduous, 
 \ve believe, to be achieved by a woman on earth, and of a 
 pardon the most magnanimous that can ever be granted 
 by a human heart. 
 
 Her arms, which were entwined around Elvira's neck, 
 lost their power, and fell together with the inanimate 
 body on the couch. Her countenance assumed in one 
 instant the color and the semblance of death ; the two 
 maidens perceived it, and gave a piercing shriek. The 
 friar remained breathless ; at last, joining his hands, he 
 said : " That is a heavenly countenance." Then they all 
 knelt in prayer, and implored from God eternal rest to 
 that soul, which needed it so much. They composed her
 
 290 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 liands over her bosom, and Fra Mariano, having entwined 
 the rosary he took from his belt between her fingers, 
 placed a light at the foot of the bed, and said : Requiescat 
 in pace ; and then led the two young ladies out of that 
 sad place. Returning to the bed, he remained by the 
 corpse, occupied in prayer during the hours that re- 
 mained until daylight. 
 
 Among the various motives, that led Gonzalo to grant 
 his consent to the challenges between the Spaniards and 
 the French, and the Italians and the French, the most 
 important of all was to gain time for the arrival of the 
 reinforcements which were expected from Spain by sea. 
 Deprived as he was of them, and too inferior in strength 
 to the French army, he had been forced to keep close 
 within the walls of Barletta, and had never been able to 
 engage in any affair of importance. But during that 
 day, in which he had entertained the French barons at 
 his castle, he had received letters announcing the arrival 
 of vessels laden with soldiers, which had already doubled 
 the Cape of Reggio, and would not be long in landing 
 at Barletta. Feeling, therefore, that it would be im- 
 provident to let too much time be wasted in this way, and 
 that it was of paramount importance not to damp the 
 ardor of his men, who would feel elated by the arrival 
 of new troops, he contrived, in his conversation with the 
 Duke of Nemours and others of the French, to prevail 
 on them to appoint a day as near as possible. It was, 
 therefore, agreed that the passage-at-arms between the 
 Spaniards and the French should take place on the day 
 after the ball, on a spot along the sea-shore, about half 
 a mile out of the gate that leads to Bari ; and that the
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 297 
 
 Italians should fight on the third day, in a place already 
 chosen by Brancaleone and Prospero Colonna, near the 
 village of Quarato, half-way between Barletta and the 
 French camp. 
 
 The champions of both parties, having been informed 
 by their leaders of the new arrangements, betook them- 
 selves to get ready at once. Those of the French who 
 were to take part in the field, left the dancing hall before 
 the rest, and repaired to their camp to give such orders 
 as were necessary for the battle ; and the Spaniards also re- 
 turned to their quarters to make their preparations, and to 
 take some rest before daybreak. Inigo and Brancaleone 
 heard the news, when, having laid Ginevra in the room 
 whence she would not go out alive, they had gone to call 
 Fra Mariano ; and the former, being one of the combat- 
 ants, in order to arrange matters, had been obliged to leave 
 to his companion the charge of waiting on Fieramosca, 
 and aiding him in his troubles. They pressed each 
 others' hands as they separated, and Inigo remarked : 
 " I cannot, for the life of me, see how he can fight 
 day after to-morrow, when he could not keep on his feet 
 this evening ! " 
 
 Brancaleone gave no answer, but shook his head, bit 
 his lower lip, and showed, by his look, how fully he felt 
 the remark of the Spaniard. He then left, and going 
 to the harbor, took a boat, and hastened to the Monas- 
 tery with all speed, to tell Ettore the result of his re- 
 searches. 
 
 But before we tell our readers in what state he found 
 his friend, whom he had left in such a miserable plight, 
 we are obliged, by anticipating the course of events, to 
 give an account of what happened the following day, and 
 of the result of the challenge given by the Spaniards. 
 13*
 
 298 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 The sun had already been for one hour above the 
 horizon when the eleven champions of each side stood 
 opposite to each other in the lists. Inigo, Azevedo, Correa, 
 old Sagredo, and Don Garcia de Paredes, were the ino.-t 
 renowned among the Spaniards. The rest, although of 
 inferior note, were all good soldiers, and skilful horsemen. 
 Pedro Navarro had been appointed by Don Gonzalo 
 marshal of the day. On the French side, this charge 
 had been given to Mouseigneur de Pelisse, who had 
 among his men Bayard, the pride of all the armies of 
 those days. The battle was for a long time equally suc- 
 cessful on both sides. Sagredo at last, had both the reins 
 of his bridle, which he held very tight, cut in twain, and 
 was carried at full speed out of the lists. This, being 
 one of the chances foreseen in the laws of tournaments, 
 was considered a defeat, and he to whom it happened was 
 bound to surrender. Good Sagredo, perceiving that the 
 horse was near leaping over the bounds marked all 
 around by huge stones, threw himself from the horse ; 
 but, both from the difficulty of the leap, and from having 
 his limbs stiffened by age, he fell on his knees ; still he 
 held his ground, and bravely defended himself against 
 two men on horseback. But his sword was shattered, 
 and with no other arms at his disposal, and unable to 
 take shelter among his companions who were at too great 
 a distance, he was compelled to surrender. However, he 
 came out with great honor, was accompanied by shouts 
 of acclamations, and great sympathy was felt for his 
 misfortune. The battle continued after this accident, and 
 at a time it seemed that fortune was leaning towards the 
 Spanish ; many of the French had their horses killed. 
 Here we must call the attention of our readers to the 
 fact, that in spite of the old laws of tournaments, it was
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 299 
 
 often customary to agree beforehand that they might 
 wound their horses, for the purpose of better showing 
 the address of the combatants, and also to give it the 
 better appearance of true battle, in which seldom, if 
 ever, this courtesy was allowed. After two hours of hard 
 fighting, the marshals ordered the heralds to sound the 
 trumpets, thus to separate the bands and grant them 
 a brief respite. 
 
 The Spaniards were all still mounted, and of their 
 number the only one missing was Sagredo. On the 
 French side, one had been made prisoner, and on this 
 score they were equal ; but there were seven of their 
 hoi'ses slain on the ground. Bayard, however, was still 
 in his saddle. After half an hour of rest, the fighting was 
 resumed, and in spite of the efforts on the part of the 
 Spaniards, their adversaries maintained themselves, as it 
 were, intrenched behind the dead horses, over which 
 those of the Spaniards, no matter how sharply spurred 
 on, would never trample. Therefore, after much useless 
 struggling, the French offered to desist, and proclaim 
 the honors of the day equal on both sides.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE obstinate defence on the part of the French, and 
 the difficulty of conquering them entirely, entrenched as 
 they were behind the corpses of their steeds, made the 
 majority of the Spaniards feel disposed to accept the 
 proposal. But Diego Garcia would not listen to it ; 
 panting with rage, he shouted with a voice of thun- 
 der to his companions, that it was a shame to retire 
 before men half conquered, and that the battle should be 
 carried by making them feel that the Spaniards were 
 their superiors, both on foot and on horseback ; and hav- 
 ing no other arms besides his sword, which could not 
 reach them, he would stoop down in his fury, and lifting 
 those large stones which marked the bounds, and which 
 could have been scarcely moved by a man of ordinary 
 strength, he flung them in the midst of the opposite squad. 
 But it was not a difficult task to avoid being struck by 
 them ; so even this manoeuvre had no effect. Neverthe- 
 less, the battle was rekindled, and it lasted until the sun 
 was near setting beyond the horizon ; and as the French 
 maintained their position with admirable address, it be- 
 came necessary for both parties to desist. The judges 
 awarded to both parties the honors of the day, rendering 
 to the Spaniards the praise of more valor, and to the 
 French that of more perseverance. The prisoners were 
 exchanged ; and the champions of the two nations, op-
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 301 
 
 pressed with fatigue, panting, and well bruised, left the 
 lists, one band for the camp, the other for the town. 
 
 When the Spaniards entered the gates of Barletta, it 
 was near night. They alighted at the castle, and being 
 admitted to the presence of Gonzalo, they gave an account 
 of the fortunes of the day. The great Captain was 
 greatly offended, and reproached them, because, having 
 begun so well, they had not kept their advantage to the 
 end. The noble nature of Diego Garcia shone here in 
 ail its lustre. He who, even on the battle field, had re- 
 buked those of his companions who would leave the affair 
 incompleted, here in the presence of Gonzalo under- 
 took to defend them boldly, protesting that they had 
 behaved as became the true men they were, and had at- 
 tained their purpose, which was to make the French 
 acknowledge that they were equally as valiant on horse- 
 back as the former boasted to be. But Gonzalo did not 
 receive this plea well, and cutting the words short with 
 the remark Par mejores os emtrie yo al campo,* he 
 dismissed them. 
 
 We will now resume the thread of events, narrating 
 what happened to Brancaleone on the evening before, 
 after he had left Inigo to go to Fieramosca. 
 
 When he landed at the island of Sant' Orsola, the 
 anxiety which he had felt to make a quick passage had 
 been sobered down by thinking how he should break the 
 news of Ginevra's condition. Slowly he ascended the 
 steps which led to the terrace of the convent, and hav- 
 ing arranged his ideas, he went to the strangers' rooms. 
 But he found that the speech he had pi-epared would 
 
 * / sent you for belter. Prescotfs translation. Ferd. ami Isnb. 
 cliap. xi.
 
 302 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 be of no use. Entering the room, he saw Zorais sitting 
 at the head of the bed, and beckoning to him with 
 her hand to step lightly, lest he might disturb Ettore, 
 who was in a profound sleep. He gently withdrew while 
 the young woman rose, and having glanced at Fiera- 
 mosca, saw that he was still enjoying a tranquil rest, 
 and with a soft step she followed Brancaleone to one 
 of the adjoining rooms. 
 
 " All right," said Zorais. " To-morrow Ettore will be 
 as well as ever. But Ginevra, where is she ? have 
 you found her out ? " 
 
 On hearing the good news about Fieramosca, Bran- 
 caleone began to breathe freely, and answered : 
 
 " Ginevra is at the castle, in good hands, and you 
 will be able to see her very soon. But tell me, will 
 Ettore then be really well ? Will he be able to fight ? 
 We must fight the day after to-morrow." 
 
 " Yes, he shall fight." 
 
 There was a kind of mysterious expression in the 
 manner of Zorais, and Brancaleone felt his curiosity 
 much excited. He was anxious to be more particularly 
 informed in regard to the nature of the sickness of his 
 friend ; but she only answered that he had been slightly 
 wounded in the neck, and said nothing of the stiletto 
 being poisoned. Nevertheless, perceiving that the wom- 
 an did not give straightforward answers, he continued 
 to question her, but could not succeed in obtaining any 
 more precise information. 
 
 " There is a fable with us in the east," said Zorais, 
 with a mournful smile, " that a lion in the desert once 
 had his life saved by a mouse. I shall tell you no 
 more ; and suffice it for you to know that within a few 
 hours Ettore's arm will be as strong as the neck of a
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 303 
 
 wild bull. The only thing to be done now is to let 
 hiru rest in perfect quiet ; to-morrow he will awake in 
 time to get ready for the battle. I shall now go back 
 to him to be ready for any thing he may want. Trust 
 him to me. I understand the art of curing wounds, 
 and have healed some far worse than this." 
 
 Brancaleone perceiving that there was nothing more 
 to be done for his friend, begged of Zorais that when 
 Ettore awoke, she would reassure him in regard to 
 Ginevra ; tell him that the battle was to take place the 
 day after; that he should return to the convent at mid- 
 day, if he did not see him in the city before that hour. 
 Having thus arranged matters, he returned to Barletta, 
 where, before going home, he wished to go to the castle 
 to know what had become of Ginevra. But he found 
 the gate closed, and the bridge raised ; hence he was 
 compelled to wait until the following day. 
 
 At daybreak he hurried to the castle, and met the 
 eleven Spanish champions emerging from it, on their 
 way to the lists, and followed by all who were free to 
 go, so that very few had remained in the castle. He 
 ascended the stairs, but met no person from whom lie 
 could obtain any information. He reached the door 
 of the room where he had left Ginevra the evening be- 
 fore, and knocked. Fra Mariano, who had spent the 
 night there, opened, and taking him into an adjoining 
 room, told Brancaleone all that had happened. 
 
 The sad news grieved and distressed the mind of 
 Brancaleone, because this direful misfortune fell upon 
 his friend when he was the least prepared to bear it, 
 and when he stood in need of his whole energy to meet 
 the approaching engagement. He was afraid le.st, being 
 overcome by his grief, he might not be equal to a trial
 
 304 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 
 
 so arduous and so important. He therefore agreed with 
 the friar, that it was expedient to keep Ginevra's death 
 concealed from Ettore all that day ; and that he would 
 on the morrow himself take the charge of carrying the 
 corpse to the convent, accoi'ding to her wishes, while 
 Ettore would be engaged in the passage-at-avms. They 
 did not apprehend much difficulty in keeping the event 
 secret during that day, when the castle was almost de- 
 serted ; and thought necessary to inform of it only Gon- 
 zalo, that he might grant the necessary help to transfer 
 the body, and to have the funeral performed with honor. 
 
 As Fieramosca must have some explanation, they 
 agreed that Brancaleone should tell him that Ginevra 
 was well that she could not see him that day that 
 she only wished to remind him of the honor of Italy, 
 hoping that he would fight with that valor which such a 
 cause deserved and she would pray for him and his 
 companions. All this could be said in all truth, and it 
 was such a message as to give him comfort and nerve 
 before approaching the battle. 
 
 Having thus settled this most important part of the 
 affair, Brancaleone went to the square, and having en- 
 tered the quarters of the Colonnas, he met them both in 
 the yard, where they had assembled the thirteen Italians, 
 and most minutely examined the armor, the harness, and 
 the horses, in order that every thing might be in readi- 
 ness on the following day, and that every part of the 
 equipments should be tried beforehand. 
 
 Brancaleone, who had knowledge of the meeting, had 
 sent thither his attendants, and those of Fieramosca, 
 with their horses and armor. But their owner was not 
 there, and the only answer given to the inquiries was, 
 that nobody had seen him.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 305 
 
 Prospero Colonna heard the news with amazement, 
 which soon changed into anger. Therefore, when Bran- 
 caleone made his appearance, he asked, with great 
 severity of manner : 
 
 " And where is Fieramosca ; why does he not come ? " 
 
 " Eccellenza ! " answered Brancaleone, " he will be 
 here in a few moments. His delay is not voluntary. . . . 
 A sudden occurrence, and of very grave nature . . . ." 
 
 " What can there be of more importance than to-mor- 
 row's business? I did not imagine that he could have 
 any other affair at heart just now." 
 
 Fanfulla, remembering the incidents of the previous 
 evening, wished to give the conversation a turn that might 
 afford him an opportunity to speak of them, and remarked 
 with a smile : 
 
 " Eh ! he must have danced too much last night, or he 
 must have found some new nail to drive off that old one ; 
 and then of course it is not very pleasant to rise too 
 early." 
 
 " He has found the plague that may God send to thee," 
 replied Brancaleone. " Thou believest every one as mad 
 as thyself? I assure you, Eccellenza, on my honor, he 
 will be here instantly ; and I will go myself to hurry him 
 on." 
 
 He thought this would be the best, because, although 
 assured by Zorais, he feared lest some new accident had 
 happened. He Avent to the harbor to take another trip 
 to the island. Having entered a boat, just as he was dip- 
 ping the oar, he saw another doubling the mole, and to 
 his great joy he saw Ettore, who hastened towards him, 
 and leaping on the shore, said : 
 
 "Where is Ginevra? is she sick? what has happened 
 to her ? quick, quick, let us go to her."
 
 306 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 " Quick, quick to the Colonnas instead ; they are only 
 waiting for you. Ginevra is well, and you shall see her 
 afterwards." 
 
 " Well, I am glad that she is well ; but let us go to her." 
 
 " But did not Zorais tell you that the battle comes off 
 to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Yes, she did ; but now, in God's name, bring me to 
 Ginevra ..." 
 
 " You cannot see her now, nor to-day either ..." 
 
 " And I say ..." 
 
 " But if you do not listen to me, and give me a chance 
 to speak, we shall never come to any conclusion. You 
 must then know and all this I tell you in her own name, 
 not that I have seen her, but she has given orders that I 
 should take this message to you that she is well, Sig- 
 nora Vittoria has taken care of her, looks to her comfort, 
 and has rendered to her those affectionate services which 
 her case needed, so that she wants nothing. She 
 wishes you not to think of anything else to-day, and not 
 to see her ; that you should keep yourself calm, fight to- 
 morrow as it becomes you, not forget the honor of Italy, 
 and bear in mind all that you have so often spoken to- 
 gether on this subject ; and she will pray to God for your 
 victory ..." 
 
 " But, oh ! why can I not see her ? . . . I fear there is 
 something wrong in this matter." 
 
 " And I say to you that there is nothing wrong ; if I 
 wished to tell you how the tumult of yesterday ended, I 
 could not, because I don't know it myself; but in heaven's 
 name let this be enough for the present, to know that she 
 is safe ; we shall have leisure to know all the rest after 
 the battle, and we have no time now to think of any thing 
 else. Let us go : Signer Prospero and the rest are wait-
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 307 
 
 ing for us ; they have been asking of you, and some of 
 them are amazed at your conduct, that you should not 
 be with them at this hour. Come, have courage ! You 
 have always been a man ! and it is really shameful to 
 trample now under foot the honor and fame of the great 
 soldier you have always maintained." 
 
 " Let us go, yes, let us go," Fieramosca replied with a 
 slight show of impatience ; " I am not a horse that needs 
 so much spurring. I only requested you to let me see her 
 for one instant ; will this make the world crumble to 
 atoms ? " 
 
 " The world will not come to a crash . . . but can't 
 you understand that they are all there, on parade, and 
 that you are the only one wanted . . . what must they 
 think of this ? " 
 
 " Well then," rejoined Fieramosca, hastening his steps, 
 they had made little headway during the above dialogue, 
 as one wanted to go to the castle, while the other endeav- 
 ored to drag him to the Colonnas, " well, let us go, you 
 spoke truly . . . duty and honor before every thing else." 
 
 And as they wei'e hurrying along, Brancaleone ad- 
 dressed him the following questions : 
 
 " Well then, by the by, how dost thou feel ? the 
 wound ? . . . " 
 
 " Oh ! it is nothing ... I will tell thee all by and 
 by ... I have no time now . . . What deviltry ! and 
 that poor Zorais ! she would not tell me any thing ; but I 
 know it all ... I could judge from the great sufferings 
 I had . . . The stiletto must have been poisoned . . . 
 I hope she has not sucked the wound . . . and perilled 
 her health, perhaps her life . . . but alas ! I fear it will 
 be the case . . . But I was so much bewildered that I 
 cannot remember whether it was a fact or a dream I went 
 through."
 
 308 KTTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 " But after all, you are well now ? . . . " 
 
 " As if I had never been sick." 
 
 And saying this, they had entered the yard, and stood 
 before Prospero Colonna, who, after a few remarks about 
 Fieramosca's delay, proceeded in the inspection in which 
 he was engaged. 
 
 The examination was so minute that it lasted several 
 hours. They tried the horses as to their strength ; they 
 tried the armor with lance, battle-axe, and sword. The 
 offensive weapons were wielded upon wood and iron ; 
 the least flaw or straining would condemn them ; and the 
 less perfect were rejected. About mid-day, when all 
 returned to their lodgings, only Ettore was detained 
 under pretence of arranging some particulars regarding 
 the challenge, but in fact for the purpose of not allowing 
 him any time to follow his own inclinations. Branca- 
 leone had drawn Signor Prospero aside, acquainted him 
 with what had happened, and requested him to arrange 
 matters s that Fieramosca should be kept busy the whole 
 day, and it was done accordingly. At night, when there 
 could be no reasonable pretext for detaining him, he was 
 dismissed, and Brancaleone accompanied him home, talk- 
 ing all the time about the profession of arms, and how 
 they should act the following day with the enemy ; and so 
 well did he succeed in engaging the attention of his friend, 
 that the latter had no chance of allowing his imagination 
 to wander after the object towards which his heart was 
 so irresistibly drawn. As they traversed the square, 
 they met the band of the Spanish champions returning 
 from the lists, and stopping to greet them and to hear the 
 result of the battle, they tarried so long that it was late 
 in the night when they went home. 
 
 " These diables of Frenchmen have tough skins,"
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 309 
 
 remarked Ettore, in taking leave of his friend ; " and 
 the Spaniards have got meat for their teeth." 
 
 " So much the better," answered Brancaleone ; " we 
 will have to do with men ; it is not for nothing that we 
 follow to the Colonna banner. For my part, I hope 
 I'll do the work of two to-morrow. Just imagine what 
 those ribalds of the Orsini would say, should we be beat- 
 en ! That great poltroon of the Count of Pitigliano ! 
 would he not enjoy it ! ... but this time, I trust, he will 
 not have this pleasure." 
 
 " No, no ! " Fieramosca replied ; " and perhaps some 
 of these Frenchmen will regret that they have ever 
 tasted the figs of Puglia. Well ! let us go to rest now, 
 and on the morrow we will show that if the wretched 
 Italians are incessantly outraged, it is because an ac- 
 cursed fate weighs upon them ; but after all, take man to 
 man, we fear neither them nor the world. Goodby, 
 Brancaleone. I know what thou wishest to say," he 
 added with a smile; "fear not until to-morrow evening 
 I shall think of nothing else but of the business we have 
 on hand ; and I swear to thee that my blood is a great 
 deal more hot to-day than when the challenge was ac- 
 cepted ; and I trust that neither Italy nor you will have 
 occasion to be ashamed of me." 
 
 " I am quite sure of that," answered Brancaleone. 
 " To-morrow." 
 
 " To-morrow," replied Fieramosca, presenting his hand, 
 and they parted. 
 
 Fieramosca wanted to have a look at the stable before 
 he went up to his quarters ; and having entered it, he 
 began to caress his good battle horse with that affection, 
 and I might say friendship, which every soldier feels for 
 the companion of his labors and of his dangers. He 

 
 310 ETTOKE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 softly patted bis neck and his shoulders ; and the noble 
 steed drawing his ears back, shook his head, and in his 
 play feigned to bite his master. 
 
 " My poor Airoue, eat away, and have good cheer 
 as long as there is a chance ; it is not sure thou shalt 
 enjoy this stall to-morrow eve. . . . For any other 
 business I would take Boccanera, and I would not risk 
 thy skin ; but to-morrow I really need to bestride thee. 
 I am sure, thou wilt not lose thy footing ; I know that. 
 And then," he added with a laugh, and taking the mouth 
 of the horse between his hands, " thou also art an Italian, 
 and thou also must needs carry thy cross." 
 
 Having then examined every thing, and being satisfied 
 that all was right, " Masuccio," he said, calling on his 
 squire, " give him water at four o'clock, and then as 
 many oats as he can eat ; come up to arm me at five." 
 
 These orders being given, he went up stairs ; after 
 a few minutes the light was put out, and he found him- 
 self in bed with the firm resolution of going to sleep and 
 rest. At first he felt as if he might easily sleep ; but 
 first one thought presented itself to his mind, then an- 
 other, and another, and he had been already lying for 
 several hours without closing an eye for one moment. 
 . After the words of Brancaleone, he had made his mind 
 easy in regard to the case of Ginevra ; but the case now 
 presented itself enveloped in darkness and suspicion ; a 
 swarm of indistinct fears crowded around his heart. " It 
 must be a very strange mystery that I must not know it 
 until to-morrow ! would Brancaleone deceive me ? " 
 
 Once he felt an impulse in his heart even to curse the 
 challenge ; but the thought was driven away with high 
 disdain, even before it had been half formed. 
 
 " Oh, for shame ! shame ! " he exclaimed, sitting up
 
 ETTOKE FIERAMOSCA. 311 
 
 in his bed ; " how could I harbor such baseness in my 
 heart ! . . . I am not the man I once was. What 
 would Ginevra say were she to know how sadly changed 
 I am, and how cold I have grown towards those deeds 
 which formerly would have set the very blood of my 
 veins on fire." 
 
 These thoughts passing through his mind made him 
 angry with himself, so much so that rising in a fury, he 
 dressed himself, and left the bed, which affording no sleep 
 had become irksome. He went out on the terrace, and 
 seated himself on the little stony guard in which he was 
 so often wont to sit, under the palm tree, resolved there 
 to remain waiting for the break of day, which was now 
 fast approaching. 
 
 The moon, pale and crescent, was mirrored in the calm 
 waters. At about five hundred yards on the left, the 
 Rock arose, scarcely visible at that hour, and appeared 
 like a huge dark heap of stones, the merlons alone being 
 discernible over the towers against the heavens. Ettore's 
 eye was riveted on those walls, and his heart throbbed, 
 thinking of her who was kept within them ; and he imag- 
 ined he heard from time to time a distant murmur like 
 the alternate reading of psalms. But the sound came 
 from so far, that he could not distinctly understand its 
 nature and meaning. Through a window, which being 
 open on a side of the castle he could only see obliquely, 
 a light appeared burning the whole night. He would 
 fain have given his blood not to see that lamp any more, 
 and he turned his eyes another way, saying, "I am 
 very silly to torture my mind with such imaginations ; " 
 but the eyes would revert to the window in spite of him- 
 self, and there stood that light still burning. 
 
 Very often does man deal with himself in bad faith,
 
 312 KTTORE FIKRAMOSCA. 
 
 when he is a prey to harassing misgivings. This was 
 the case with Ettore. He endeavored to persuade him- 
 self of what his mind would by no means believe, that 
 all was right with Ginevra, that nothing evil had hap- 
 pened to her, and that the mystery which he could not 
 but observe in the circumstances, was only a fancy of 
 his, and the effect of a diseased imagination. And if he 
 essayed all this mental labor to deceive himself, he did so 
 because he knew that he could not concentrate all the 
 energies of his mind upon the subject of the forthcoming 
 battle, except by assuming the probability if not the cer- 
 tainty of that which his calmer reason represented to be 
 a mere illusion. 
 
 " Oh ! yes, yes," he would say to himself with a shak- 
 ing of the head, and passing his hand over his brow and 
 hair, as if to drive away the thoughts which were crowd- 
 ing upon his mind ; " let us take care of our honor before 
 every thing else . . . and to-morrow, perhaps, by this 
 time I shall have said to her, Ginevra, we have won the 
 battle ; " . . . then, as a new thought arose in his mind, 
 " perhaps she will have seen me carried into Barletta on 
 a bier, and remarked, Poor Ettore, thou hast done thy 
 best ! . . . And if it should happen so ? then I shall have 
 died like a good man and true. She will weep over me ; 
 but she could never bear that I should live at the price 
 of cowardice ; aye, she would feel proud in saying, we 
 were friends from childJiood . . . true! . . . but then she 
 will live alone, without friends ; and she does not even 
 know that her husband is living in the French camp . . . 
 but if she knew it, how could she present herself after so 
 long a time ? " 
 
 Ettore had formed in his mind, and partly carried out, 
 the resolution of recommending her to Brancaleone ; but
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 313 
 
 then thinking that he might also fall in the lists, he re- 
 solved to write a letter to Prospero Colonna, with direc- 
 tions that the little property he had in Capua, viz : a 
 house and a small farm, together with his horses, their 
 equipments, amounting to several thousand ducats, should 
 be given to Maria Giuevra Rossi, of Monreale. He re- 
 lighted the lamp, and in a few moments the letter was 
 written. Then he thought to enclose therein one for 
 Ginevra, as if to take leave > and to recommend to her 
 care the Saracen maiden, to whom he felt grateful for so 
 many reasons ; and as it was the hour of cockcrowing, 
 and the men were already stirring in the stable, having 
 very little time, he only wrote these few lines : 
 
 " Ginevra, I am on the moment of mounting my 
 horse ; and I cannot say that I shall alight from it at 
 night alive. If it has been otherwise determined in 
 heaven, I am sure that after having bestowed a tear on 
 him who, from childhood, has been thy faithful friend and 
 servant, thou wilt rejoice that I have met a death, than 
 which none can be imagined either more glorious or more 
 enviable. Enjoy, for my sake, the little property that 
 belongs to me ; thou knowest that I am free, and without 
 near kindred. I only request thee, and I need not waste 
 many words on it, to befriend my servant Masuccio, who, 
 from the day he was wounded on the shoulder at Olfanto, 
 cannot help himself much ; and without some help from 
 thee, he might be reduced to beg his way through life ; 
 which would be a poor honor to my memory. One thing 
 more. Thy husband is alive, and serves in the army of 
 the Duke of Nemours. I have no more time. I hear 
 them stirring at the Colonna-quarters. God guard thee 
 in his keeping. I recommend Zorais also to thee. 
 
 14 " ETTORE."
 
 314 ETTORE FIEEAMOSCA. 
 
 And, in fact, the trumpeter was heard making those 
 flourishes, short and broken, which are the usual prelude 
 before sounding the reveille. A certain swelling noise, 
 and a subdued bustling issuing from the ground-rooms of 
 Ettore's and the adjoining houses, voices undistinguished, 
 and the tread of men and horses over the pavement, plainly 
 announced that both the actors and the spectators of the 
 forthcoming passage-at-arms were bestirring themselves. 
 The skies, however, had not yet given any sign of break 
 of day ; on the contrary, a dingy mist concealed the 
 stars, and rendered the atmosphere very heavy. 
 
 Fieramosca perceived the appearance of the sky as he 
 was on the moment of sealing the two letters which he 
 had written before the open window, out of which he saw 
 the slanting light from his lamp illuminating that portion 
 of the atmosphere it struck upon. The gloomy appear- 
 ance of the weather increased that sadness which had 
 already taken possession of his heart ; and what between 
 the bats, which, attracted by the light, fled with swift and 
 tremulous wings to and fro before his window, and the 
 watches on the towers calling in mournful tones the 
 hour for change of guards, the natural melancholy of 
 the hour was increased, and the devoted youth felt for a 
 moment oppressed by it. But the heavy and sounding 
 tread of two men, who, having ascended the steps, were 
 entering his room, made him lift his countenance and put 
 on a cheerful and bold look, so that they might not notice 
 the actual state of his feelings. 
 
 Brancaleone, encased hi his armor except his head, 
 was followed by Masuccio who carried Fieramosca's 
 armor. The bell from San Dominico's steeple tolled the 
 hour of mass, at which the combatants were to assist 
 before departing for the lists.
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 315 
 
 " Put on thy arms, Ettore, because they will be all in 
 the church in a few moments," was Brancaleone's greet- 
 ing ; and suiting the action to the words, with the help 
 of Masuccio, he had in a few moments covered his friend 
 with the perfect and shining armor which he used to 
 wear on occasions of great solemnity. It was from the 
 hands of one of the most skilful workmen of Milan ; it 
 fitted the well formed person of the knight, and it had 
 been so skilfully put together at the joints, that it dis- 
 played, without the least alteration, the graceful features 
 of the body, allowing him at the same time the free and 
 easy motion of his limbs. As he had completed arming 
 himself, and had girded the sword on his left, and the 
 dagger on the right, they both went down stairs, followed 
 by their menials who carried helmets and bucklers, and 
 led the horses. They entered San Dominico, where, in a 
 few minutes, the twelve champions, with Prospero Co- 
 lonna at their head, arrived, surrounded by a throng of 
 people. 
 
 The form of the church was quadrangular ; there were 
 three naves, separated by columns on which groined 
 arches were poised. Near the chancel two lateral 
 extensions gave it the appearance of a cross. Ac- 
 cording to the ancient style, the stalls for the monks 
 were in two ranges on each side and in front of the altar, 
 and were carved in wood, highly ornamented with foliage 
 and fretwork, which, from old age, had acquired a shin- 
 ing and darkish hue. In the centre of the choir was set 
 a long kneeling bench, fitted up for thirteen occupants, 
 and on it knelt the Italian men-at-arms. The light of 
 day was increasing, but it was not as yet so light as to 
 make its way through the thick stained glass which filled 
 the narrow Gothic windows ; hence the main body of the
 
 316 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 church was almost entirely enveloped in darkness, and the 
 reddish lights from the altar only faintly gleamed over the 
 breast plates of the warriors, leaving every other figure 
 almost invisible. Prospero Colonna, sheathed in his 
 armor, stood a little in advance of the rest, and had at 
 his feet, to kneel upon, a cushion of red velvet on which 
 a column had been richly embroidered in silver, and had 
 been carried by two pages, who stood at a little distance 
 from him. Mass was commenced, and Fra Mariano was 
 officiating. Any heart that was capable of generous and 
 magnanimous feelings, could not remain untouched at the 
 sight of those valiant and bold Italian young warriors, 
 who bent their brows, furrowed by fatigue and the sword, 
 before the God of armies, beseeching of Him to grant to 
 their weapons virtue and strength to conquer those who 
 wished to drag in the mire the Italian name. 
 
 Their bearing expressed the religious feelings swelling 
 in their hearts, albeit the constant practise of military 
 drill gave them even then a look of boldness. On the 
 left hand, at the extreme end of the bench, stood Fiera- 
 mosca, upright, motionless, with his arms crossed on his 
 breast. The door of the vestry opened before him ; and 
 the servants of the church, who were passing to and 
 fro on errands of their office, might have easily an- 
 noyed him in his prayers'; but a scene was enacted 
 within the sacristy, and a conversation carried on, which 
 could not but deeply affect a mind most sadly pre- 
 occupied. 
 
 A man, dressed in a long robe of dark color, stood in 
 the midst of the vestry addressing a brother of the order 
 of San Dominico, and requesting him : 
 
 " Which one must I get ready ; that for the poor, or 
 the one used for the quality ? "
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 317 
 
 " Of course, the best," answered the Dominican ; " you 
 know that it is Signer Gonzalo who pays the expenses." 
 
 The servant moved away ; Fieramosca lost sight of 
 him, but heard his footsteps as he entered what seemed 
 to be a closet ; then silence reigned for a few minutes ; 
 then again he heard the same footsteps coming back, and 
 something dragging on the stone floor. The same man 
 reappeared, drawing after him, and leaving in the midst 
 of the sacristy a black bier ornamented with galloons of 
 silver, over which he threw a huge pall of black velvet. 
 When the undertaker had prepared every thing, he went 
 away, and there stood the bier in the centre of the room. 
 
 Fieramosca never had any idea for whom that dismal 
 article was destined, and if the suspicion had entered his 
 mind, he would have banished it as a foolish thought ; still 
 he could not take his eyes from it during the whole ser- 
 vice. His thoughts were naturally bent on the probabil- 
 ity that it might be the last day of his life, and he turned 
 his heart with renewed fervor to beg pardon of the Lord 
 for the sins of his life. He passed under review the 
 whole length of time from the night he had rescued Gi- 
 nevra in Santa Cecilia ; and he felt reproached only be- 
 cause he had not told her that Graiano was alive. How- 
 ever of this sin, as well as of all others, he had been 
 shriven the night previous. He felt great ease and calm- 
 ness in his heart, and he felt that he could meet death 
 without fear. 
 
 "When mass was over, the thirteen followed Prospero 
 Colonna to his quarters, where they sat down to break- 
 fast. 
 
 One of the conditions sworn to by the French as well 
 as by the Italian party was, that any man-at-arms who, 
 being made a prisoner, did not wish to follow his con-
 
 318 ETTORE FIEEAMOSCA. 
 
 queror, might be ransomed with arms and horse, by the 
 disbursement of a hundred ducats. Every one of the 
 Italian champions deposited the sum in the hands of Sig- 
 nor Prospero ; and the thirteen hundred ducats were 
 placed on the sumpter mules, which were sent in advance 
 to the field with refreshments and equipage that might 
 be wanted. 
 
 Breakfast being over, the champions went to the cita- 
 del, where the great Captian was waiting for them in the 
 dancing hall. They took leave of him with few words 
 and a serene countenance. And he dismissed them, in- 
 viting them to be at supper with him, remarking that he 
 would have the tables ready for twenty-six persons, so 
 that if the French should have forgotten to carry with 
 them the ransom price, they should not be obliged to 
 go to bed with empty stomachs. 
 
 Then they descended into the yard, where the horses 
 were held in readiness by their attendants, and, two 
 abreast, began their march, the band preceding them, 
 and followed by their friends and a crowd of idle specta- 
 tors.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 AT an equal distance from. Barletta and the French 
 camp, the land slopes gently from the foot of the hills 
 down to a level bottom of about one thousand feet square, 
 surrounded by swelling mounds, most probably of alluvial 
 formation. The ground is formed of small gravel and 
 silicious sand, entirely free from weeds and shrubs, and 
 affords a solid and sure tread to the horse's foot. Such 
 was the place chosen for the combat. On the day previ- 
 ous, men had been dispatched there to level the inequali- 
 ties of the surface. The bounds were set by a trench 
 and large stones placed all around. On the brow of a 
 hill which commanded a view of the place, under the 
 shade of immense holms, the stand for the judges was 
 erected, with flags white and vermilion hanging from the 
 branches. Twenty-six lances with the shields of the men- 
 at-arms of the two nations, and their names posted on 
 placards with large letters, were placed in front of this tri- 
 bunal. Curiosity had drawn together an immense throng 
 of Signorotti and peasants from towns and villages all 
 around, and every high place in the environs was taken 
 possession of long before sunrise. Spectators of any note 
 above the rest sat with old folks and women on the green 
 sward ; boys, poor people, and urchins had climbed on the 
 tops of trees, and their faces and garments were strongly 
 contrasted with the green foliage amidst which they were
 
 320 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 perched. It was a beautiful sight especially for those 
 who, situated at one end of the camp, had the inland be- 
 hind them, and looked over the basin of the harbor 
 such a rich rural scene, enlivened by such a crowd with 
 so much stir and life ! On the right the majestic clumps 
 of oaks, the dark hue of their leaves shading with the 
 lively and gay green of smaller wood ; on a plain 
 far beyond the forest stood the town of Quarato, of which 
 only the gates were visible as they were guarded by a 
 tower built on the projection of rocks, at the foot of which 
 the road is winding in its course ; in the centre of the 
 field and beyond the Adriatic shore the city and castle of 
 Barletta, and the colored forms of the buildings standing 
 in bold relief over the blue tint of the waters, farther 
 away still the bridge and island of Sant' Orsola, and the 
 peaks of Gargano, bounded by the line of the horizon ; 
 then at the left the hills gently rising to a great height, 
 and opposite to the judges' stand, on an uneven ground, 
 carpeted with fresh grass, clumps of gigantic oaks, cov- 
 ered with ivy, and in the full vigor of a luxuriant growth. 
 A fog that had been lowering during the night was 
 chased away by the dawn, and floated in the upper re- 
 gions of the atmosphere in clouds of fantastic appearance, 
 reflecting already the golden rays of the rising sun. 
 Broad streaks of more dense fog still remained gracefully 
 poised over the plains, like so many beds of the whitest 
 down, and surmounted here and there by clumps of 
 taller trees and hill-tops. An orange tint was diffused 
 from the solar disk not yet emerged from the sea, stilling 
 the terrestrial objects in silent quietude, as they were 
 illumined only by the reflection of the atmosphere. The 
 spectator's eye was drawn almost unconsciously toward 
 the place of the rising sun. On the farthest limit of the
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. -821 
 
 sea, a spark of the most brilliant light seemed to be 
 ignited ; it increased, it took a determined form, and the 
 sun in its majesty like a globe of fire arose, expanding its 
 rays, giving shape and color to the objects, and doubled 
 by reflection from the waters. 
 
 A squad of soldiers on foot, placed here at a very 
 early hour, kept the ground free from the people who 
 had gathered in groups all around, and were crowding 
 more densely in the neighborhood where venders of 
 refreshments and wine had pitched their tents and placed 
 seats and tables. Among the rest the reader might 
 recognize Venom, the keeper of the tavern of The Sun, 
 who had already fixed his ambulatory establishment in 
 one of the most conspicuous spots, under a temporary 
 arbor, to which many of the soldiers, his regular custom- 
 ers, had already resorted. He had two or three large 
 frying-pans, heated on portable iron stoves ; a table made 
 of rough boards joined together, and supported by short 
 poles driven in the ground which stood in the place 
 of legs, was crowded with huge baskets filled with fish, 
 artichokes, and every kind of vegetable. There he was, 
 with two aprons and a white cap, all fresh from the 
 laundry, with his shirt sleeves tucked up to the shoulder, 
 holding under his left arm a long-handed pipkin, filled 
 with flour, for the purpose of frying, and in one hand a 
 plate with raw fish, in the other the pinchers to take 
 hold of it. He was all in a bustle to prepare that dish 
 so much liked by the southern people of Italy. He 
 never stopped the jabber of his tongue. He laughed, 
 put and answered questions, all in one breath ; and only 
 now and then he broke the conversation either to sing 
 La Bella Franceschina, or to halloo at the top of his 
 voice : " O ! what sardines ! What sardines ! O ! 
 14*
 
 322 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 The mullets are alive ! Have you no eyes, or have 
 you no money ! " and the like urging appeals, which 
 were heard at half a mile's distance. At last, a noise 
 from those who were more elevated made all heads look 
 in that direction, and the news passed around that the 
 French champions were in sight. In a few minutes they 
 appeared on a turn of the road, which led from behind 
 a hill. They soon reached the enclosure, and entering 
 the lists, arranged themselves in a file on the superior 
 part of the camp, with their faces turned towards the 
 sea. The warriors, and some one hundred companions 
 and friends who had joined the train, dismounted, leaving 
 the horses with their squires and grooms. Then they 
 went up to the judges' stand, and loitered away under 
 the holms, waiting for the arrival of the Italians. These 
 were heralded by a whirlwind of dust which arose on 
 the road from Barletta, from the midst of which, how- 
 ever, the flash of their arms could be seen. Indeed, it 
 was not their intention to keep their antagonists long wait- 
 ing. The crowds which up to this time had been roam- 
 ing about began to draw near the palisade, contending 
 for the most advanced places, although the soldiers on 
 guard forced the swelling crowd back, with such persua- 
 sive arguments as on such occasions are at the command 
 of the soldiery in the form of the handles of their 
 pickaxes, or of the butts of their halberds, not so very 
 gently laid down on the ground, and occasionally on the 
 spectator's toe. The Italian champions halted opposite 
 their opponents in the same order as the French had 
 done before, and having dismounted, repaired also to the 
 eminence shaded by the holms. After a mutual greeting 
 and the usual courtesies, Signor Prospero and Bayard, 
 who were the sponsors, met in close interview, and
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 323 
 
 resolved that before all it was necessary to draw the 
 lots of those who were to be the judges. I am sure the 
 reader will wonder how it was that such a brave knight 
 as Bayard, instead of being one of the combatants on an 
 occasion of so much importance, appeared in the office 
 of sponsor. Well then, I will tell him that I am not the 
 less astonished myself, and I cannot guess at any other 
 reason but that, perhaps, he was suffering from some 
 wound not yet healed, or that he was prevented by the 
 quartana, under an attack of wWch he was laboring at 
 that time, and had weakened him, at all events we are 
 sure that he was not one of the champions. 
 
 Having then written the names of a few Spanish, 
 French, and Italian Caporali, of both armies in equal 
 numbers, they rolled up the briefs, and placed them in 
 a helmet to be tossed. The lot fell on Fabrizio, Colonna, 
 Obigni, and Diego Garcia de Paredes, who immediately 
 took the seats set apart for them, opened on the table the 
 books of the Evangelists, and administered the oath to 
 the twenty-six champions. They pledged themselves 
 not to use any fraud in the combat ; swore that they had 
 no charms on their bodies or on their arms, and that they 
 would meet the chances of the fight trusting only their 
 own skill and natural strength. The conditions were 
 then read again by a herald ; it was agreed that every 
 man could ransom himself, his arms, and his horse by 
 the payment of one hundred ducats. One of the Italians 
 then emptied on the table the money they had carried, 
 counted it, and gave it in trst to the judges. It was 
 then thought that the French would do the same ; but as 
 they did not move, Prospero Colonna, as gently as he 
 could, remarked, " And your money, gentlemen ? " 
 La Motte came forward and answered, with a smile :
 
 324 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 " Signer Prospero, you will see that we have enough 
 here." This impertinent boast made the blood rush to 
 the face of the Roman baron ; but he restrained himself, 
 and only remarked : " Better to kill the bear before 
 you sell the skin. But no matter ; though it was mutu- 
 ally agreed that the ransom was to be deposited before- 
 hand, we will not allow even this to be any hindrance to 
 the battle. Gentlemen," he added, addressing his men, 
 " did you hear ? This knight looks upon the affair as 
 settled. It is but fit Ifcat you should convince him of 
 his mistake." We deem it useless to remark that these 
 contemptuous manners made the blood boil very hot in 
 the veins of the Italians, but they gave no other answer 
 to either Signer Prospero or La Motte than a revengeful 
 scowl and a look of defiance. 
 
 These preliminaries being arranged, the judges dis- 
 missed the champions, and half an hour was given them 
 to get ready. A corneter on horseback, posted under the 
 holms, would give three blasts, the signal of the onset. 
 
 They returned to their horses and mounted them. The 
 sponsors placed them at four feet from each other, and 
 both Colonna and Bayard again examined the bits, the 
 saddle-girts, the straps and buckles of the armor; and 
 theirs were the best experienced eyes of the two armie-. 
 
 The review being over, Signer Prospero halted his 
 horse in the middle before the line of his party, and with 
 a loud voice said : " Gentlemen, do not expect me to en- 
 courage you to meet the struggle in a manner worthy of 
 you. I see Lombards, Neapolitans, Romans, Sicilians in 
 your midst. Are you not all sons of one Italy ? AVill 
 not the honor of the victory be awarded equally to you 
 all ? Are you not here before foreigners who brand you 
 Italians as cowards ? Only one word will I speak : see
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 325 
 
 yonder the infamous traitor, Graiano d'Asti ? He conies 
 to the battle field to fasten infamy on the brow of his 
 brethren ! Understand me ! let him not leave the field 
 alive ! " 
 
 Fieramosca whispered to Brancaleone who stood by 
 him : " Were I not under oath ! " And Brancaleone an- 
 swered : " Leave it to me ! I have no vows. I know the 
 vulnerable spot of his body ! " 
 
 Brancaleone, from the day he had listened to the adven- 
 tures of his friend, had a great desire to kill Graiano, 
 and thereby to sweep from his way the only obstacle to 
 his union with Ginevra. Then knowing that he was to 
 be one of the Italian champions, he saw an opportunity 
 for satisfying his wishes. 
 
 Our reader remembers what information he had ob- 
 tained the day of the tournament, when Graiano was get- 
 ting ready near the amphitheatre. But now the unex- 
 pected end of Ginevra had blasted his former hopes. 
 However, he had not given up the idea, and the desire to 
 carry it out was greatly enhanced by the words of Signor 
 Prospero, to whom, as to the head of the Colonna party, 
 he exhibited a blind obedience in every thing. 
 
 By this time the sponsors had withdrawn to their 
 places : Bayard near the judges and Colonna under the 
 holms. The latter was mounted on a black horse, housed 
 in vermilion cloth embroidered with gold ; he was armed 
 at all points except at the head, which he held up before 
 his men, full of majesty and boldness, quietly waiting the 
 signal of the battle. He had at his side his page, a 
 handsome youth of sixteen, in a dress of sky-blue, and 
 carmine hose ; he had, besides, several military attend- 
 ants in different capacities, who, although motionless as 
 statues, still betrayed souls fired with energetic and mar-
 
 326 ETTOKE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 tial spirit. As the time advanced, the talking became 
 fainter and less frequent ; only a broken word was now 
 and then uttered in a whisper. 
 
 The assemblage presented a solemn and grave appear- 
 ance in its stillness, interrupted only now and then by the 
 restless pawing and neighing of the horses, which, hav- 
 ing been long kept at rest and highly fed, now could be 
 scarcely held within the line, and champed the long 
 golden bits, bespattered them with froth, and arched their 
 necks and tails ; they reared, snorted, and puffed with 
 expanded and bloodshot nostrils, and their eyes flashed 
 like fire. 
 
 Jt is not so very easy to form an adequate idea of the 
 martial appearance of a man-at-arms of those days, as 
 both he and his war-horse were accoutred in iron from 
 head to foot. The knight with clasped visor, sheathed in 
 his armor, with a shield on his breast and a lance on the 
 thigh, bestrode a saddle with high bolsters in front and 
 behind, like two guards, from which it was almost impos- 
 sible to fall ; thus encased, and setting his knees firm and 
 close, he adhered to his steed so that the horse's move- 
 ments were communicated to the rider, just as we imagine 
 it should be in the double nature of a Centaur. The 
 horse had the front and sides of his head protected by an 
 iron headpiece, in which only two openings were left for 
 the eyes ; an iron spike projected from the middle of the 
 front ; the neck, shoulders, and breast covered likewise 
 with small plates lapping over one another like ecale<. a > 
 interwoven as to allow a free movement to the limb? ; 
 lastly, an armor of like texture covered the crupper, 
 haunches, and sides of the steed, leaving only an opening 
 for the playing of the spurs. Thus the handsome feat- 
 ures of the noble animals were so disfigured by that
 
 ETTOKE FIKKAMOSCA. 327 
 
 cumbrous war furniture as to make them resemble, from 
 the legs upward, a herd of rhinoceroses. To look at 
 them as they stood, you would think they could not move, 
 and much less run ; but the least twitch of the bridle or 
 a touch from the rider's heel, found them as ready and 
 supple as if they had no encumbrance of armor, so in- 
 geniously were the plates put together. 
 
 A steel mace and a pickaxe hanging on one side of 
 the saddle, together with the lance, sword, and poniard 
 which every knight carried on his person, completed their 
 arms. The Italians were famous in the use of the mace 
 and axe. In ornamenting themselves they followed their 
 own pleasure or caprice ; the helmets were generally 
 decked with a cluster of plumes surmounted by a tall 
 feather from the tail of a peacock. Some, instead of 
 feathers, had jagged lists of silk, called in French lam- 
 brequins. Some wore cloaks and some shoulder-belts, 
 and those who had argior of fine workmanship and 
 rich, left it uncovered. Even the horses had on their 
 heads plumes or other ornaments, and the reins were 
 sometimes of a span's width, made with festoons and of 
 gaudy colors ; the cost and the materials of the reins 
 alone were often of great value. On the shields, besides 
 the knight's own coat-of-arms, the Italians bore mottoes 
 befitting the occasion, as, for instance, that of Fieramos- 
 ca Quid possit pateat saltern nunc liala virtw. 
 
 At last the herald advanced to the centre of the camp, 
 and loudly proclaimed that none should dare by word, cry 
 or action to favor or interfere with either party ; then as 
 he had regained the judges' stand, the trumpet gave the 
 first sound then the second . . . you might have heard 
 the flapping of a fly's wing . . . then the third ; and the 
 knights simultaneously slackening the reins, bending over
 
 328 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 the horses' necks, setting spurs to their flanks so violently 
 as to lift them from the ground, started out against their 
 opponents, bounding at first, then galloping at full speed ; 
 one band shouting " Viva f Italia" and the other " Vive 
 la France," the yell reechoing from the sea. 
 
 The space between the two parties was about four hun- 
 dred feet. The dust began to rise slowly, it increased, it 
 became more dense, and covered them ere they met ; and 
 thus enveloped as if in a cloud, they dashed against one 
 another, their horses clashing with each other's fronts, 
 the knights shivering their lances against the shields and 
 cuirasses of their adversaries, with a shock not unlike 
 that of a huge mass of rocks, which falling down a de- 
 clivity meets no obstacle at first, but all of a sudden strikes 
 upon a forest of trees, breaks its way through them, and 
 tears, uproots, destroys every thing in its way. The 
 spectators could not witness the first onset ; in that 
 confused and dusty mass of men and horses, they could 
 scarcely distinguish the flash of the arms reflecting the 
 sun, and the plumage torn by the fury of the sword, fly- 
 ing about in that tumult, and wafted away by the breath 
 of the wind. The clash of arms reechoed from the 
 valley around. Diego Garcia, admiring those brave and 
 manly deeds and mad with disappointment for not be- 
 ing in the melee himself, struck the thigh with his fist ; 
 and this was the only movement to be noticed among the 
 astonished and silent spectators. 
 
 The warriors remained thus mixed up for a few seconds, 
 when a narrower streak of glare, now and then reflected 
 from their midst and flashing through the dust, showed 
 pretty clearly that the warriors were engaged with swords ; 
 and that rattling of arms, that incessant hammering, re- 
 sembled the noise of men working on a score of anvils.
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 329 
 
 Like an artificial fire veiled in part by smoke, that mass 
 was glittering and quivering with a spai'kling light, so 
 rapid were the movements according as it swayed one 
 side or the other, opened or closed, or wheeled around in 
 complicated evolutions. 
 
 The anxiety to find out to whom belonged the honor 
 of victory had become so intense, that it seemed almost 
 out of the question for the people to contain themselves 
 any longer. Already a swelling whispering could be 
 heard, but it was speedily suppressed by signs from the 
 heralds, as well as by the sight of a horse rushing madly 
 out of the melee, and so thickly covered with dust as to hide 
 the color of the saddle entirely ; running over the field in 
 half gallop, he dragged the torn bridle between his hoofs, 
 and trampling on it, now with one foot and then with the 
 other, he checked himself miserably, giving violent jerks 
 to his head, right and left, in continual danger of falling. 
 A stream of dark blood gushed from a large wound over 
 his shoulder, and trailed an ensanguined track on the 
 ground ; after a few bounds he fell on his knees exhausted 
 and rolled over on the dust. Every one recognized him 
 as belonging to the French party. 
 
 The champions in the meantime had formed into pairs 
 and fought with swords ; thus arranged by twos, they 
 struck and parried with great address, incessantly wheeled 
 around to take their aim, and thereby more room was 
 given to the struggle which at first had been so close ; 
 and the dust, dispelled by the wind, hid the combatants no 
 more. Then every one saw that the unhorsed knight 
 was Martellin de Lambris. The Frenchman, unluckily 
 for him, had been singled out by Fanfulla, who with his 
 fuiy so mad, and yet so skilful and so sure in its aim, hit 
 the knight on the visor, holding the lance to the bars so
 
 330 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 as to push him backward the whole length of it, and sent 
 him to feel how soft the ground was ; and as he hit the 
 masterly blow shouted with a voice that drowned all the 
 noise around : " There goes one ! " and then turning 
 to La Motte, who by a thrust from Fieramosca had lost one 
 stirrup, he continued in the same tone : " The money 
 will not be enough . . . the money isn't enough. ..." 
 AV^hen the crowd had become thinned, he said to the 
 vanquished Frenchman : " Thou art my prisoner . . . ! " 
 but the man rose on his feet, and his only reply was a 
 thrust, which scratched the polished armor of the hero 
 from Lodi. To lift his sword with both his hands and 
 bestow a blow with it on the helmet of his foe, was but 
 the work of a moment. Lambris was already shattered 
 by the fall, and could hardly keep on his feet ; and Fan- 
 fulla laid another blow on him, and another, and another, 
 every time yelling : " the money is not enough . . . not 
 enough . . . not enough . . . ; " and the effort of the 
 blow made him utter the words with that sort of appog- 
 giatura which we hear issuing from the lungs of a wood- 
 cutter swinging his axe and lodging it on the block he is 
 chopping. 
 
 That champion could never regain his standing under 
 those blows laid on him with so much power ; he fell 
 upon the ground almost senseless, but he would not ask 
 quarter ; so Fanfulla becoming enraged, gave the last cut, 
 just as the Frenchman endeavored to rest on his knee, 
 and laid him flat on the earth, saying, 
 
 " Will that do ? " 
 
 Bayard seeing that the soldier would have been killed 
 to no purpose, dispatched a king-at-arms, who crossed his 
 mace betwixt the two combatants, and loudly exclaimed : 
 " Martellin de Lambris prisonnier" Some of the pur-
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 331 
 
 suivants ran to help him up, and supported by them he 
 was led to Signer Prospero's presence. 
 
 " God bless thy arms ! " he shouted to the conqueror ; 
 then he directed some of his squires to take under guard 
 the French baron, who however would not allow himself 
 to be unhelmeted, but threw himself under an oak where 
 he laid silent and motionless. 
 
 Fanfulla wheeled his horse around, spurred him at 
 half gallop towards the battle, and was looking all around 
 for something to do ; and meanwhile, as if to amuse him- 
 self, he flourished his sword with every kind of bold and 
 fantastic movement, in which sort of exercise he was 
 held to be the most skilful and quickest hand in the army. 
 From a general survey of the ground, he at once per- 
 ceived that fortune was not on the enemy's side, and that 
 the Italian men-at-arms were doing their duty well. 
 Then raising his voice higher than ever, he called out 
 La Motte's name, and struck again the old key : " the 
 money isn't enough," which he sang to the tune of a very 
 popular air sung then by blind people in the streets. 
 And what with the careless and buffoonlike way he 
 had of riding, the admirable flourishes, carried on as 
 it were for self-amusement, and the tone of his voice, 
 his mimicry had such an air of frolic grotesqueness that 
 even the stern countenance of Signer Prospero relaxed 
 into a smile. 
 
 While this first victory was being achieved, Ettore 
 Fieramosca had with his lance made La Motte lose one 
 stirrup, but had not been able as yet to unhorse him. 
 La Motte was far superior to Fanfulla's prisoner in 
 strength and address. Fieramosca, feeling jealous of the 
 honor reaped by his brother, began to work with his 
 sword so that the despiser of the Italians, with all his
 
 332 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 skill, could scarcely hold against him. Fieramosca at 
 that moment remembered the galling insult offered by La 
 Motte at the supper, when he said that a Frenchman 
 would not deign to hire an Italian to do a boy's work 
 in a stable ; and while he was showering his thrusts and 
 cuts, unnailing and rending the enemy's armor, and at 
 times wounding him, he repeated with a sneer : 
 
 " At least we can handle the currycomb ? help thyself, 
 help thyself; here deeds are needed, not words." 
 
 The Frenchman, stung by the galling taunt, aimed a 
 blow at the head of his antagonist with so much force, 
 that Ettore, not being in time to cover himself with the 
 shield, tried to parry it with the sword ; but the weapon 
 was not stout enough, it broke into shivers, and the 
 Frenchman's blow fell on his neck, severing the collar 
 of the breastplate, and inflicting a wound a little above 
 the collar-bone. Fieramosca did not wait to give him 
 another chance ; but stooping a little, and passing his 
 arms around the champion's waist, strove to drag him 
 down ; but the Frenchman let the sword go, and struggled 
 to free himself. It was just what Ettore wished him to 
 do ; he let go his hold, and before La Motte had time to 
 grasp the sword again, he spurred his horse, making him 
 dart one side, and thus having a chance to snatch the 
 mace that hung from the saddle, he fell with it upon his 
 adversary again. 
 
 The good horse of Fieramosca had been trained to 
 every kind of manoeuvre ; and now warned by a light 
 twitch of the bridle and a touch of the spur, he rose on 
 his hind legs, arching his back like a ram that wishes to 
 butt, and bounded forward, only so far, however, as to 
 place the opponent within his master's reach. Noticing 
 how skilfully the" steed managed his part, Fieramosca
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 333 
 
 thought : I have done well indeed to take thee along ! 
 and he used the mace with so much skill that he fairly 
 gained over his antagonist the advantage he had lost. 
 
 The honor of the battle, if not the decisive victory 
 even, might have been decided by the struggle of these 
 two champions, who were looked upon as the best swords 
 of the two armies. It would have covered La Motto 
 with double shame, as he had expressed so much con- 
 tempt for the Italians, and it would have crowned Fiera- 
 mosca with double glory. His companions, well satisfied 
 that he was a good match for the Frenchman, took par- 
 ticular care not to interfere ; and the Frenchmen very 
 carefully avoided to lend any help to their champion, 
 that it should not be said that, after so much boasting, 
 even one Italian should be too much for him. Even 
 moi*e, as by a common impulse and almost unconsciously, 
 both parties suspended their fighting for a few minutes, 
 and looked with amazement on the two champions. But 
 they, spurred by such thoughts as we have just mentioned, 
 were mad with a desire of victory, and fought so furi- 
 ously, always on the alert against mishaps, ever ready to 
 catch opportunities, that their encounter might indeed be 
 called a model of knightly art. 
 
 Diego Garcia de Paredes, who had been a soldier his 
 whole life, was amazed at the great skill displayed in that 
 conflict, and unable to control himself any longer, had 
 risen ; then advancing to the edge of the bluff, which 
 overlooked the lists, he watched them with an intense 
 eagerness. Seen from afar, as he stood with that gigantic 
 trunk set on two herculean legs, and his arms carelessly 
 hanging down, he seemed a motionless statue ; however, 
 those who were near him well knew how disappointed he 
 felt with his situation of a mere spectator, as the contrac-
 
 334 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 tion of his muscles so perceptible under the close fitting 
 skin garment, the clenched fist, and above all the flashing 
 eye, betrayed the emotions of his soul. 
 
 Fanfulla, having left Signer Prospero, was galloping 
 over the lists, and seemed not at all governed by those 
 considerations and motives which animated the other 
 champions. He spurred his horse, and came upon La 
 Motte with uplifted sword. Ettore saw it, and cried 
 avaunt ! but, as the command was unheeded, he dashed 
 his horse athwart against that of the Lodigian, and with 
 the butt of his mace bestowed a blow on his breast, 
 which made him rein up abruptly and against his will. 
 
 " I am a match for him, and even more," added Ettore, 
 in a passion of anger. 
 
 Ettore's courtesy towards La Motte won him the praise 
 of all, except Fanfulla, who, breaking out with one of 
 those Italian exclamations which cannot be expressed in 
 writing, rejoined, half joking, half angry : 
 
 " Thy tongue is in thy hands ! " 
 
 He gave the horse a demivolt, and madly dashing 
 amongst the adversaries, be broke their ranks, without, 
 however, assailing any one in particular ; thus, that 
 momentary lull being broken up, the fighting was re- 
 sumed more furiously than ever. 
 
 From the onset, Brancaleone had singled for his antag- 
 onist Graiano d'Asti, and the chances had as yet been 
 even. The lances being broken, they fought with swords, 
 and still neither party had any decisive advantage. Bran- 
 caleone was perhaps superior to Graiano in strength, and 
 even in dexterity ; but the Piedmontese champion was 
 superior to all in knowing the advantage of rapid move- 
 ment ; and those who are acquainted with the art of fenc- 
 ing can value this quality.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 335 
 
 The tide of battle flowed equally between the other 
 champions, as either of the parties prevailed. Al- 
 though the contest had lasted only about one hour and 
 a half, it had, however, been so obstinate and fierce, that 
 it was evident that both men and horses needed some 
 rest ; and accordingly the judges granted it of common 
 accord. The trumpet sounded the signal, and the kings- 
 at-arms crossed their lances betwixt the combatants and 
 separated them. 
 
 A murmur arose among the crowd around the lists, not 
 unlike that which we hear in a theatre when the curtain 
 falls after a representation which has riveted the atten- 
 tion of a large audience. The champions retreated to 
 the two extremities and alighted ; some removed their 
 helmets to cool their brows and wipe off the perspira- 
 tion ; some finding parts of their armor or of the accou- 
 trements of their horses damaged, contrived to mend 
 them. The steeds, shaking their manes, and grinding 
 their jawbones, sought relief from the pain occasioned 
 by the pulling of the bridles. Feeling the burden of the 
 knights no more on their backs, they planted themselves 
 on their forefeet, and with lowered heads they shook 
 their limbs several times, making the armor ring. 
 
 But the venders of fruit and refreshments having fresh 
 lungs, sang out louder and louder the praises of their 
 goods ; and the two sponsors, spurring their horses, ad- 
 vanced to greet their champions. 
 
 The honor of the day was thus far awarded to the 
 Italians, as one of the opposite party had been made 
 prisoner, and the rest of the French champions had been 
 either wounded or badly used. Among those who had 
 staked on the success of either party, such as stood 
 pledged for the French began to feel considerably
 
 ETTOBE FIEBAMC- 
 
 damped and dispirited. The good Bayard was too ex- 
 perienced a champion of the lists not to feel that the 
 fortune of the field was likely to be adverse to his party. 
 With a stout countenance, however, and betraying not 
 the least fear, he encouraged them, arranged them in 
 their ranks, and reminded them of the general arts of a 
 contest, how to strike and how to parry. 
 
 Prospero Colonna saw that his men were not so much 
 in need of rest, as they had not been so much strained as 
 the opposite party ; and, therefore, after half an hour of 
 respite, he requested that the champions should resume 
 the battle. Accordingly, the marshals gave the signal. 
 The horses were still panting from the previous struggle ; 
 but the warriors dashed the spurs into their flanks, and 
 off the animals rushed against each other. It seemed as 
 if victory might be decided in a few moments ; the silence 
 was deadly ; the spectators were motionless ; the excite- 
 ment and fury of the combatants had reached the high- 
 est pitch. The gay mantles, the plumage, and all kinds 
 of ornaments flew shattered in atoms, or were stained 
 with blood or dust. The blue scarf of Fieramosca was 
 seen banging from his side cut in twain by a blow from 
 a sword ; his helmet was shorn of its plumes, and flat- 
 tened, but he was still fresh and strong, having only a 
 slight wound on his neck, and be bore down upon La 
 Motte with renewed animosity. Fanfulla was measuring 
 his strength with Jacques de Guignes. Brancaleone was 
 again engaged with Graiano, always aiming at the hel- 
 met, while the rest in the Italian ranks were fighting 
 -the other French champions, and belaboring them most 
 obstinately. 
 
 A sudden shout from the spectators turned the atten- 
 tion even of the combatants to the straggle between Bran-
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 337 
 
 caleone and Graiano ; it was now ended. The latter was 
 bent over the horse, with both helmet and skull cleft, 
 the blood streaming over his armor, and over the shoul- 
 ders and legs of the horse, whose every step was marked 
 in gore. At last he rolled over, and his fall sounded 
 like the crash of a heap of old iron dashed on the ground. 
 Brancaleone uplifted the bleeding battle-axe, whirled it 
 over his head, and exclaimed in a manly and terrible 
 voice ; 
 
 '' Viva F Italia ! and so be it ever with accursed trai- 
 tors." Thus emboldened, he dashed into the thick of the 
 battle where the French soldiers were defending them- 
 selves desperately, bestowing blows with both hands right 
 and left. But the struggle did not last long. Graiano's fall 
 seemed to have turned the scale in favor of the Italians. 
 Fieramosca, almost frantic with anger at the long and 
 obstinate defence of La Motte, doubled the strength of 
 his blows with so much rapidity, that he bewildered and 
 stunned his antagonist. The Frenchman had lost his 
 buckler, had only a broken sword to defend himself with, 
 and his armor was unhinged, disconnected, and shattered. 
 At last Ettore bestowed on his neck a blow with the 
 battle-axe, so powerful that La Motte reeled over the 
 bolsters of the saddle, and for a moment lost his eyesight. 
 
 Before he had time to recover, Fieramosca. who was 
 at his right, swung the shield behind his shoulders, 
 grasped with the left hand the thongs which fastened La 
 Motte's breast plate, and pressing his knees, dashed the 
 spurs into the flanks of the horse. The animal plunged 
 forward, and thus the French knight was violently dragged 
 from the saddle. As he lay on the ground, Ettore sprang 
 from his horse, and stood over him with unsheathed dag- 
 ger; then pointing it so near his forehead as almost to 
 
 15
 
 338 ETTORE F1ERAMOSCA. 
 
 touch him, commanded him in a voice of thunder : " yield 
 thyself, or I'll finish thee." The baron, still half uncon- 
 scious, answered not ; that silence might have cost him his 
 life, had not Bayard interfered and declared him prisoner. 
 
 After La Motte had been removed by his attendants, 
 and led before Signer Prospero, Fieramosca turned to 
 regain his horse; but it had disappeared; and looking 
 around he saw Giraud de Forses, one of the enemy's 
 band, who having had his horse killed under him, had 
 taken that of the Italian, and was still fighting. Good 
 Ettore felt that alone and on foot he could never recover 
 his horse. But he had nursed and reared him with his 
 own hands, and he was trained to obey and follow his 
 master's call ; endeavoring then to go as near to the horse 
 as possible, he began to call his name, at the same time 
 striking his foot on the ground as he was wont to do when 
 he went to give him oats. The animal recognized the call, 
 and turned to see whence it came ; but the rider opposed 
 its movements, and the horse began to rear, and then to 
 plunge, and then to bound, so that the rider could not con- 
 trol him, and he was forced in spite of himself to go over 
 to the camp of the Italians, who made a prisoner of him 
 without any blow from their swords. The Frenchman 
 dismounted, cursing his evil luck, and Fieramosca leaped 
 on his favorite steed ; but holding by the point the sword 
 which had been taken from the French knight, returned 
 it to him, saying : 
 
 " God help thee, brother ; take thine arms and go with 
 thine, because we take our prisoners by dint of battle, 
 not by the arts of tricksters." 
 
 The Frenchman was taken by surprise, as he had no 
 hope whatever of such quarter. After one moment's 
 pause, he replied :
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 339 
 
 " If I do not avow myself conquered by your arms, I 
 am vanquished by your courtesy ; " and taking the sword 
 at half blade, he went to lay it at the feet of Signor 
 Prospero ; and it was remarked by all who praised Fie- 
 ramosca's courtesy, that the Frenchman also had acted 
 like a noble knight and true. And for this reason he was 
 not made to pay any ransom afterwards. 
 
 The French ranks had lost four of their best lances, 
 while the thirteen Italians were all still mounted. It was 
 easy to foresee with whom the honor of the day would 
 remain. Nevertheless the Frenchmen, who had been 
 unhorsed (they were five) closed together, and having 
 at their flanks the four knights on horseback, two on 
 each side, prepared themselves in that attitude to offer 
 resistance to the Italians again. The latter rallied for 
 the third time for an attack made by all simultaneously. 
 
 Not one among the spectators had the least thought or 
 expectation that the French party could stand the shock ; 
 but still admiring the perseverance and address of those 
 brave knights, their curiosity was shai-pened into anxiety 
 to see the result of their last movement ; and some even 
 wished that so much valor should not be perilled against 
 such odds, to the imminent risk of their lives. But the 
 French seemed not to have any fear of that ; trodden 
 under foot, wounded, covered with dust and blood, they 
 still offered a fearful and honorable sight as they boldly 
 stood there prepared to be crushed by so many horses 
 which came dashing upon them, and seemed deter- 
 mined to grind them to atoms. At last the Italians 
 started, but not with the former speed ; the horses were 
 too tired, and some of them had their mouths covered 
 with foam and blood from the too violent pulling of the 
 bridles. The knights shouted louder than ever, Viva
 
 340 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 I 'Italia ! and in spite of the spurs the horses galloped only 
 heavily, and with some reluctance. Notwithstanding the 
 rules made known at the beginning, the anxious curiosity 
 of the spectators was raised to so high a pitch, that the 
 boundary set at first for the spectators was broken, and 
 the circle became narrower every moment. The pur- 
 suivants and squires who were charged with the duty of 
 preserving order, forgot every thing else, and were led 
 by curiosity to advance with the crowd in their concentric 
 movement. Thus we have often seen in the public streets, 
 when a bull has broken loose, the people at first keep at 
 a safe distance, but if a dog takes hold of an ear, and an- 
 other has indented its teeth into its hide, and the beast is 
 almost brought to a stand, all leave their places, the 
 shouts are louder, the tumult is greater, every thing is in 
 confusion, since every one pushes forward to have a better 
 view. 
 
 Fieramosca, who had the best horse, rode in the centre 
 of the new ranks ; and he was flanked on both sides 
 by his companions who were ranged according to the 
 greater power of their horses, those who had better 
 or swifter horses being nearer to his person. Thus they 
 approached the enemy, their body having the shape of a 
 cone, the apex of which was Fieramosca. Their closely 
 serried onset was so directed that when they arrived 
 within arm's length, they broke through the ranks of the 
 French, who were unable to withstand the shock. But 
 here a new struggle began, more close, more terrible than 
 the former ones. The numbers, the valor, the skill of 
 the Italians were met by efforts almost superhuman, by 
 the struggles of despair, by the fury arising from the 
 consciousness of a dishonor imminent and inevitable. The 
 valiant and unfortunate Frenchmen, in a cloud of dust,
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 341 
 
 were falling bleeding under the hoofs of the horses, and 
 made efforts to rise, grasping the stirrups of the knights, 
 the bridles of the conquerors ; and then they fell again, 
 pushed, thrust down, trampled upon, rolling over and 
 over, all weapons lost, their armor shattered and falling 
 to pieces, and still ever endeavoring to rise again, to re- 
 cover their stand, snatching from the ground broken 
 swords, stumps of lances, and even stones to ward off 
 their discomfit. 
 
 Ettore above the rest, with a loud voice entreated them 
 to give up and to surrender themselves ; but in that up- 
 roar he was scarcely heard ; or if they heard him, they 
 dumbly refused compliance, enduring with a stubborn pa- 
 tience those horrible blows ; and with the madness of 
 despair they continued their admirable defence. Of the 
 four who were on their saddles at the beginning of this 
 last encounter, one had been unhorsed, and was fighting 
 on foot, two had their horses killed under them, the 
 fourth had been surrounded and made prisoner. It is 
 not in our power to convey an idea of all the strange 
 complications of the fight, of the desperate acts which 
 were done in those last moments, the recollection of 
 which long remained in the minds of the spectators with 
 mingled feelings of horror and wonder. 
 
 To give an instance, De Liaye was seen grasping with 
 both hands the bit of Capoccio Romano, endeavoring to 
 tear away the bridle ; the horse threw him under his legs 
 and trode on him, but the Frenchman would never let 
 go his hold, and being thus dragged across the lists, was 
 presented to Signer Prospero in that plight ; and even 
 then it took a great deal of labor, and many arms (so 
 frantic was he) to make him loose his hands, and to place 
 him-among the prisoners. At last the Italians themselves
 
 342 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 felt as if it would be too cruel to pursue that kind of 
 warfare ; all joined in shouting with Fieramosca, and for- 
 bearing to strike any more, cried to those who had been 
 left in the French ranks : prisoners . . . prisoners. . . . 
 Even among the people arose a murmur, and it was 
 swelling up, the remonstrance of the heralds being of no 
 avail ; it broke out into roars, and shouts, and cries that 
 there should be an end to the battle, and that the French 
 should have their lives spared. Every barrier being sur- 
 mounted, the spectators had crowded on the combatants 
 whose lists were reduced to a very narrow compass ; some 
 shouted, some waved their hats and their handkerchiefs, 
 hoping to be able to stop the fight ; and some also appealed 
 to the judges and marshals. Signer Prospero ordering 
 the people to make way, and approaching the champions, 
 raised his voice and his truncheon to make the French- 
 men yield ; even Bayard, albeit he keenly felt the de- 
 feat of his party, convinced that any further resistance 
 would have been useless, and thinking that it would have 
 been an unpardonable sin to waste thus the blood and the 
 lives of those brave men, came forward, and cried to his 
 men to yield, and to give themselves up as prisoners. 
 But neither his voice, nor the entreaties of all the by- 
 standers had any power over the vanquished, who scarcely 
 looked like human beings, but had more the appearance 
 of demons or furies let loose upon earth. At last even 
 the judges descended from their stand ; they mixed with 
 the combatants, ordered the trumpets to sound, and the 
 Italians to be proclaimed conquerors. The latter then 
 endeavored to withdraw, but to no avail ; their adversa- 
 ries, lashed into fury by their rage, grief, and wounds, 
 went on, like so many tigers crushed within the coils of 
 serpents, to harass their enemies as much as possible.
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 343 
 
 Diego Garcia at last, hopeless of seeing an end put to 
 that butchery by the usual laws of the tournament, re- 
 sorted to an expedient of his own, and dashing at Sacet de 
 Jacet, just as he was wrestling with Brancaleone, and 
 pretending to snatch the battle-axe from his hand, while 
 the latter seemed to be debating with himself whether 
 he should bestow upon his head a blow which would have 
 finished him, he seized him by the shoulders, and with 
 wonderful strength dragged him out of the lists in spite of 
 himself. Diego's example was followed by many of the 
 spectators ; in less time than we can say it, they pounced 
 upon the French champions, and although some were se- 
 verely handled, still pushing and pulling, tearing and 
 dragging, after a great deal of exertion they succeeded 
 in taking those five men away from the field ; and not- 
 withstanding they offered a great deal of resistance, and 
 were foaming with rage, they were at last disposed of 
 with the rest under the oak trees. 
 
 Fieramosca's first care, as soon as the last embers of 
 the fight were extinguished, was to leap from his horse 
 and run to Graiano d'Asti, who lay motionless on the 
 place where he had fallen. 
 
 When Brancaleone had given the fatal blow, a sudden 
 feeling of joy sprang up in the generous heart of Fiera- 
 mosca. But that feeling was immediately stifled by a 
 noble and virtuous thought. He approached the fallen 
 knight, and ordering the people to stand apart, he knelt 
 by his side. The blood was still flowing from the gaping 
 wound, but slow and curdled ; he lifted the head very 
 carefully, as if anxious to save the life of a most dear 
 friend, and succeeded in removing the casque. 
 
 But the battle-axe had cleft the skull and inflicted a 
 wound three inches deep ; the knight was dead. Ettore
 
 3*44 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 gave a sigh from his inmost heart ; then laying the head 
 of the slain warrior carefully down again, and rising on 
 his feet, he turned to his brethren in arms, and more par- 
 ticularly addressing Brancaleone, said : 
 
 " This weapon of thine," and he pointed to the battle-axe 
 held in his friend's grasp, still dripping with blood, " has 
 this day accomplished a great justice. But can we enjoy 
 this victory ? is not this earth imbrued with Italian blood ? 
 Ah ! might he not, strong and valiant as he was on the 
 battle field, have shed it to his and our glory against the 
 common enemy ? Then Graiano's tomb would have been 
 honored and glorious ! his memory a monument of pride ! 
 But now there he lies in infamy, and the malediction on 
 the traitor against his country weighs heavy upon him." 
 . . . After these words they all returned in silence to their 
 horses, a deep gloom veiling their countenances. Graia- 
 no's corpse was carried in the evening to Barletta; but 
 when an attempt was made to bury it in consecrated 
 ground, the people, rising in a mass, would not allow it. 
 The corpse bearers carried it to a pass by a torrent at 
 the distance of two miles from the town, dug a trench and 
 buried him. That spot was afterwards called TJie Trai- 
 tor's Pass. 
 
 Signer Prospero, before leaving the camp, turned to 
 Bayard and requested him whether he was ready to pay 
 the ransom. Thus the bravado of La Motte was visited 
 upon Bayard, who made no reply ; and the judges ordered 
 that the prisoners should follow their conquerors to Bar- 
 letta. On foot, silent, covered with shame and confusion, 
 surrounded by an immense throng of people, they were 
 followed by the Italians on their horses, amidst the flour- 
 ishes of the trumpets, and the shouts of the spectators, 
 whose voices made the welkin ring with the cry : Viva 
 V Italia! Viva Colonna!
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 345 
 
 When the thirteen warriors had entered the citadel, 
 and were in the presence of Gonzalo, who received them 
 amidst the elite of his barons, they presented to him the 
 twelve prisoners. The great Captain bestowed a well- 
 merited eulogy on the victors, and then addressed the 
 French knights thus : 
 
 " Be it far from me to offer insult to valorous men 
 in misfortune. The fortune of war lasts but one day, 
 and the conqueror of today may be vanquished on the 
 morrow. It is not for me to teach you that you must 
 henceforward have respect for Italian valor. My words 
 would prove superfluous after the deeds of today. 
 But I will warn you from this day forward to revere and 
 honor valor and courage wherever it may be found ; ever 
 remembering that God has not given it in trust to any 
 one nation exclusively, but has distributed it largely 
 among all men, and that true courage is always en- 
 hanced by modesty, and forever blighted and dishonored 
 by bravado." 
 
 After these words he dismissed them ; they left the 
 hall, and thus ended that glorious and memorable day. 
 
 Let us be sincere. Those who tell or write a story 
 always entertain a little hope that it will prove interest- 
 ing, and that there may always be some one who will 
 listen to it, or read it to the end. We have also nur- 
 tured this hope in a remote corner of our heart ; but 
 it was like the flame of a candle at the mercy of the 
 Avind, flickering all the time, now radiant with bril- 
 liancy, (does our reader smile ?) and then fluttering away 
 into so small dimensions, as to seem almost dying out ; 
 
 15*
 
 346 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 but our own self-love has endeavored to manage so well 
 that it has not yet become extinguished. 
 
 If this selfish and waiy flatterer has not deceived us, 
 if there has actually been some reader endowed with so 
 much patience as to accompany us all the way to this 
 point, we may flatter ourselves that he wishes to know 
 something more about Ettore Fieramosca ; and certainly 
 we shall gratify his curiosity by imparting all the infor- 
 mation we have been able to obtain. 
 
 The conquerors and their prisoners left Gonzalo and 
 repaired to the quarters of the Colonnas, who received 
 them and entertained them most generously, and gave 
 the Frenchmen comfortable lodging for the night. On 
 the morrow, the ransom having been sent from the 
 French camp, they were remanded free, and were es- 
 corted out of the gates of Barletta by many of Gon- 
 zalo's troops, who paid to them those marks of honor 
 which were undoubtedly due to their gallant defence. 
 
 But Fieramosca, after leaving Gonzalo's presence, gave 
 no further thought to the adversaries. At last he could 
 devote all his thoughts to himself and to Ginevra. There- 
 fore he quietly stole away from his companions who were 
 surrounded and feasted by a host of friends, and who 
 in the frenzy of their victory could not pay much atten- 
 tion to his movements. He saw Vittoria Colonna in one 
 of the piazzas. She had been present at the reception 
 given by Gonzalo to the thirteen warriors, and was then 
 returning to her own apartments. He hurried his steps, 
 and calling her name, made her pause and turn back. 
 Vittoria had been informed of the history of Fieramosca, 
 and well she guessed what he wished to know from her. 
 
 " O my God ! what shall I say ? " But she had 
 no time to summon her thoughts, before Ettore was at
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 347 
 
 her side. His armor was stained all over with dust, and 
 it was indented here and there by the blows from the 
 enemy's weapons. Only one plume, and that drooping, 
 was on the helmet ; of the rest only the stumps remained. 
 The lifted visor uncovered his handsome features, hag- 
 gard from the labor of the day, stained by perspiration, 
 and beaming, it is true, with honest pride for the obtained 
 victory ; but at the same time betraying his great anxiety 
 to meet her, whom, at last, after Graiano's death, he 
 might call his own. 
 
 Circumstances always exert great influence over the 
 hopes and fears of a man's heart. The despondency, 
 and I might almost say the despair, which Fieramosca 
 had suffered during the night and the morning before the 
 fight, thinking about the situation of Ginevra, had now, 
 after the shock and protracted labor of the battle, and 
 from the ineffable joy of having merited the honors of 
 the day, given place to a most confident hope that he 
 would find her safe and sound. 
 
 " My lady ! " he said, in a tone of trepidation, caused 
 by the heavy beating of the heart, "may God reward 
 you, and may He bless you. I know all ... how 
 you have received her, and have been so good to the 
 poor thing. . . . Oh ! she needed it . . . ! Lead me 
 to her, let us go to her for God's sake . . ." 
 
 Every word uttered by Ettore went through the heart 
 of Vittoria like a dagger, and she had not the courage 
 to impart the terrible news. On the contrary she put 
 on a smile, and said : 
 
 " Ginevra is again at Sant' Orsola." 
 
 It was too true. She had been carried to the Mon- 
 astery about one hour before the warriors had returned 
 from the lists, and Fra Mariano had accompanied the 
 corpse, for the purpose of burying her during the night.
 
 348 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 "What! in Sant' Orsola? How, so soon? Then 
 she has not been very sick ? She is well, then ? " 
 
 " Yes ! she is well ! " 
 
 In the transport of his joy, Fieramosca opened his 
 arms to embrace Vittoria ; but he recollected himself, and 
 instead, he put one knee on the floor, took her hand, and 
 stamped on it kisses of gratitude, which spoke more than 
 a thousand words. 
 
 Then he rose, almost beside himself, and started to 
 go to Sant' Orsola, without speaking another word ; but 
 he halted a moment, looking at his breast, and turned 
 back. 
 
 " See, Signora," he said with a smile, and somewhat 
 hesitating, " see this blue scarf, it is a gift from her. . . 
 Today a cut from the sword, lodging on the breast-plate, 
 has cut it in twain." 
 
 Saying this he undid the knot which he had made 
 with the two ends to keep it together. 
 
 " I know I venture too much, but, for great mercy, 
 would you be pleased to mend it, so that Ginevra will not 
 see that it is cut ? The poor thing would take it as a bad 
 omen. . . . She might say : Why not protect it with 
 the buckler ? . . ." 
 
 Most willingly did Vittoria go to her room to pro- 
 cure the needed implements, thus having an opportunity 
 to recover herself and to control the deep emotions of her 
 heart, commiserating the baseless confidence of Fiera- 
 mosca. She returned more assured, and began to 
 mend the scarf, keeping her head bent downward, that 
 he might not read the expression of her countenance. 
 
 While she was engaged at her work, Ettore remarked 
 with a smile : " You can scarcely distinguish its color 
 . . . It has gone through many hardships. ... It has
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 349 
 
 been my companion during many evil hours. It shall 
 henceforward be the companion of my happiness. If 
 you knew how many years I have worn it ! . . .1 have 
 saved it through so many battles . . . and today ! . . . 
 this very day, when all my trials will be turned into joy 
 . . . they have spoiled it ! If I believed in signs, what 
 should I think ? " 
 
 Vittoria went on sewing without uttering a syllable. 
 In a terrible struggle between the feeling that he ought 
 to know the true state of affairs, and the unsurmount- 
 able dread of being obliged to pour so much sorrow into 
 his heart, she thought of compromising matters by sending 
 for Brancaleone, and lay it upon him to help his friend in 
 that terrible trial. 
 
 " A thousand thanks to you," said Ettore when the 
 mending was finished ; and hurrying down the steps, he 
 was in the castle yard with the speed of the lightning. 
 There was no other person there but Masuccio holding 
 Ettore's horse, still panting and foaming ; the head of the 
 poor animal was hanging down, its eye was spiritless, and 
 its flanks were heaving laboriously. 
 
 " To the stable, to the stable," cried Ettore, as he 
 dashed by his groom ; " don't you know any better ? . . . 
 to keep a horse so hot and sweating in the open 
 air ! . . . " and off he went towards the shore, as the 
 passage to Sant' Orsola was much shorter by water. 
 
 But no boat could he obtain at the wharf. The vessels 
 carrying the Spanish troops were anchored in the harbor, 
 and Gonzalo was very anxious that they should all be 
 landed before night. Every skiff, boat, and craft of any 
 kind in the port had been engaged for that purpose. 
 
 Ettore stamped the gi'ound with his foot, and exclaimed, 
 " I'll go on horseback ; it is a longer route, but be it so."
 
 350 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 He went to the stable ; Masuccio was taking the bridle 
 off Airone's neck. 
 
 " Let it be," he said, and taking the bridle from 
 Masuccio's hands, threw it over the animal's neck, leaped 
 on the saddle, and in a few moments he was out of the 
 city, following the road which led to the Monastery along 
 the sea-shore. 
 
 " Poor Airone ! " he said, patting the horse's neck with 
 his hand, while with the spur he hurried the sluggish trot 
 of the good steed, for whom it was hard to be driven from 
 the stable after so much fatigue ; " thou art right, but 
 have patience a little longer, and I will repay thee for all." 
 
 Night was approaching ; the sun had been down for 
 half an hour. Fieramosca faced the east ; behind him 
 the sky was serene, free from any vapor, but immense 
 clouds arose before him, towering up in huge black vol- 
 umes towards the sky, and flattened at the bottom on a 
 line parallel with the horizon. Broad sheets of rain 
 were pouring down perpendicularly on the waters, in 
 more or less dense masses ; and the summits of that heap 
 of clouds drifting towards the sky, still reflected the rays 
 of the expiring sun, and were colored with a whitish 
 light. Almost incessantly did the quivering glare of the 
 lightning flash through that darkness, and the thunder 
 rumbled heavily from afar. The sea was rising and 
 threatened a squall ; it was black in the high waters, 
 while the crests of the billows sparkled with white and 
 feathery spray. The waves, gradually rolling towards 
 the shore, ended in very sharp blades, green and trans- 
 parent, advancing like a crystal wall, the top of which 
 curling over fell with a splash, and covered with foam the 
 dry gravel of the coast. 
 
 However, the gloomy appearance of the weather could
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 351 
 
 not at that time mar in the least the buoyant happiness 
 of the Italian knight. With an impatient, restless eye 
 he spanned the distance separating him from Sant' Orsola, 
 and the coast being level and bare he saw the building 
 most plainly. He imagined the pleasure of the first en- 
 counter with Ginevra ; he imagined how she would come 
 to meet him with that look so full of honesty, and that 
 approach so cheering and graceful. He would be the 
 first to announce to her the news of the victory ! only 
 he felt embarrassed in finding the most proper manner 
 to inform her that now she was perfectly free to dis- 
 pose of her own hand. 
 
 When within two musket shots from the tower, the 
 easterly wind had drifted the storm nearer to Ettore, who 
 had to ride against it ; large drops of rain fell obliquely 
 on the youth's ai'mor, and rebounded in a spray over the 
 armor ; they became quicker and quicker, and smaller and 
 smaller. A thunderbolt seemed to have burst open one 
 of the cataracts of heaven, and the rain began to descend 
 with great violence, drenching Fieramosca from head to 
 foot, although he was only a few strides from the tower. 
 The gates had not yet been closed; he rode through 
 swiftly, and in a few moments he was on the island and 
 at the guests' lodge. He tied the horse to the iron grate 
 of the window of an outbuilding, and dashed up to Gi- 
 nevra's room. 
 
 It is useless to say that it was empty. He came 
 down again, and at first he thought of entering the 
 church. He knew that one of its high tribunes was a 
 favorite spot with her, where she resorted to perform her 
 devotions ; he entered it, but it was empty ; the church 
 was empty also and almost perfectly dark. That part of. 
 the choir or absis that could be seen was also empty ; still
 
 352 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 the sound of a subdued psalmody, coming as it were from 
 underground, reached his ear. He went forward, and 
 saw flickering on the ceiling of the dome, a faint light 
 issuing from the grated opening, before the high altar, 
 and communicating with the chapel underneath ; as he 
 drew near, he heard a mournful singing of psalms in the 
 little chapel below. He turned around the altar, and 
 went down. The clatter of his arms, of his spurs, and 
 of the scabbard rebounding on the steps, attracted the 
 attention of those who stood in a circle around the centre 
 of the chapel ; they opened the way for* the warrior. Et- 
 tore found himself by the bier which he had seen that 
 morning in the vestry of San Dominico ; before him, by 
 the altar, stood the hallowed person of Fra Mariano, with 
 the black stole on his breast, his right hand raised, and 
 extended in the act of sprinkling the blessed water ; in the 
 midst, an open tomb ; on one side two men holding up- 
 right the stone ; on the other side Zorais, desperately 
 crying on her knees, bent over Ginevra's corpse, was 
 arranging the shroud around the head, and placing a 
 wreath of white roses over that pale brow. 
 
 Ettore reached the brink of the sepulchre, saw every 
 thing, but remained motionless, spoke not a word, made 
 no sign, did not move even an eyelid. His face began 
 to sink ; it became as pale as death ; a convulsive quiver 
 seized his lips, and a cold perspiration in large drops 
 trickled down from his brow. 
 
 Zorais sobbed louder, and Fra Mariano, with a troubled, 
 unsteady voice, showing how sadly his heart was lacer- 
 ated at the sight of that most unhappy youth, made an 
 effort to say : 
 
 " She fled to heaven yesterday. God has now made 
 her a great deal happier than if she had remained with
 
 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 353 
 
 But even the good priest was choking with tears, and 
 said no more. 
 
 The stone was slowly lowered on the crowbars, met 
 with the bezels of the tomb, it fell, and there it lay. 
 
 Ettore was still motionless. Fra Mariano approached 
 him, took him by the hand, which was given without 
 resistance, embraced him, turned him around to lead him 
 away from that place, and Ettore obeyed. They as- 
 cended the steps, and then went out of the church ; the 
 lightning still flashed, the thunder still rumbled, the rain 
 was falling in torrents. When they had reached the 
 guests' quarters, Fieramosca disentangled himself from the 
 arms of the good monk ; and before the latter could even 
 utter a word, the unfortunate knight was already on his 
 saddle, bending over the horse, dashing the spurs into his 
 flanks, and the tramp of a full gallop was heard under the 
 sombre entry of the tower. 
 
 Neither Fieramosca's friends, nor any person of those 
 times, ever saw him after that day, alive or dead. 
 
 Various were the surmises as to his end, but all vague 
 and groundless. Only one had some semblance of truth, 
 and it originated thus : 
 
 Some poor mountaineers of Mount Gargano, who were 
 at work making coal, related to some peasants and thus 
 the story went from mouth to mouth, until it reached 
 even Barletta, long after the Spanish camp had been 
 raised how, on a certain very stormy night, they had 
 seen the strange apparition of a knight, armed from head 
 to foot, riding his horse on the top of inaccessible rocks, 
 which formed the brink of a cliff perpendicularly rising 
 from the sea. At first only a few spoke of it, then many 
 were told of the secret, until at last all believed that it 
 was a supernatural vision which had been seen.
 
 354 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 But when Fra Mariano heard of it, and compared 
 dates, he believed that Ettore, being out of his mind, 
 had pushed his horse into very dangerous places, and that 
 at last both horse and rider fell into some unknown abyss, 
 or perhaps into the sea. 
 
 In 1616, a large tract of rocks under the Gargano 
 became dry, and a fisherman discovered between two 
 huge rocks a heap of irons half corroded by the action 
 of salt water and rust, and rumaging among them, he 
 found some human bones and the carcass of a horse. 
 
 The reader can draw his own conclusions. Our story 
 is ended. 
 
 It would be vain and ridiculous to believe that this 
 story will be well received on our own merits ; but we 
 think that the Italians will accept with kind indulgence 
 the good will of one who has taken some pains in record- 
 ing an exploit which honors them so much. To display 
 the valor of the conquerors in bolder relief, we did not feel 
 at liberty to feign circumstances which might aggravate 
 the case of the vanquished. The histories of Giovio, 
 Guicciardini and othei's, would lay our dishonesty open. 
 It was not our aim to offer a reproach to French valor, 
 which we are among the foremost to acknowledge 
 and honor. We only aimed at making Italian valor 
 known ; and in this, history amply bears us out. On 
 this subject let us be allowed to protest against the 
 base contentions, which frequently lead men of different 
 nations to cast into each other's faces, often summon- 
 ing help from falsehood, their shame and their faults ; 
 on the contrary, we hold it as a duty of those who love
 
 ETTOEE FIERAMOSCA. 355 
 
 human nature, to trample under foot, and smother those 
 sparks of hatred, unfortunately too lasting and suicidal, 
 thereby following the law of love and justice proclaimed 
 in the gospel. 
 
 But what shall we say of those enmities more foolish, 
 aye, more sacrilegious, which have sometimes lasted so 
 long between parties of the same nation ? Unfortunately 
 Italy cannot blot out from her national escutcheon the 
 stain of this crime and shame ; although the whole world 
 will allow to her the primacy of merit and glory in other 
 respects. Although those animosities have always been, 
 and are now more than ever, deplored and accursed, 
 still the blame is very far from filling the measure of the 
 guilt. 
 
 It is then our opinion that whoever undertakes to 
 record some of those painful events with which our his- 
 tories are unhappily teeming, may indeed fulfil a great 
 duty, imperfectly, it is true, but not unprofitably or alto- 
 gether uselessly. And moreover it seems to us that this 
 verdict of blame must appear more sincere and more 
 weighty when it bears on one's natal place ; otherwise 
 the judgment might appear partial, and not altogether 
 free from that international jealousy which it is the pur- 
 pose of the writer to condemn. Therefore, in our opinion, 
 none could be more in duty bound to let a solemn record 
 of condemnation be placed against the memory of Grai- 
 ano d'Asti, than he who shares with him a common birth- 
 place in Piedmont. 
 
 It is true, however, that Napione has long ago expressed 
 the opinion of the Piedmontese as regards that traitor. 
 " That countrymen of ours from Asti, who in the famous 
 Passage-at-Arms of Quadrate, having taken up arms 
 with the French against the Italians, not only shared
 
 356 ETTORE FIERAMOSCA. 
 
 with them the ignominy of a defeat, but, having fallen in 
 the struggle, it was the opinion of all at the time, that 
 he had been deservedly punished for his folly, because he 
 had dared to take up arms against his country in favor 
 of a strange nation." * 
 
 But be it said for our comfort, that in this day, let 
 Italy be searched from end to end, not a single one 
 could be found, who would follow the example of that 
 wretch. 
 
 * NAPIONE, on the Use and Beauties of the Italian Language. Book 
 1, ch. 15. 
 
 THE END.


 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below 
 
 MAY 101948 
 0CT15 
 
 [RGE-UK 
 RPR 71990 
 MAR 271980 
 
 LOS ANGELE
 
 000 563 535