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 MARCO VISCONTI
 
 MARCO VISCONTI: 
 
 BY 
 
 TOMMASO GROSSI. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN 
 
 BY 
 
 A. F. D. 
 
 THE BALLADS RENDERED INTO ENGLISH VERSE, 
 BY 
 
 C. M. P. 
 
 
 LONDON: GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET, 
 COVENT GARDEN. 
 
 1881.
 
 CHISWICK PRESS : 
 
 WHITTINGHAM AND CO., TOOKS COURT, 
 CHANCERY LANE.
 
 •4705 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE story of " Marco Visconti " was written by 
 Tommaso Grossi at the beginning of this century, 
 and dedicated to his master and friend, Manzoni. 
 
 " Marco Visconti," like Manzoni's famous novel, " I 
 
 Promessi Sposi," derives living force and reality from 
 
 . the contemporary chronicles upon which it is founded. 
 
 fvl There is also another point of resemblance between the 
 
 or two novels. If Manzoni might have laid down his pen 
 
 ^ with the happy conviction that he had written " no line 
 
 which, dying, he could wish to blot," Grossi was, in this 
 
 respect, a worthy follower of his great master. 
 
 This last consideration has been the chief incentive to 
 the translator in preparing a new English version of 
 " Marco Visconti," which is now humbly offered to the 
 public, in the hope of making the high merit of the 
 original more universally known. 
 g The translator is indebted to a friend for the English 
 ' versions of the Italian ballads. 
 
 PUBLISHERS' NOTICE. 
 
 Two English versions of " Marco Visconti " have 
 appeared before this, both of which are now out of 
 print. But the publishers finding that this more recent 
 rendering was in every way superior to its predecessors,
 
 PUBLISHERS NOTICE. 
 
 liaA'^e been glad to arrange with the translator for its 
 incorporation in " Bohn's Novelist's Library." 
 
 This edition is reprinted, after careful revision, from 
 a more expensive one published in 1879.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LIMONTA is the name of a small tract of country 
 covered with chestnut woods, which hide it almost 
 entirely from the view of persons sailing from the point 
 of Bellagio towards Lecco, between which places it is 
 about half-way, and immediately opposite Lierna. From 
 the eighth century down to the time when feudal tenures 
 in Lombardy were abolished, Limonta was an appanage 
 of the monastery of San Ambrogio at Milan, whose 
 abbot added to his other titles that of Count of Limonta. 
 
 At the point where the Abbot's territory joined the 
 district of Bellagio, and where a stone still marks the 
 boundary, there existed in the year 1329 an old castle, 
 of which now no traces are to be found, as it was razed 
 to the ground towards the end of that century. 
 
 This castle, at the date of our story, belonged to a 
 certain Count Oldrado del Balzo, whose ancestors seem 
 to have been at one time suzerains of Bellagio, now 
 fallen under municipal rule. The Count Oldrado, though 
 possessed of other estates in different parts of Lombardy, 
 spent the greater part of the year here, in the society of 
 his wife and an only daughter, who were, like himself, 
 devotedly attached to their beautiful lake, set off as it 
 was by the fine sky, and the soft, joyous, and luxurious 
 climate of Italy. 
 
 Rich, illustrious, and powerful, owing to their con- 
 
 B
 
 2 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 nections and possessions, the family of Balzo had always 
 been considered the natural protectors of the inhabitants 
 of the district, all of whom had, from father to son, 
 imbibed a traditional reverence and affection for the 
 family risfftier ' 
 
 But althoagh Count Oldrado had succeeded to such a 
 noble inheritance, he had not quite understood how to 
 maint^iri, xo, and iiad forfeited in some degree the good 
 feeling of the old vassals of the house. Not that his 
 disposition was really bad, for he was, on the contrary, a 
 good kind of man ; but it fell to his lot to live in hard times 
 and in difficult circumstances. Weak, timid, and vain, 
 he was not endowed with the requisite vigour for effect- 
 ing as much good as he would otherwise have desired. 
 
 About that time the Emperor Lewis, the Bavarian, 
 had made a raid into Italy, and had taken upon himself 
 to depose the reigning Sovereign Pontiff, John XXII., 
 then resident at Avignon, by whom he had been excom- 
 municated, and had set up an Anti-Pope at Rome, in 
 the person of one Pietro da Corvaria, a Minorite Friar, 
 who took the name of Nicholas V., whence arose that 
 great schism which disturbed all Christendom. 
 
 The Duchy of Milan, which had so long groaned 
 under the interdict fulminated against it on account of 
 the Pope's hatred of the Visconti as determined ad- 
 herents of the Ghibelline faction, declared at once for 
 the Anti-Pope. The latter having in return removed 
 the interdict from the Milanese capital, as well as from 
 the other minor towns and the more considerable vil- 
 lages, the chiu'ches were re-opened, and the few remain- 
 ing clergy resumed their ecclesiastical functions, and 
 administered the sacraments as usual. But in the 
 country, especially round the Lake of Como, the people, 
 less influenced by party spirit, remained faithful to the 
 true Pope, and refused to open the churches, regarding 
 the priests sent to them from the capital as schismatics 
 and excommunicate. There were, as may be supposed, 
 in the towns many who sympathized with the peasantry, 
 and, vice versa, among the inhabitants of the country 
 districts not a few shared the views of the majority of
 
 MARCO YISCOXTI. ó 
 
 the townspeople ; so that we can well imagine that life 
 was not altogether pleasant in those unfortunate times, 
 few places being free from profanation, violence, and 
 sanguinary strife between the rival religious factions. 
 Frate Aicardo, Archbishop of Milan, and the Abbot of 
 San Ambrogio, together with most of the abbots of the 
 richest and more distinguished monasteries, had already 
 sought refuge in flight ; and the choicest portion of the 
 clergy, both regular and secular, were begging their way 
 through Italy and France. The archiepiscopal revenues, 
 the abbeys, and the minor ecclesiastical benefices were 
 either forcibly seized and retained by the lay lords, or 
 else given up to schismatic priests, partisans of the 
 German Emperor. 
 
 In this perturbed state of affairs Giovanni Visconti, a 
 relation of the princely family of that name, who had 
 been appointed Abbot of San Ambrogio in the place of 
 the true Abbot Astolfo da Lampugnano, had sent to 
 Limonta, as steward of the monastery, a thorough -paced 
 scoundrel, who had been already condemned at Milan 
 for coining and forgery. This man, in revenge for the 
 fidelity with which these poor movxntaineers served their 
 liege lords, robbed and fleeced them without mercy, 
 besides adding insult to injury by treating them as rebels 
 to boot. The people of Limonta turned to Count Old- 
 rado, and besought him to use his influence with the 
 new Abbot, and also to intercede with the nobles so as 
 to get their rights recognized. But they soon found 
 that it was labour lost to have anything to do with him. 
 
 The Count had so many scruples and fears, that he 
 would not commit himself to anything, nor risk falling 
 into disfavour with the Visconti ; and thou^gh pitying 
 in his heart these unhappy victims, he would have left 
 them to be flayed alive rather than make up his mind to 
 stir a finger to help them. 
 
 PelagTua (for such was the name of the steward of 
 the monastery) became more audacious every day, and 
 at last bethought him of a plan to ruin, at one blow, all 
 the people under his authority, by a bold act of rascality, 
 which would hand them over to him — body and soul, so
 
 4 MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 to speak — once for all, and so spare him. the necessity of 
 perpetually contending with individuals. He set to work, 
 therefore, to unearth some old documents relating to 
 Lothair Augustus's donation of these lands to the Monks 
 of San Ambrogio. Armed with these, he meant to cause 
 the people of Limonta to be adjudged not only vassals, 
 as they were, but serfs of the monastery, and to summon 
 them for this purpose before the tribunals of Bellano. 
 
 Ballano was then under the Archiepiscopal Court, by 
 which term was meant an estate where the lord of the 
 fief had his mansion and chapel, and pre-eminently the 
 place where he administered justice : hence the decision 
 of a suit of this nature properly belonged to the Arch- 
 bishop's officials. But the Archbishop having fled from 
 the diocese, many estates belonging to him on the shores 
 of Lecco and in Val Sessina, and among them this very 
 Court of Bellano, had been appropriated by one Cres- 
 sone Crivello, a powerful noble and partisan of the 
 Visconti ; and therefore the case of these Limonta people 
 had now to be decided, not by the archiepiscopal officials, 
 but by those of Crivello. Now this new lord was too 
 Dpcn a friend of the false Abbot of San Ambrogio, and 
 too much interested in favouring the oppressions that 
 he himself incessantly exercised upon his new vassals, 
 for anything' but evil to be expected from him for 
 Limonta. We may be sure that the Limontese did not 
 fail to cry out pretty loudly or to do their best to gain 
 over Count del Balzo to their side. All their efforts, 
 however, were thrown away. The Count, although im- 
 plored both by his wife Ermelinda, and by his daughter 
 Beatrice, who was as the apple of his eye, did not dare 
 to undertake the defence of the wretched peasantry, who 
 had to submit to be dragged before that incompetent 
 and iniquitous tribunal, and await a sentence whiA 
 they too well knew would be mere judicial murder. 
 
 Towards evening, on the day of the trial, the Count's 
 falconer was standing on the battlements of the castle, 
 and gazing down the lake as far as his eye could reach, 
 to see if any of the vessels were in sight which were 
 expected back from Belluno. At last he descried in the
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. Ò 
 
 distance a brown sail, which gradually increased in size 
 as the bark that bore it neared the castle, and he at once 
 hastened to carry the news to his lord. The Count was 
 seated in a spacious hall, in an arm-chair with a pointed 
 back, and a gay young page, lively as a Cupid, reclined 
 on a low foot-stool at his feet. Condemned by his office 
 to remain quiet in his place, the boy amused himself hj 
 playing- with a large greyhound, which wagged its tail 
 and pricked its ears with delight, and bounded about the 
 hall in response to the caresses lavished upon it. 
 
 Count del Balzo was a man nearer fifty than forty 
 years of age. From beneath a square black cap there 
 fell on his temples two locks of hair, once of a deep red, 
 which, when young, he had called, and still continued 
 to call auburn, although now they were decidedly griz- 
 zled, and even might be said to be white. A thin and 
 freckled face ended in a sharp chin, on which, whenever 
 the Count spoke, there wagged a stiff, short beard of the 
 same colour as his hair. Two small grey eyes glared 
 from beneath his eyebrows, with an expression that had 
 not lost its fire, but vanity and self-satisfaction were the 
 main characteristics of that wooden face, with its arti- 
 ficially pursed-up mouth. 
 
 He bore on his wrist a superb gerfalcon, which seemed 
 to revel in his caresses — now arching its neck, and utter- 
 ing a low cry ; now rufihng its feathers, and feigning 
 occasionally to peck gently at the hand that approached 
 it. When the falconer entered the hall the noble bird 
 at once recognized its trainer, and, with outstretched 
 wings and a somewhat louder cry, seemed to invite him 
 to take it on his wi^ist. 
 
 " Well," asked the lord, " are they coming from 
 Bellano ? " 
 
 " Yes, sire, they are. Michael and his son Ai'igozzo 
 have just disembarked on the beach at Carneccio." 
 
 The Count, on hearing this, handed over the falcon to 
 the page, who left the room with it, whilst he and the 
 falconer remained to await the arrival of the two boat- 
 men, who soon afterwards entered the apartment. 
 
 The party consisted of Michael, the father, a man
 
 b MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 Avell on in years, and Arigozzo, the son, a fine young 
 man, about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years of 
 age. 
 
 " What news ? " the Count asked the old man. 
 
 " Grod's will be done ! " 
 
 " Come ; tell me everything." 
 
 " Well, then, I will tell you how it was : the bell 
 rang, and there appeared in the Archbishop's portico 
 that excommunicated wretch in the midst of three or 
 four Scribes and Pharisees, who began to mutter out 
 some cock-and-bull story, out of a lot of old parchments, 
 fit only to wrap up salt fish, which he kept tapping with 
 his hand, as if he expected them to utter a confirmation 
 of his impostures. At last he changed his note, and 
 began to tell the following falsehood : ' There was,' he 
 said, ' evidence that the people of Limonta had always 
 been serfs of the monastery, and he alleged as a proof 
 that we always had had our heads shaved, and that 
 it was but a short time since our hair was allowed 
 to grow.' Could anything be more infamous than 
 that?" 
 
 " But were there no witnesses ? " asked the Count. 
 
 "There was no lack of them," answered Michael. 
 " You may be sure that some would be found, even if 
 our Lord were to be crucified afresh. There are plenty 
 of people that would swear to anything for the sake 
 of a cask of figs — a set of excommunicated Ghibellines 
 who would sell their souls to the devil." 
 
 " And what happened then ? " 
 
 " After that crafty old fox had finished, our advocate, 
 Lorenzo da Garliagnate, began to state our side of the 
 case. He said plainly enough that we were neither the 
 Abbot's vassals nor his serfs, and that all we have 
 done for the last hundred years has been to pay him 
 his dues in the shape of poll-tax and tithes ; to lend him 
 our labour during the olive and chestnut harvest ; to load 
 his boats ; and, in fact, to do just what we were bound 
 to do, and no more. And then he finished up with a 
 most extraordinary expression, which he said was in our 
 favour. Don't you recollect, Arigozzo ? "
 
 MAECO VISCONTI. 7 
 
 " I remember lie said something or other," replied the 
 son, " about some right we had, but I never heard tell 
 of such a thing before." 
 
 " Did he say that you were no longer serfs by pre- 
 scriptive right ? " suggested the Count. 
 
 " That's it ! The very thing ! " exclaimed both father 
 and son. 
 
 " You see," said the Count, " I have all such matters 
 at my fingers' ends." 
 
 " Then to prove this fact," proceeded Michael, " our 
 advocate brought forward his honest witnesses, consisting 
 of all the oldest inhabitants from all parts of the country." 
 
 " And then ? " 
 
 " Then all appeared settled, did it not ? " was the reply. 
 
 " But no, my lord. That Pilate of a judge invented 
 something new, and said there were so many witnesses 
 on both sides ready to swear to anything, that the case 
 would never end : it must be decided by the Ordeal of 
 God." 
 
 " The Ordeal of God !" exclaimed the Count. 
 
 " So he said," continued Michael ; " and all the people 
 began to applaud, as if he had given ever so fine a 
 judgment. One called for the ' Ordeal of Hot Iron.' 
 * Boiling Water,' exclaimed another. ' The Ordeal of 
 the Crosses,' said I, and told my Arigozzo here to offer 
 himself on behalf of Limonta, which he accordingly did." 
 
 " And did they accept him ? " 
 
 " No," said Michael ; " because they were a set of 
 rogues. But I have seen it written that there is no 
 danger in the Ordeal of the Crosses. When I was a 
 boy, I was once the champion, so to speak, of the 
 monastery, and won a cause for them against Bellagio." 
 
 " Come, don't go on for ever," interrupted Count 
 Oldrado, " but let us go back to our subject. What was 
 settled at last ? " 
 
 " There was a fine ending," said the other, " the 
 Abbot's advocate would have the Ordeal by Single 
 Combat, and the Archbishop's deputy of course agreed 
 with the other, and so there was an end of it." 
 
 " A duel, cum fustibus et scutis, with cudgels and
 
 O MARCO TISCONTI. 
 
 shields ? " asked the Count, sententiously ; " because as 
 it is an aft'air between common people, tliey have no 
 right to weapons of chivalry." 
 
 " Yes," replied Michael, "with cudgels and shields." 
 
 " And who will fight for you ? " asked the Count. 
 
 " Ah ! that's only too quickly answered. But let 
 me tell you first who has offered himself for the monas- 
 tery : a great demon with red hair and such broad 
 shoulders." 
 
 " Then you have not accepted the ordeal, you lazy 
 cowards ! " exclaimed Del Balzo. 
 
 " My Arigozzo wished to come forward," replied 
 Michael, " but I would not have it. 'Twould be the last 
 drop in my cup of misery were I to risk losing my son, 
 who is the only comfort of his mother and myself, now 
 that we are old and have no one else in the world to 
 look to." And, turning to his son, he took him by the 
 arm, and added, " Look well to yourself, and take care 
 not to mix yourself up in the affair. I won't have it, 
 unless you wish to kill me and your raother." 
 
 "You have said so to me three times already," 
 answered Arigozzo ; " so there is no help for it. Well, 
 there are still four days left to find a champion." 
 
 " And for these four days I shall keep you shut up 
 at home," said his father. " I'll stay to look after you — 
 and you shall not defy me." 
 
 " Oh ! bother take the man ! " said the son, shrugging 
 his shoulders with a rough but affectionate gesture, and 
 the subject dropped. 
 
 Then Ambrose, the falconer, who, till then, had not 
 opened his mouth, joined in the conversation. "And 
 cannot we find a champion ? " he said. " Why not get- 
 one of those fellows who will do anything for money ? 
 Pay him well, and let him fight for the rights of the 
 country." 
 
 " No," replied the Count, stroking his beard with 
 one hand, " that cannot be. The privilege of putting 
 forward a champion for the ordeal not personally in- 
 terested, belongs to the nobility and the religious orders 
 alone."
 
 MARCO YISCONTI. 9 
 
 " Then," continued the other, " we must either all be 
 ruined, or get some native of Limonta to fight with the 
 ch;inipion of the monastery." 
 
 "Just so," said the Count, sententiouslj. 
 
 " Oh ! if my Lupo were at home," exclaimed the fal- 
 coner, " or somewhere where I could let him know in 
 time, those swaggering fellows should not have it all 
 their own way." 
 
 " Tell me," asked Michael, " is not your Lupo page to 
 Ottorino Visconti ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the falconer ; " he was page at first, when 
 he went away five years ago ; but now he is his squire, 
 and the noble lord is very fond of him, and never likes 
 to be without him." 
 
 On hearing this the boatman looked greatly relieved, 
 and, rubbing his hands, exclaimed, " Then let us be off 
 to Como at once, without losing a moment." 
 
 " What ! " said the falconer. " Do you know that my 
 Lupo is at Como ? " 
 
 "I know," said Michael, "that Ottorino Visconti is 
 there ; " and turning to his son, added, " Ton saw him, 
 as well, you know, when we were there on Tuesday." 
 
 " What ! Was he that young knight who saluted us 
 on the pier, and spoke to you ? " said Arigozzo. 
 
 "Exactly so," replied his father. 
 
 " Oh ! I saw him ; and it was the same who was such 
 a friend of poor Count Lionello — bless his sainted soul ! 
 — my lord's son here, and who stayed months at the 
 castle to bear him company." 
 
 " Then," exclaimed the boatman joyfully, " let us go 
 home and take a mouthful, and then be off directly, 
 while the lake is smooth. The boat is ready, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered his son ; " sails, oars, awning are all 
 there, as, in order to get here without delay, I did not 
 take anything out." 
 
 The father laid his hand on his son's arm, bowed to 
 the Count, and made for the door, saying to the falconer, 
 " Shall I tell him all my news in your name ? " 
 
 "Yes, do so. Say everything in my name," was the 
 answer.
 
 10 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 "Good-bye, then, till to-morrow," said the other j 
 "you will see me back with him," and went off. 
 
 "Michael," cried the Count after him, "remember to 
 act as on your own account. Don't let anyone think I 
 have had a hand in the matter. I don't want to get 
 into trouble for you. Do you understand ? " 
 
 " I understand," replied the boatman.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 11 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE next daj, wliicli was Sunday, the small clmrch 
 of San Bernardo at Limonta was open, and mass 
 was being said by a friar sent from Milan, as the parish 
 priest had left his cure on account of the interdict, and for 
 this reason was still a fugitive in deadly fear of Pelagrua, 
 who had vowed his ruin. The only persons, however, 
 present at this service were the steward, or proctor, and 
 his family. The people of Limonta, and also many from 
 Civenna and Bellagio, were scattered about the little 
 square, or gTOuped on the mountain side, or assembled 
 round the fountain, a few steps above the church, dis- 
 cussing the great event of the day before, the approach- 
 ing ruin to the district, the baseness and perfidy of 
 Pelagrua, and whether it were yet possible to avert the 
 coming evil consequences. 
 
 Four or five armed mffians were marching up and 
 down the square, trying either by fair or foul means to 
 get the jDeople into church ; but the populace were too 
 firm in their opinions, too irritated by late events, too 
 numerous to allow themselves to be persuaded by fine 
 words, or to be intimidated by the scowls of a handful 
 of swashbucklers. The latter, at last, seeing they 
 could do no good, gave way, and contented themselves 
 with standing sentinel at the door of the church, and 
 from that position attempting to induce those of the 
 crowd who were nearest to them, to take off their hats 
 or bow their heads in reverence to the mass. But the 
 people all persisted in standing erect, and keeping on their 
 hats, and amused themselves with passing in front of 
 the sentries, laughing at them, even pushing them about, 
 and provoking them with whistling and other noises. 
 
 Pelagrua, who was in church, kneeling near the altar, 
 turned his head at these noises, and seeing such a crowd
 
 12 MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 of sinister faces and sncli i^ongli behaviour, began to feel 
 rather home-sick, and heartily wished himself and his 
 family back in his own house, with his faithful gTiards 
 about him. He, however, managed to control himself 
 so as not to alarm those around him. 
 
 The celebrating priest too, under pretence of sending 
 to the choir for the missal or some of the sacred altar- 
 vessels, turned round and saw the scoffing crowd — a 
 sight which did not altogether conduce to his comfort. 
 The Epistle and Grospel never seemed to him so long, so 
 he cut his discourse as short as he could, in order to get 
 to the " Ite, missa est," as quickly as possible. And 
 what would he and Pelagi-ua have felt if they could have 
 heard the conversation going on outside, and how the 
 popular excitement was rising ? 
 
 " What an infamous injustice this is, and how quietly 
 we are taking it ! " cried a Limonta lad, chatting with 
 other peasants. 
 
 " Why don't you go to Bellano and offer yourself as 
 our champion ? " rejoined an old white-haired man who 
 stood by, leaning on an iron-shod stick, with his chin 
 resting on his hands. 
 
 " That's a nice idea, Mr. Shepherd ! " replied the first 
 speaker. " Fight with that fellow ! He's a sorcerer, and 
 has a hundred charmed herbs woven into his clothes 
 that will make his skin as tough as — as tough as the 
 Grigna pelata."^ 
 
 " Stefanolo is right. He is well known to be a 
 magician," said another. " They chose him because no 
 one could hope to pit themselves against him and escape 
 with a whole skin. Those heretic hounds are all agreed 
 together to torment us." 
 
 " It would serve them right," resumed the first 
 speaker, "to begin to do justice for ourselves before 
 they make us lose both body and soul." 
 
 ^ "La Grigna Pelata," a sort of coot or waterfowl peculiar to 
 Lombardy, with lonj^, featherless legs, and a skin so thick and imper- 
 vious that it has become a proverb for toughness. II Grossi may 
 also have intended a pun up(vn Pelagrua's name in choosing " La 
 Grigna Pelata" for his metaphor.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 13 
 
 "You are quite right to speak, of losing body and 
 soul," said one of the bystanders, " seeing that the devil 
 himself, in the shape of Pelagraa, is going to mass, now 
 that to do so is a mortal sin ; before, when it was the 
 proper thing to do, he didn't trouble himself about it, 
 and now he only goes to draw us on to our ruin." 
 
 " Why, he's always been a heretic," went on Stefanolo ; 
 " and whoever knew him in former days, knows he was 
 excommunicated by our archbishop, and condemned to 
 wear black crosses stitched on his cloak perpetually." 
 
 " And his trade before coming here to bully us, was to 
 forge bank-notes," cried a fresh speaker; "and I have 
 often seen him, when I have been at Milan at Christmas, 
 to carry fish to the monastery for the quit-rent. I've 
 seen him painted on the wall of the new Broletto, and 
 with a placard underneath with his name and surname 
 and everything. Fancy their sending us here this pre- 
 cious jewel ! " 
 
 "And then, if storms come at seed-time, if the frost 
 spoils the olives ; if, when the chestnuts are husked, we 
 only find peel and skin ; if the fish falls from the line, or 
 a boat is lost, then there are a hundred excuses : it was 
 the weather, or the influence of the planets, or something 
 or another ; but I'll tell you what the cause is — it is this 
 set of excommunicated heretics whom we have among 
 us. Who can be surprised if the devil should often 
 visit his own house ? " 
 
 " Burn the house ! " " Hang the villain ! " "Throw 
 him into the lake ! " cried out many voices from the 
 crowd which kept closing round the speakers. 
 
 Just then the mass came to an end, and Pelagma, 
 sui-rounded by his bravoes, issued from the church on 
 his way to the monastery, which was only a stone's- 
 throw o&. The people began to press round, crying 
 out, " Take the heretic, hang him, quarter him, murder 
 him ! " making a great noise, as may be conceived, but 
 without harming anyone. Hardly was the procurator 
 inside the threshold, when the door was banged in the 
 face of the crowd, and good-night was the word ; those 
 inside are inside, and those who are not ^nay be left out
 
 14 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 in the cold. On this the mob redoubled their shouts, 
 but as no mischief had really occurred, the storm would 
 have passed away, if it had not been for an unlucky 
 outburst of revenge on the part of some of Pelagrua's 
 braggadocios, who, feeling humiliated at having retreated 
 before a lot of clowns (as they called their opponents), 
 were longing to be at them. Some of them having got 
 up into a turret beside the door, began to jeer at the 
 crowd and to irritate them in every way they could, and 
 declared they would soon make them rue theii* insolence. 
 On this the outsiders, becoming exasperated, began 
 throwing a few stones, without, however, hitting their 
 mark, which only made the opposite side increase their 
 taunts, till at last one of the rogues above had his arm 
 struck by a stone, and, turning quickly to pick up the 
 offending flint, threw it down with all his force, when 
 unluckily it dropped on the head of a child, nine or ten 
 years old, who was among the crowd, shouting as loud 
 as the rest. The boy had his skull fractured, and died 
 in less time than one could repeat a paternoster. 
 
 This mishap was like a spark falling into a powder- 
 magazine. The crowd, almost mad with rage, gave a 
 general howl of execration, and shouted for vengeance. 
 In the twinkling of an eye the door was smashed in. 
 The bullies that ran up were upset and dashed to the 
 ground, and an impetuous wave of people, rushing 
 through the long passage, poured into the first court- 
 yard. In a moment the house was full of terror and 
 confusion. You could hear the noise of doors and 
 windows being fastened in haste, as at the sudden ap- 
 proach of a tempest, together with the shrieks of 
 frightened women as they crossed the galleries pursued 
 by the invaders. Groans and cries might everywhere 
 be heard, together with blows and prayers for mercy. 
 The few wretches who remained in the tower had no 
 time to save themselves. The people rushed up there 
 furiously, and with their usual impulsive ideas of justice, 
 threw them, one after another, down the castle rock, so 
 as to break every bone in their bodies. 
 
 Pelagnia, w^io was mshing madly about the house,
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 15 
 
 was seized, together with five of his satellites, and tied 
 in a chain with them. Some of the people wished to 
 hurl them headlong from the tower ; others to drop 
 them into the lake with a stone round their necks ; 
 some advised hanging, and others burying alive with 
 the head downward. This last proving the favourite 
 idea, some of the mob ran off to fetch pickaxes and 
 spades, and began to prepare some large holes in front 
 of the church. 
 
 The wretched steward, white as a sheet, with his gi'ey 
 hair standing stiffly upright on his head, staring, vacant 
 eyes, his ashy lips trembling, and his teeth chattering, 
 kept repeating mechanically, in a weak, uncertain voice, 
 " Confession, confession ! " 
 
 " Oh ! you heretic dog ! I will confess you with this," 
 cried Stefanolo, the young fellow who had been so noisy 
 before, and had since been one of the most vehement of 
 the actors in this scene. And, as he spoke, he rushed 
 up with a cudgel, which he was in the act of bringing 
 down on the steward's head, when the shepherd, who 
 happened to be near, seized hold of his hand. 
 
 " What are you thinking of ? " he said. " Are we 
 to be worse than Turks ? " Let him be confessed, if 
 he wishes." 
 
 "And who is there to confess him?" said the 
 other. 
 
 " Who ? If there is no one else, there's the friar 
 who came to say mass ; he's still in the church, but 
 dares not come out." 
 
 " That fellow ! He is an excommunicated heretic, 
 and cannot confess." 
 
 " Let's find some one else then — his reverence " 
 (meaning the parish priest) . 
 
 ■' And how is one to find him, driven away as 
 he has been by these rascals ? And besides, we are 
 still under the interdict, and no one can confess now — 
 not even he." 
 
 "At the point of death it can be done, and he lias 
 confessed others, don't you remember Tona della Ca- 
 setta, and Giorgio del Mulino ? "
 
 16 MARCO yiSCONTI. 
 
 " Well, well ; but these rogues are not at the point of 
 death." 
 
 "Yes they are." " No, they aren't." Some declared on 
 one side, and some on the other, and then the clamour 
 was terrific. " Yes, they can be confessed." " No, 
 they can't." After they had gone on for some time in 
 this manner, a voice was heard which settled the 
 question in a way that quieted the crowd. " Directly 
 they are confessed," it said, " we'll make an end of 
 them ; so that they may fairly be called at the point of 
 death." "Yes, that's true; and now to find his 
 reverence." " And where is he ? " " Last night he 
 slept at the boatman's." " Let's have the boatman." 
 " Yes Michael ; where's Michael ? " No one had seen 
 him all that day. " I saw Michael going to Como with 
 his son yesterday evening," said one of the crowd. 
 " But he must have returned, for a little while ago I 
 saw his boat turning the point of Bellagio," added 
 another. " To the boatman's house, quick, quick, run 
 somebody ! " cried many voices. 
 
 The boatman's hut was situated on the shore of the 
 lake at the mouth of a little torrent called Auccio, about 
 half-a-mile from Limonta towards Bellagio. The shep- 
 herd, who had undertaken to find the priest, met him on 
 the road, in company with the two boatmen, father and 
 son, and a third person. Lupo, the falconer's son, all 
 three just arrived from Como. 
 
 The vicar, a good old man, who carried his years 
 lightly, was hastily ascending the steep mountain path 
 in front of the others, when turning a corner of the 
 rock suddenly, he looked up and saw above him the man 
 who was coming down to fetch him. He then stopped 
 abruptly, and called out, " Griammatteo " (the goat- 
 herd's name), " what is this great disturbance about, 
 down at Limonta ? One would think the world was 
 coming to an end." 
 
 "Your reverence," panted the man, quite out of 
 breath, " come as quickly as you can ; no one but you 
 can do anything ; make haste, they have taken the palace 
 of the monastery, and are playing the devil there ; they
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 17 
 
 want to murder tlie steward and his men ; make haste 
 for God's sake ;" and the priest hastened away. 
 
 Directly his brown cowl appeared at the square they 
 all began to cry, " Here's his reverence!" and, hasten- 
 ing to meet him, they proposed to him, as a matter of 
 course, to confess Pelagrna and his followers at once, 
 because they wished to kill them. The good man had 
 need of all the authority which his ministry gave him — 
 of all the affection won by a long life spent for the good 
 of his people, and of the fresh glory he had acquired 
 from his persecutions — to dissuade these madmen from 
 their desperate resolve. 
 
 What helped most to calm their boihng passions was 
 the news that soon spread through the crowd, that Lupo 
 had come, ready to fight for his country against the 
 champion of the monastery. The crowd immediately 
 pressed round the falconer's son, who implored them to 
 cease from shedding blood, and remain quiet, and to 
 trust to him. Meanwhile the priest entered the 
 steward's house and managed, after a while, to persuade 
 those who had remained there to pillage, to go quietly 
 away. When he had settled matters in the outer court, 
 he passed into the interior of the house, where, fancying 
 he heard a faint cry from above, he went up a wooden 
 staircase, till he came to a door on the landing. On 
 looking through a crevice into the room, he saw, close 
 to one of the side walls, a woman on the ground with 
 dishevelled hair, holding a child tightly to her bosom, 
 and striving to stop its cries with her hand. He recog- 
 nized her at once as PelagTua's wife, and knocked 
 gently at the door, whispering at the same time, " I am 
 the priest. Open the door, for all is quiet." The poor 
 mother started so suddenly at the first sound that she 
 removed her hand from the child's mouth, who uttered 
 a sharp cry, which was stifled in a moment ; but when 
 the priest went on to say, " Do not be afraid, it is I, all 
 is over ! " she sprang up, and turning a large key, opened 
 the door, and showed herself with the baby in her arms 
 to her deliverer. 
 
 " Oh ! God has sent you ! " said the poor creature, 
 C
 
 18 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 trembling all over. " He will reward you : not for my 
 sake, but for the sake of my poor little angel," and so 
 saying, she caught hold of the priest's clothes and kissed 
 them and bathed them with tears in a delirium of joy and 
 gratitude. " And my husband ? " she asked anxiously. 
 
 " He is safe," said the priest, and went on : " It will 
 not do for you to be seen about here ; go out that way," 
 and pointed to a secret entrance, which opened on the 
 left towards the mountain. " Take the path that leads 
 to the castle, and beg the Count, in my name, to take 
 you in for the night." 
 
 " Oh ! but he will refuse, for " 
 
 " Well, show yourself to Ermelinda, tell her — but there 
 is no need to tell her anything. You want help, the 
 Countess will welcome you eagerly, you may be sure. 
 Go, in Grod's name." 
 
 The woman departed, and the vicar returned to the 
 square, where the crowd still surrounded the falconer's 
 son. 
 
 " Listen ! " he called out. " "We must take care that 
 everything is done rightly and in the proper forms, so 
 that we cannot be found fault with by the Archbishop's 
 official and by the lawyers, who have more quibbles and 
 tricks at their fingers' ends than haii's on their heads. 
 We must take your votes, and all assemble here to nomi- 
 nate as your champion this good fellow, whom God has 
 sent to us." 
 
 Presently the sacristan of the parish came out on a 
 platform in front of the church, and began to beat, with 
 two little hammers, on a machine composed of a bronze 
 plate, set in the middle of a square table, producing a 
 sharp sound in a kind of cadence, alternately fast and 
 slow. This was a summons to the scene of action, and 
 the machine was called majola, perhaps from malleus, 
 the hammer with which it was struck, or more probably 
 from viallum, the assembly which congregated at the 
 sound. The people assembled, the question was put, 
 and the votes given. Lupo, as may be guessed, met 
 with no opposition, and was proclaimed unanimously by 
 the whole neighbourhood the Champion of Limonta.
 
 MARCO yfSCONTI. 19 
 
 Owing to the interval which had already elapsed, and 
 the new interests which occupied their minds, the first 
 outburst of anger and desire for vengeance had subsided, 
 and the multitude, new to bloodshed, began now to 
 experience the reaction naturally resulting from their 
 late proceedings. They now desired to leave the place, 
 to withdraw from the sight of so many witnesses, and to 
 conceal, in the tranquillity of their own homes, the part 
 they had taken in an outbreak, which they now clearly 
 foresaw would recoil on the perpetrators, so that they 
 slunk off quietly, like whipped curs, in different direc- 
 tions, and in a few minutes all was solitude and silence. 
 But, notwithstanding this, Pelagraa would not trust 
 himself to remain in the country, which was getting too 
 hot for him, so he went down to the shore of the lake, 
 and, finding a boat, entered it with a few of his followers, 
 and as many of his household as had escaped from the 
 massacre, without waiting to be rejoined by his wife and' 
 child, who he learnt had taken refuge in the Count's 
 castle. As he left the shore he looked back at Limonta, 
 and cursed the place, swearing to return before long 
 with the Abbot's forces to take his revenge. 
 
 But the Abbot, having heard from a messenger of the 
 whole proceeding, flew into a rage with the steward 
 himself, and finding he had gone to Varenna, sent him a 
 m.ost insulting letter, threatening to deprive him of his 
 office, and saying he would make him nie his cowardice, 
 in allowing himself to be beaten by a handful of clowns, 
 and di'iven fi*om the district in so disgraceful a manner. 
 As to the poor people of Limonta, I need not say that 
 the Abbot vowed summary vengeance upon them. But 
 even the great cannot always do as they like. In those 
 turbulent times the prelate had to keep his eyes and 
 hands employed in different places at once, and could 
 not bring together at a moment's notice the forces 
 necessary for his purpose. He, therefore, pretended to 
 do nothing, and let matters take their course, until he 
 knew the issue of the pending trial at Bollano, which, 
 he felt sure, would render these mountaineers more 
 helpless than before, and put them irrevocably in his
 
 20 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 power, reserving to himself, however, in any event, the 
 privilege of falling upon them if necessary on the first 
 opportunity. 
 
 Lupo now went off at once to the castle of Count 
 Oldrado, where he had been born, and where he ex- 
 pected an affectionate welcome, not only from his parents, 
 but from all the inmates of the place. The news had 
 already arrived of his appearance in Limonta, and of 
 the efforts he had made to appease the furious riot that 
 was going on there. Yet, although many had wished 
 to do so, no one went out to meet him, because the 
 Count, who, at the first rumour of the outbreak, had 
 locked his gates and let down the portcullis, to guard 
 against any attack, would not hear of anyone stirring 
 out till all was quiet. There was really no necessity 
 for this, for although he was not so popular in the 
 neighbourhood as his ancestors had been, there was still 
 so much reverence felt for his name that no one would 
 dare to utter a word against him or any of his belongings. 
 
 Admitted at last within the walls, the falconer's son 
 was greeted by all in the castle with the utmost joy 
 and delight, especially as it was five years since he had 
 been seen in those parts. His father and mother snatched 
 him one fi'om the other to embrace him over and over 
 again, whilst on all sides questions were poured upon 
 him as to his affairs ; and countless blessings were 
 showered upon him. Cou^nt Oldrado — though by no 
 means displeased that the poor Limontese had found some 
 one to take their part, and especially one who was clearly 
 a match for the champion of the monastery — would, 
 however, at any other time have restrained himself from 
 evincing his delight, in order not to appear to disagree 
 with the Abbot, who was the strongest of the two ; but 
 just then the people of Limonta had also shown their 
 teeth and were nearer to him than the Abbot. His 
 timid disposition, therefore, led him to make some 
 demonstrations in their favour, es^jecially as at the 
 entreaty of his wife and daughter he had given an asylum 
 to PelagTua's wife and child, and was now alarmed lest 
 the mountaineers should take offence at this act of kind-
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 21 
 
 ness. These reasons caused him to give our Lupo a 
 most hearty welcome, and the caresses he showered on 
 him quite astounded and confused the recipient. They 
 were, however, quite sincere ; for the new-bom appre- 
 hensions of the Count had removed the restraints arising 
 from his former fears in respect of his reception of the 
 young retainer, who was now on many accounts so 
 precious to him. 
 
 Meanwhile, Ermelinda, the Count's wife, was sitting 
 in a room on the ground-floor reading the gospel of the 
 day to her daughter Beatrice, and a young maiden who 
 attended on them, by name Lauretta, the daughter of 
 the falconer. It was her custom to do this every Sun- 
 day, now that, on account of the interdict, they could 
 not attend service in the parish church. She read in 
 Latin, which at that time was still understood through- 
 out Italy, much as Tuscan is in the present day ; that 
 is to say, in proportion to each person's culture and 
 education. 
 
 They were all three sitting together at a small table. 
 Ermelinda was not above forty years old ; tall and 
 stately, and of a majestic and pleasing expression. Her 
 face was pale and colourless, and her eyes were too 
 often cast down, as if oppressed by some former sorrow 
 which had never been shaken off. 
 
 Beatrice was the exact image of her mother, with the 
 same beauty of feature, the same elegance in her form, 
 the same expression in her face and eyes ; but all in her 
 was set off by the fresh beauty of the springtide of life, 
 and enhanced by a sense of happiness and by that 
 mysterious essence that exhales from the soul as yet 
 ignorant of the misfortunes of life, and scarcely, so to 
 speak, conscious of its own existence. 
 
 When the mother had finished reading, she shut the 
 book, and said to the attendant, " Will you go and see 
 if there is anything that poor woman is in need of ? " 
 
 Lauretta went out, and soon returned to say that she 
 was provided with all that she required, and was now 
 recovered from her great anxiety. She sent the Countess 
 her thanks and blessing, and a request to be sent with
 
 22 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 her cliild to the jilace where her hnshand had taken 
 refuge. 
 
 " You told her," said Ermelinda, " that I advise her 
 for her own good to stay here till the evening, when I 
 will have her escorted to Varenna ? " 
 
 " I told her so," said the maiden, " and she soon ac- 
 quiesced, and said that she would always pray the Lord 
 to bless you and yonr house." 
 
 " May God have mercy on her ! " said Ermelinda ; 
 " she was always a gentle and good woman, and did not 
 deserve to have such a husband;" and she repeated 
 with a sigh, " the Lord have mercy on her ! " 
 
 Here a knock was heard at the door, and the Count 
 entered, leading the falconer's son, and presented him 
 to his wife and danghter, saying : " Here is our good 
 Lupo, who has come to defend the cause of Limonta." 
 
 Ermelinda and Beatrice received him with dignified 
 but kindly courtesy ; but Lauretta, as soon as she saw 
 the long-desired face of her favourite brother, whom she 
 had not set eyes on for several years, could not control 
 the first impulses of affection ; so, running to meet 
 him, she threw her arms round his neck, and held him 
 tightly for a few minutes without speaking ; then 
 drawing back for an instant, she blushed deeply, and 
 smiling, half with shyness, half with vexation, said in a 
 ti"embling voice, " What a silly girl I am ! I am so 
 pleased to see you, and yet I cannot help crying."
 
 MAPCO VISCONTI 23 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 IT was the day appointed for tlie trial by battle. A 
 company of Crivello's soldiers kept back tlie crowd 
 with, difficulty, on the Piazza di San Giorgio at Bellano, 
 round an open space in the centre, whence came a 
 mingled noise of saws, hammers, and the voices of 
 workmen who were putting up the barricades as fast 
 as they could. 
 
 On the left, looking down the square towards the 
 lake, stands the Archbishop's Palace, a long edifice 
 built of rough-hewn stones, with pointed windows, 
 divided down the centre by light columns of black 
 Varenna marble. On the right hand, and in front were 
 several thatched cottages, and in the rear was the 
 church, then dedicated to St. George, with pointed 
 arches in front and a large rose window full of tracery 
 in the centre, while between the window and the door 
 was a stone statue representing the patron saint on 
 horseback in the act of piercing with his lance the well- 
 known dragon. On each side were two statues, one of 
 St. Christopher, with the infant Jesus on his shoulder, 
 the other of St. Anthony with a bell suspended to the 
 top of a staff ; both the work of great sculptors, who 
 swarmed in Italy at that time — figures of vast dimen- 
 sions covering nearly half the front of the church ; con- 
 ventional representations of God and the Saints, accord- 
 ing to the custom of the time, as if the artist was attempt- 
 ing to indicate supernatural power by supernatural size. 
 
 The church door was wide open, and, inside, a swarm 
 of armed retainers were surging to and fro, clad in all 
 m^anner of garbs ; waifs and strays got together in 
 fi'enzied haste by Cressone Crivello, who had summoned 
 all the estates and castles in his possession to equip and 
 send to him forthwith all the men-at-ai-ms that they
 
 24 MAECO VISCONTI. 
 
 were bound to furnish according to the terms of feudal 
 investiture. This exti-aordinary display of force had 
 been made on account of the rumours that had reached 
 him of the revolt of the people of Limonta ; he fearing 
 lest besides these insurgents vpho had assembled to 
 witness the trial by battle, the Bellano people might be 
 inclined to give some trouble, suffering themselves also 
 severely from the yoke imposed on them by the usurper. 
 
 In order to get a better idea of what type of people 
 these were, we will repeat a dialogue that took place in 
 the church, between a chamois hunter from Pagnona, a 
 village on the high lands of Legnone, and a baker from 
 Mandello, a large town on the shores of the lake, in the 
 direction of Lecco. The hunter wore a leaden-coloured 
 doublet of mixed material, which came down nearly to 
 his knees ; a pair of tight-fitting pantaloons reaching to 
 his ankles ; his feet were cased in wooden shoes, fastened 
 with string, the soles of which were shod with long iron 
 spikes, used by mountaineers to prevent themselves from 
 slipping when running along the tops of the mountains 
 or at the edge of formidable precipices. A flask and a 
 drinking horn were slung over his shoulders, and he 
 carried on his back an ashen bow with some arrows 
 tied to the string. The baker wore a jerkin of white 
 cloth, with tight sleeves fastened at the wrists with 
 brass buttons, a gaberdine trimmed with bearskin, a 
 square cap on his head, and a rusty dagger by his side. 
 
 This latter personage was standing with one shoulder 
 leaning against the holy-water basin, listening to the 
 babble that was going on around, when, seeing the 
 hunter passing close to him, he laid his hand on his 
 shoulder and said — 
 
 " Holloa ! friend Lorenzo, are you too at Bellano ? " 
 
 " Certainly I am ; why not ? That animal. Crivello, 
 won't let one be quiet a minute, bad luck to him ! " 
 
 " For heaven's sake be quiet ; don't you know that's 
 language forbidden by statute ? You'll be fined ten 
 francs or else get a taste of the rope's end." 
 
 " Oh, tell the statutes to come after us to Legnone, 
 and we'll settle that matter ! "
 
 MAECO TISCONTI. 25 
 
 " But how came you here ? " asked the Mandello man, 
 "you who have not a rood of land, nor a roof to your 
 head. Tou are come as a substitute, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Yes, for our parish priest ; he holds his living on 
 condition of paying tithes, and of serving in the Arch- 
 bishop's guard four days a year ; but now that the 
 Archbishop is gone, there is not a soul in the country 
 who can endure the notion of going to serve those 
 excommunicated scoundrels. Crivello swears that he 
 will take the priest's glebe away, and worse than that ; 
 so the poor wretch has to dodge about in order to com- 
 ply vrith the summons ; now paying one man as a sub- 
 stitute, now another. This time he has tried it on with 
 me, and as there are no chamois left, and still fewer 
 bears, what had I to do at home ? So I said to myself, 
 ' Let's go and have a look at this fighting match, the 
 like of which has never been seen this many a year ; ' 
 and so here I am." 
 
 " I am here on my own account," said the baker. 
 " You know I hold that little house of mine at a quit- 
 rent of four days' armed service a year. Please God 
 this is the last of them, and my papers will prove that ; 
 and if this fine master of ours means to go on as he did 
 all last year, and obKge us to be under arms for ever, I 
 don't mean to stand it ; and already every one at Man- 
 dello declares they won't bear it any more, and there 
 will be a slight unpleasantness, as there has been just 
 now at Limonta." 
 
 " It's true then, is it, that the people of Limonta have 
 been up in arms ? " 
 
 " Indeed they have ; they have murdered Pelagrua, 
 and set the monastery buildings on fire." 
 
 " Well done, indeed ! " exclaimed the hunter. 
 
 " Yes ; but now they say that the Abbot of San 
 Ambrogio is as furious as a Turk, and swears by all the 
 saints that he will pay them out handsomely." 
 
 " There's many a slip between the cup and the lip ; 
 the matter has to be settled here before the regular 
 tribunals. If the Limontese champion gets the best 
 of it, I should like to see anyone meddle with him.
 
 26 MARCO VISCONTI, 
 
 Ton would have the valide of the Lake of Como in 
 revolt." 
 
 " You are very young, friend Lorenzo," interrupted 
 the baker. " You don't yet know that reason is always 
 on the side of counts and lords, and rags and tatters 
 go to the wall." 
 
 "But here, you see, we are all of one mind," urged 
 the hunter. 
 
 "All of one mind! What a ridiculous idea! Do 
 you see those forty lances up in the square ? Who do 
 you think could touch them ? All armed cap-a-pie, so 
 that you could make no more impression on them than 
 on a stone; and a resolute set they are, and ready to 
 run all risks for anyone who will pay them, if it were 
 the devil himself." 
 
 " But what would you say about us ? " 
 " Why, here we all are, a useless crowd, of no more 
 account than a lot of scarecrows, and they keep us shut 
 up in church, as you see, for fear we should go roam- 
 ing about, making common cause with the Bellano folk ; 
 but, however, if we got the chance to bowl these fellows 
 over, do you suppose we should not do our part as 
 well ? " 
 
 " Certainly we should," answered the mountaineer 
 resolutely. 
 
 " Bravo, bravo ! " rejoined the baker, smiling. " I 
 told you you were a young greenhorn ; and what's more, 
 if to-day the Mandello people, for instance, were to 
 keep the Bellano folk to their bargain, to-morrow, so to 
 speak, Bellano would come to Mandello, and do the 
 same to us. To-day I am the stick, as the saying is, 
 and you are the ass ; to-morrow you are the stick and 
 I am the ass ; but the driver who whacked us to-day 
 will repeat the dose to-morrow, and next day, and the 
 day after, aud so on to all eternity, so long as the world 
 lasts." 
 
 Here the conversation was interrupted by the ap- 
 proach of one of Crivello's forty lancers, who was 
 pacing up and down amongst the rustic -soldiery to 
 keep them in order.
 
 MARCO TISCOXTI. 27 
 
 Meanwhile in tlie great hall of tlie Arclibisliop's 
 palace there were assembling lords, knights, and castel- 
 lains, ladies and high-born damsels from the castles 
 and fortified places all round the lake vying with each 
 other in the beauty and magnificence of their dress and 
 appointments, and in the number and splendour of their 
 respective retainers. 
 
 A long room, opening into the hall, was swarming 
 with pages, valets, and squires, while the vast court 
 re-echoed the tramping of the horses, the banning of the 
 hounds, and the shouting of the retainers. 
 
 One might easily question the advantage of these feudal 
 lords travelling about with such trains of servants, and 
 especially horses, through a small strip of country between 
 the lake and a steep rocky mountain — a country utterly 
 inaccessible except by boat or by narrow hill-paths. 
 But such is the way of the world ; a retinue is needed 
 often merely for show, and to enhance the riches and 
 magnificence of the owners to the lookers-on. 
 
 The other rooms of the vast building, along the front 
 facing the square, were crowded with people of infeinor 
 rank, who were there either as retainers of some lord, 
 or as friends of some squire or equerry, or by means of 
 a silver key adroitly slipped into the hand of a sentry, 
 and thence transferred to his pocket for safer custody. 
 
 Together with the cavahers and noble ladies, there 
 passed into the privileged hall the respective advocates 
 of the monastery of San Ambrogio and Limonta. They 
 were each habited in a long robe of violet-coloured silk, 
 with a red hood lined with ermine, the point reaching 
 down to their heels. But the Limontese advocate did 
 not, Hke his opponent, hold in his hand the silver mace, 
 an honour reserved specially for those who defended 
 the rights of hospitals, monasteries, and other ecclesi- 
 astical bodies. 
 
 With the advocate of Limonta walked Ottorino Vis- 
 conti, Lupo's master, who had promised the squire to 
 come to Bellano on the day of the trial. He was a 
 graceful knight of about twenty- six years old ; and we 
 must trespass a while on our reader's attention in a
 
 28 MARCO TISCONTI. 
 
 description of him, for lie will play a great part in the 
 following narrative. 
 
 Ottorino Visconti was the son of Uberto Visconti, 
 the brother of Magno Matteo, and cousin of Galeazzo 
 the First, who had died the year before our story begins. 
 Ottorino was, therefore, also the cousin of Marco, Lu- 
 chino, and Giovanni, the other three surviving brothers, 
 all sons of Matteo. 
 
 The noble boy was hardly old enough to wear a 
 cuirass when he placed himself under the command of 
 his cousin Marco, then a man in the prime of life, and 
 celebrated as one of the boldest condottieri in Italy. 
 He had practised the military calling under the eyes of 
 that great captain, by whom he was loved as a son, 
 received at his hands the military belt, and eagerly 
 followed his banner. 
 
 Our hero was richly dressed in crimson velvet, with 
 an azure mantle, embroidered in silver and lined with 
 sable ; a large gold chain went twice round his neck and 
 fell on his chest. From under a hat of the same colour 
 as his mantle, escaped, in graceful ringlets, a quantity 
 of black locks flowing over his shoulders, and a white 
 feather, which drooped from his hat, formed a striking- 
 contrast with the colour of his hair. His bright eyes 
 shone with a tempered fire, his face was slightly sun- 
 burnt ; he was tall, with well-proportioned limbs, reso- 
 lute and haughty in every gesture and movement. 
 
 Lorenzo Garbagnate, the advocate of Limonta, was 
 relating to him the late events at that place, and the 
 honourable part his squire Lupo had taken in them, 
 and the story made the young knight's heart glow with 
 pleasure. 
 
 The conversation then turning on Count Oldrado and 
 his family, Ottorino asked after Beatrice, whom he had 
 known as a child at her father's castle, and the advocate 
 told him what a beautiful creature she had become in 
 the last few years. 
 
 " And is it true that she is so like her mother ? " 
 asked the youth. 
 
 "As like as two drops of water; but you will see
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 29 
 
 "her to-day, as I hear lier fatber is to bring her to see 
 the dueL" 
 
 " And at what hour will the trial begin ? " 
 
 " Six hours after sun-rise, unless some fresh difficulties 
 arise, which I rather apprehend." 
 
 " What difficulties can arise ? Is not everything ar- 
 ranged ? ' ' 
 
 " Yes, but this interdict complicates even'thing. 
 Crivello's deputy has arrested the parish priest for re- 
 fusing to bless the arms. The priest protests he had 
 rather suffer martyrdom than incur excommunication, 
 and as his persecutor is equally obstinate, the affair 
 threatens to be serious." 
 
 " But can't they find some other priest ? " 
 
 " Who would take this burden on himself ? The 
 Vicar of Limonto was here just now with Lupo, but 
 when he heard the turn things were taking, he slipped 
 off through the crowd." 
 
 " Why, what is this new disturbance ? " said Otto- 
 rino, turning to look at the company, who were crowd- 
 ing from all parts of the hall round a man in the centre, 
 who had just arrived. 
 
 " It must be some minstrel," said Grarbagnate, and so 
 it turned out to be. It was a man in a fantastic dress, 
 with two rows of silver bells on his doublet, hosen, and 
 mantle, with a funnel-shaped hat on his head, also 
 surrounded with bells. He earned a lute on his shoul- 
 ders, and as he began to touch the chords he accom- 
 panied the sounds wath the most ridiculous antics, which 
 caused great merriment. 
 
 " Tremacoldo, Tremacoldo ! " exclaimed the knights 
 and ladies. He was a famous minstrel, well known at 
 fairs and tourneys, as well as at the courts of every 
 prince in Italy, and, in short, wherever people were 
 assembled together. He knew a thousand tricks and 
 jests ; he h;id at his fingers' ends all sorts of fantas- 
 tic games ; he told the newest jokes, the finest stories, 
 and sang the poetry of the most celebrated trouba- 
 dours of that day, himself not amongst the least of 
 them.
 
 30 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 " Tremacoldo," cried many voices, " sing ' The Priso- 
 ner's Lament.' Yes, ' The Swallow.' " 
 
 " No," said another, " sing the last ballad you composed 
 when you fell among thieves." 
 
 " Well, which will you have ? " asked the minstrel. 
 
 " The last." 
 
 " No, no ; the other." 
 
 " ' The Swallow,' then." 
 
 " Yes, ' The Swallow.' " 
 
 Then Tremacoldo, after a pathetic prelude on the 
 lute, began : — 
 
 Swallow, ever wand'ring swallow, 
 
 Alighting near my cell, 
 Where, day by day, thy plaintive lay 
 
 Dost, soi't recerding, tell, 
 What would'st thou in thy song declare, 
 
 AVand'ring pilgrim of the air ? 
 
 In drear oblivion, sad, alone, 
 Left by thy cruel mate, 
 
 But suddenly his audience, so closely gathered round 
 him, broke up, and left him on the appearance of a new 
 attraction. Beatrice, the Count di Balzo's daughter, 
 entered the hall at that moment, holding her father's 
 hand. While Ottorino embraced his former host, and 
 bowed with chivalrous courtesy to the young lady, 
 Tremacoldo, irritated against the new arrivals, who 
 had scattered his listeners, came forward angrily to 
 throw at them some sharp word, and to transfer to them 
 the contempt he thought they had brought on him ; for in 
 those times — when the nobles were so far above all 
 else, and were so disdainful and so thin-skinned that 
 woe to anyone who provoked them — in those times we 
 say, the minstrels and buffoons were privileged people, 
 to whom every kind of liberty of speech and action was 
 accorded, and insulting sarcasms allowed, which would 
 not pass without bloodshed between knights. 
 
 So Tremacoldo came forward in the mood we have 
 described ; but when he saw Beatrice passing by in all her 
 beauty, he was appeased at once, and turning the affair
 
 MAECO TISCONTI. 31 
 
 into a compliment to her, without, however, sparing his 
 nnappreciative audience, he said : — 
 
 " It is quite right that owls should be silent when the 
 sun appears ; but that instead of hiding themselves, 
 they should flj to meet its beams, is a thing I have 
 never seen before ; ' ' and there was a hearty laugh at this 
 heavy joke. 
 
 This maiden at sixteen was like a rose opening in 
 all its freshness and fragrance to the first rays of a 
 lovely dewy morning. A long blue dress, confined at 
 the waist by a silver chain which fell to her knees, 
 repeated the colour of her eyes, but was far from rival- 
 ling the ethereal azure, the soft and languid brightness 
 of those orbs. The mass of her fair hair, soft and 
 shining as spun gold, only covered by a wreath com- 
 posed of flowers, alternately of silver and blue, fell in 
 a shower, waving over her neck and shoulders rich and 
 fragrant, down to the border of her flowing robe. 
 
 The expression of the damsel's face was a mixed one; 
 there was much natural sweetness and candour ; but 
 there was also a slight shade of self-will, a faint tinge of 
 fastidious coyness, which, coupled with soft pride, added 
 a certain charm and fascination to the rare nobility of 
 her countenance. 
 
 This vision of beauty advanced into the middle of the 
 hall, having on the one side her father, on the other 
 Ottorino ; and a low murmui", a whisjoer of admiration 
 accompanied her on her way. She saw all faces turned 
 on her, she was deafened by the buzzing of voices, 
 which had recommenced around ; she partly heard, 
 and partly guessed the words used by the crowd, and 
 lowei'ing her eyelids timidly, blushed very deeply. But 
 what were her feelings, when the minstrel, bending one 
 knee before her, and raising his hat, proclaimed her in 
 a loud voice, Queen of Beauty and Love ! The girl, 
 frightened and confused, and feeling overpowered with 
 bashfulness and shyness, pressed close to her father, 
 and implored him by signs that he would take her away 
 — that he would silence that dreadful man. But the 
 Count del Balzo, who was revelling in his daughter's
 
 32 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 triumph, far from listening to her entreaties, made her 
 take her seat at the higher end of the hall, sat down 
 on her right hand, and motioned to Ottorino to place 
 himself on the other side, and after he had responded 
 politely to the kind reception given him by the company 
 assembled, he turned with lordly condescension to the 
 minstrel, and, excusing himself for having interrupted 
 the song by his arrival, begged him to continue. 
 
 " I will sing something else," said Tremacoldo ; and 
 leaning his head on his hand, he walked slowly twice or 
 thrice up and down the space left in the middle of the 
 hall, whilst his hearers disposed themselves round him; 
 then, raising his head, he began to sing the praises of 
 Beatrice. After having compared the girl to the lily of 
 the valley, to the rose of Jericlio, to the cedar of Lebanon 
 — after having placed her above all the beautiful sul- 
 tanas, the ornaments of the harems of Egypt and Persia, 
 and the noble dames and princesses the most praised in 
 the songs of the provincial troubadours — he likened her 
 to Madonna Laura, for whom the verses of Petrarch 
 were then preparing a fame which, after five centuries, 
 is still green and flourish ing as ever ; and promised to 
 the Como beauty some songs from the poet of the Lady 
 of Avignon, who, although he was not then more than 
 twenty-five years old, was already celebrated through all 
 Italy as the first of poets. Finally, turning towards the 
 yoiing knight who sat beside the maiden, he praised his 
 race, his manners, his courage, and concluded by saying 
 that the damsel suited him as a gem would a ring. 
 
 The minstrel w^as often interrupted by signs of an 
 admiration so passionate that it could not be controlled, 
 but must find vent in applause, though manifestly un- 
 suitable and troublesome. At the end of the song, when 
 all restraint was taken off the increasing enthusiasm, it 
 appeared that the excitement not only filled the great 
 hall, but also even the other room, v.'hence the squires 
 and attendants had crowded to the door to hear the 
 troubadour. 
 
 Ottoi'ino sprang to his feet, and taking from his neck 
 the chain he wore, he presented it wdth a chivalrous
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 33 
 
 gesture to the singer, who, after returning thanks for 
 the gift, twisted tlie chain round his hat, gave a leap in 
 the air, and recommenced playing his lute. 
 
 In the meantime. Count Oldrado, catcliing sight of 
 Garbagnate at the other end of the hall, said to his 
 daughter, " I will return in a moment," and ran towards 
 the advocate, to ask him the hour when the trial would 
 begin. But the girl, who found herself alone, with all 
 eyes fixed on her, rose shyly and timidly fi-om her seat, 
 and approached a window looking on the Piazza, where 
 she hoped to breathe a little more at her ease, and to 
 recover herself in some degree. She was also encouraged 
 by being soon joined by Ottorino, who, among so many 
 strangers, as the friend of her father, the companion of 
 her lost brother, and one with whom she had formerly 
 been on such intimate, and even aifectionate terms as a 
 child, became at that trying moment a support, and a 
 kind guardian. 
 
 To make matters better, the crowd so much dreaded 
 by the damsel had returned to listen to Tremacoldo, 
 who was beginning another song ; so by degrees she 
 felt her tremors vanish. But, however, though the 
 first painful feelings of fright were disappearing, there 
 arose within her another sensation — a sensation of true 
 modesty, a kind of terror at finding herself, for the first 
 time, thus in company with a man who was not her 
 father ; so turning frequently in the direction of the 
 Count, who was walking about the hall with Garbagnate, 
 she beckoned to him to return to her ; but he, deep in 
 discussion, with his head full of church law, and popes, 
 and decretals, only signed to her with his hand that he 
 was coming, and came none the more for that. 
 
 In the meantime, Ottorino began speaking to the 
 young lady vsdth respectful and courteous ease, of the 
 time they had passed together at the Castle of Limouta, 
 when she was still a child. He reminded her of her 
 games, her studies, her pleasures, and the small passions 
 and trials of her childhood — -that time when everything 
 appears blight to those who look back upon it. Thus 
 Beatrice began to feel reassured in the society of the 
 
 D
 
 34 MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 young knight ; and the terror which she had felt at first 
 was swallowed up in the agreeable excitement of the 
 conversation. She turned less frequently to watch for 
 her father's return, and when she did look for him it 
 Avas not with her former uneasy and frightened ex- 
 pression. 
 
 As to the youth, a secret feeling of pride made the 
 society he was in extremely agreeable to him. Every- 
 one had admired the maiden ; the most distinguished 
 young nobles of the country had coveted a word or a 
 look from her ; and he was the only one who she was 
 wilKng to have near her, and to whom she spoke with 
 confiding ease, as to a friend. 
 
 Thus, at the first meeting of Ottorino and Beatrice, 
 after a long term of years, the sense of support she found 
 in his presence and the charm he found in her, con- 
 tributed largely to increase the fraternal affection they 
 felt for each other, and to create in their hearts the 
 germ of another sort of love, which took the place of 
 the former feeling. 
 
 A trumpet gave warning that the ordeal was about 
 to commence. The minstrel ceased his song, and his 
 audience hastened to take their places in the balconies. 
 Count Balzo joined his daughter, who remained stand- 
 ing between Ottorino and her father.
 
 MAKCO YISCONTI. 35 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 AT tlie extreme corner of tlie fa9ade of the Archbishop's 
 palace, looking towards the mountain, there pro- 
 jected a platform, or, to use the Gei'man term, a lobby, 
 which was the place for the judges to sit and pronounce 
 sentence. The eyes of all the people collected at the 
 windows, on the roofs, and in the square, were turned 
 to this point, and fixed on the three individuals who 
 occupied this important position. 
 
 " Who are they? " asked Beatrice of her father. 
 
 " The judge is sitting in the middle," answered the 
 Count; " of the other two standing up, the one on his 
 right with the silver mace is the advocate of the monas- 
 tery ; the other you know — Garbagnate, the advocate of 
 Limonta." 
 
 The trumpet sounded again to enforce silence ; and 
 then the advocate of the monastery, turning to the 
 judge, said in a clear voice, which was heard all over the 
 square: " Do you admit that you sit as deputy of the 
 illustrious and magnificent noble, Cressone Crivello, in 
 order to decide the strife between the monastery of San 
 Ambrogio and the men of Limonta ?" To which the 
 judge replied solemnly, " I admit it." Then the first 
 speaker continued : "I protest before you that the men 
 of Limonta are serfs of the monastery of San Ambro- 
 gio." Garbagnate answered : " And I oppose the pre- 
 scriptive right of a century to the claim of the plaintiff." 
 The judge then gave sentence as follows : " Both sides 
 have offered to produce witnesses ready to testify to the 
 truth of their assertions ; but not being willing to give 
 opportunity for perjury, we, by virtue of the archiepis- 
 copal and royal authority committed to us, have decreed 
 that the contending parties shall have recourse to the 
 judgment oJc God, by means of the duel with clubs and
 
 36 MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 shields." Turning then to the advocate of the plaintiff : 
 " Do you acknowledge Ramengo da Casale as the 
 champion of the monastery of San Ambrogio ? " — to 
 which he replied : " I do acknowledge it." " And you," 
 he asked Grarbagnate ; " do you acknowledge Lupo of 
 Limonta as the champion of his countrymen, the Limon- 
 tese ?" "I acknowledge it," he answered. 
 
 " Now pay attention," said the Count Oldi^ado to his 
 daughter. 
 
 Each of the two advocates then took up a large and 
 knotty cudgel, and, coming before the judgment seat, 
 exchanged weapons as a sign of mutual acceptance of 
 the challenge. 
 
 The champions now came forward on the platform, 
 and were received with loud applause ; and after some 
 other formalities (which it would be tedious to describe) 
 had been gone through, they swore in turns that they 
 came to that ordeal, not trusting to any charms or en- 
 chantments, but to the sole help of God, of the Virgin, 
 and of that valiant knight, the noble Saint George. 
 After tliis they retired and took up their position within 
 the lists. 
 
 While they were coming down the staircase inside 
 the palace, the crowd in the square kept surging to and 
 fro : those behind pressing forward to get a better 
 view, while those in front tried to push them back, so 
 as to preserve their good places. 
 
 " If it w^ere not for the interdict," said the Count to 
 Ottorino, " now would be the time to say mass, which 
 the two champions ought to hear kneehng on the steps 
 of the altar, and the shields and cudgels should he 
 formally blessed. I know all about it, for I have at 
 my fingers' ends the customs of the State of Milan, 
 codified by order of the Mayor Brunagio Porca. Now 
 I want to see how they will get out of it, for without 
 blessing the arms, there can be no trial by the ordeal of 
 God." 
 
 " I am told," answered the youthful knight, " that 
 the parish priest will not bless them on any account." 
 
 " He is quite right ; the church law is clear on
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 0/ 
 
 that point ; lie would incur excommunication were he 
 to do so." 
 
 " Well, they must settle it as best they may," re- 
 plied Ottorino. " I understand nothing about it." 
 
 The two champions now appeared in the square, ac- 
 companied by the judge, two attendants, and a trum- 
 peter ; while seven or eight lancers opened for them a 
 passage through the crowd. The judge taking from 
 the hand of an attendant a shield and a cudgel, gave 
 them to Ramengo, addressing him, with a loud voice 
 and solemn manner, in these formal words : " Receive 
 the shield and the club for the attack, for the mainte- 
 nance of justice." Then presenting similar weapons to 
 Lupo, he said : " Receive the shield and club of defence, 
 for the maintenance of justice." The two champions then 
 entered the lists. The judge went off to take his seat on 
 a dais, accompanied by two notaries. The witnesses and 
 the assistants took their places ; and the duel was about 
 to begin, when several voices were heard crying out : 
 " The arms must be blessed ! " The judge then stood 
 up, and said: " But your priests will not bless them." 
 A storm of howls, shrieks, and hisses arose on all sides. 
 " The priest is quite right," exclaimed the country people. 
 " He must be forced to bless them ; burn him alive ! " 
 cried the soldiers, and all the partisans of the anti-pope, 
 who were on the square and in the houses. " Yes ! " 
 " No ! " No ! " " Yes ! " was heard on all sides ; and the 
 hubbub became demoniacal. 
 
 The judge soon saw that the majority sided with the 
 priest, and felt that he now could not pass the matter 
 over easily, more especially as it was nothing so very 
 extraordinary in those days to see a priest burnt or 
 flayed alive for refusing to say mass, or to perform 
 other sacred functions on account of the interdict. 
 The worthy functionary, as soon as quiet was somewhat 
 restored, called out : " If there is any one here who will 
 bless the arms he shall have a silver mark." 
 
 The bystanders looked at each other. Surely the 
 priest of Dervio was there just now ; and those of Per- 
 ledo and Limonta ; but now they were no more to be 
 
 432242
 
 38 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 seen. Wliere had they gone to ? Was there no priest 
 among so many people ? 
 
 At last there came a voice from the crowd which 
 was heard above all the nproar, " Tremacoldo is here, 
 and he's our man." 
 
 A shont of approbation rose at once from all sides, 
 " Send for Tremacoldo ! " 
 
 The reader has to be informed that Tremacoldo, the 
 minstrel, who had been singing the praises of Beatrice 
 a short time before, was, in fact, a priest, and had been 
 canon of Crescenzago. A holy man take np the trade 
 of a buffoon ! What a sad sign of the age ! the reader 
 will say. But in those times this kind of scandal was 
 not uncommon. The ecclesiastical law discountenanced 
 such doings ; the council of Vienna, the council of Ber- 
 gamo, held by our Archbishop Cassone della Torre, in 
 the year 1311, many other councils and many papal 
 decrees expressly prohibited priests from exercising the 
 trades of butchers or labourers, from keeping taverns, 
 and how much more from turning mountebanks ! Not- 
 withstanding this, if similar scandals are sometimes to 
 be found in more godly times, what could be expected 
 during the interdict, when the transgressors had nothing 
 to lose — no immunities, nor privileges of ecclesiastical 
 tribunals, nor benefices to give up — when, in short, 
 there was nothing to restrain them except their own 
 consciences ? 
 
 " Let Tremacoldo be sent for ; go and fetch the 
 canon," the multitixde continued to shout out unani- 
 mously. 
 
 And at last the minstrel was seen coming from the 
 palace between two helmeted soldiers, who cleared the 
 way for him to enter the lists. 
 
 Our old friend the falconer, who, as father of one of 
 the champions, had been conceded a good place close to 
 the barrier, called out to his son Lupo, who was stand- 
 ing in the centre of the lists, waiting for the end of this 
 scene ; and having at last caught his attention, he said 
 to him : " Listen to me ; take care not to fight with 
 unblessed arms, for you know people have their sus-
 
 MARCO VISCOKTI. 39 
 
 picions about that rogne over yonder," pointing to Ra- 
 mengo, who stood leaning with folded arms against the 
 further barrier. 
 
 " Never fear, father," replied his son — " let me alone : 
 my arms have been already blessed this morning by his 
 reverence himself; but keep that dark." 
 
 Poor Ambrose felt as if these words had put new life 
 into him. 
 
 In the meantime the minstrel turned to the deputy 
 and the spectators : " Look here," he said, " I have been 
 singing all the morning, and I am as thirsty as a fish ; 
 I was just going down into the Archbishop's cellars 
 for a good draught of beer, when these gentlemen here 
 carried me off ; they want me to act priest, but I vow 
 and protest that if the world were to come to an end, 
 I'll do nothing until I have wetted my throat. Do you 
 understand ? " 
 
 The deputy beckoned to an attendant, who went into 
 the palace, and soon after came out with a large flask of 
 wine. Tremacoldo poured out a good cup-full, swallowed 
 it down with one gulp, took a long breath, and said : 
 " Well, thirst makes one drink well, but you must give 
 the wine its due share ; another draught will do no 
 harm ; it makes one know the quality of what one's 
 drinking." He filled anew his cup, and di'ank this 
 time very slowly, sipping it lovingly down to the smallest 
 drop. He looked from time to time at the wine through 
 the glass, against the light, with gloating eyes, and 
 exclaimed, " What excellent liquor, the very thing to 
 put heart into a man, to bring the colour to his face, 
 and tears to his eyes ! Well," he said, when he had 
 come to the end, " I feel better now ; bring the vest- 
 ments, the mass-book, and the holy water." 
 
 Some of the soldiers had run into the sacristy, and 
 breaking open the lock of a press, had dragged out the 
 robes and vestments which were there, and had brought 
 them to the minstrel. 
 
 He took at once the richest of the copes, and having 
 arrayed himself in it, called out, " Now for the biretta." 
 
 " We found none."
 
 40 MARCO TISCONTI. 
 
 " Then my minstrel's cap must do instead ; an ex- 
 pedient can always be found." 
 
 He then turned to one of the men-at-arms who had 
 followed him within the barriers, and placing his hand 
 on his shoulder, " Look here, my good fellow," he said 
 to him, " turn round ; you shall be my acolyte ; take 
 this holy-water brush — hold it properly, you awkward 
 booby — do you take it for a cross-bow ? There, stand 
 there, and look pretty ! I declare I'll get you made 
 canon of Sta. Maria Maggiore at the fii^st vacancy." 
 Then he began to mutter a long rigmarole of senseless 
 gibberish, describing strange ciphers in the aii', and 
 making fantastic signs over the shields and sticks 
 which were held before him ; and accompanied these 
 gestures from time to time with movements of his head 
 and p3rson, which set the bells tingling all over his body. 
 
 He then took the holy-water brush from his sham 
 acolvte, and said, " Give me the holy-water basin.'"' 
 
 "We could not find any in the church," replied the 
 soldiers. 
 
 " No holy water ? Well, we must have the holy 
 wine from the Archbishop's cellar." He made his 
 assistant take off his helmet, poured in the Mane left in 
 the flask, soaked the brush in this and sprinkled the 
 weapons with it, giving at the same time a push to the 
 acolyte to make him bend his head and say " Amen," 
 and the man, with a grin on his face, did all that was 
 told him. 
 
 " The dregs of the pitcher should be for the benefit 
 of the clerk," said the buffoon, in conclusion, to the 
 soldier ; " so drink, my fine fellow." The latter, taking 
 the helmet in both hands, cried out — " To the health of 
 Avhoever proves the better man in the duel," and gulped 
 dowiT the wine 
 
 There were various opinions among the spectators of 
 this extravagant scene. Some held that the benediction, 
 though given by a madman in a mad fashion, must hold 
 good, and were not so much scandalized by the buf- 
 foonery they had witnessed as we should have expected ; 
 for durina: the length of time that the interdict had
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 41 
 
 lasted, tliey had seen and heard so much that was 
 unusual, and even horrible, that this might almost pass 
 for an innocent jest. There were others who thought 
 that Tremalcoldo had converted the ceremony into a 
 farce in order to escape from the danger of giving a 
 benediction under the interdict, and others again who, 
 without going deeper, laughed heartily at the scurrilous 
 proceedings of the minstrel : so that in the end there 
 were few left to find fault with him. 
 
 The champions now took up their respective stations, 
 opposite to each other, at the two extremities of the 
 lists. They were dressed in leggings of chamois leather 
 fastened round their waists, which reached to their feet, 
 and ended in a pair of red sandals ; all the rest of the 
 body was bare. • On the left arm they bore a wooden 
 target squared at each end, slightly curved on the inner 
 side, and covered with parchment : and in the right 
 hand a large and knotty oaken cudgel. 
 
 Ramengo da Casale appeared to be about thirty-five 
 or thereabouts ; he was thick-set, strong-limbed, wide- 
 chested, and broad-shouldered ; he had a bull's neck, 
 short, brawny arms, and shaggy red hair. 
 
 Lupo had better-proportioned limbs, was taller by 
 half a head, handsomer and more agile than his oppo- 
 nent, but he was far from exhibiting the strength of 
 that other herculean form. 
 
 The multitude were again silent ; those farthest re- 
 moved from the scene of action were standing on 
 benches and tables ; the windows and roofs all round 
 were crammed with people. All eyes were fixed on the 
 two champions, all hearts were beating, and it might 
 easily be seen that the general feeling was in favour of 
 Lupo, partly because of the justice of his cause, and 
 partly because the first sight of his pleasing exterior 
 and open countenance roused universal sympathy. 
 
 The Limontese youth, who was placed with his back 
 to the church, turned to look at the Archbishop's palace, 
 and seeing the Count, Ottorino, and Beatrice, he saluted 
 them with a slight inclination of his head, then lowering 
 his eyes, turned them for an instant on his father, who
 
 42 , MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 was standing behind him, as much as to say, " Trust to 
 me, and do not fear." 
 
 The trumpet gave the last signal, and the two cham- 
 pions advanced towards each other with a measured and 
 cautious step, covering their heads with the shields, and 
 skilfully whirling the sticks round their heads. 
 
 When they had arrived in the centre of the lists,_ and 
 were almost within roach of each other. Ramengo 
 planted his brawny legs firmly on the ground, and rest- 
 ing somewhat obliquely on his right thigh, stood ready 
 to meet the attack. 
 
 Lupo began circling round him and trying to draw 
 him on by repeated feints, but his experienced adversary, 
 whose plan of the battle was to allow the first fire of 
 the raw and eager boy (as he considered him) to be 
 used up, contented himself with keeping his front 
 turned towards his adversary, and in so doing kept a 
 circle, of which his right foot marked the circumference 
 and his left remained as the axis. And so this valiant 
 duellist continued, quietly parrying all his opponent's 
 blows with admirable science and peculiar skill. Once, 
 however, when Lupo, in making a thrust, left one side 
 exposed, he seized the opportunity, and dealt him such a 
 back stroke as would have broken the youth's ribs, if 
 he had not been as quick as lightning in springing out 
 of the way. The cudgel grazed his skin, and turned off 
 harmlessly with a whizz that found an echo in the heart 
 of poor Ambrose, who turned as pale as death. 
 
 Those among the crowd who sided with Lupo thought 
 matters began to look serious, and became somewhat 
 apprehensive for their favourite. But he, stimulated 
 by liis-»own danger, and burning with shame, returned 
 to the charge with such impetuosity th^t Ramengo was 
 forced to beat a retreat, and in defending himself was 
 not able to maintain the same calm superiority as before. 
 The storm of blows was too rapid, and the fury with 
 which the young henchman fell upon liim was too 
 overwhelming. The champion of the monastery was, 
 however, skilful enough to profit by a false move on 
 his adversary's part, and contrived to deal a blow whi(^h
 
 MAECO VISCONTI. 43 
 
 broke the shield in half. Lupo felt his hand stiffen, 
 and became aware of what damage had been done by 
 seeing the broken target entangled on his arm. He 
 opened his fist, threw off the straps, and casting on the 
 ground the useless instrument of defence, seized the 
 cudgel in desperation with both hands, raised it on high 
 above his head, and with all the strength he could 
 muster, aimed a fearful blow at the head of his oppo- 
 nent. Ramengo was in perfect readiness to protect 
 with his shield the threatened part ; but the solid mass 
 came down so furiously and with such power that the 
 shield itself was knocked down on his skull, and he was 
 entirely stunned. He felt a buzzing in his ears, his 
 eyes swam, his knees gave way under him, he tottered 
 for a moment, and then fell down senseless to the 
 ground, as if dead. But whether it was from a natural 
 instinct to defend his face, or a movement made by 
 chance, he lowered first his left elbow, and then sank 
 down on it, so that his head rested on the target and 
 did not touch the arena. Lupo's father had done nothing 
 all this time but follow his son's movements, straining 
 his eyes, and showing by every movement the intense 
 anxiety of his mind. Sometimes he drew his head in 
 between his shoulders, and shrank and twisted and made 
 himself as small as he could, as if to shelter himself 
 from a blow directed towards him ; and sometimes, 
 planting his feet on the ground, and pressing with all 
 his might against the barrier on which he was leaning, 
 he raised himself as high as he could, so as to give more 
 vigour to a blow which his son was aiming at his ad- 
 versary. When at last he saw Ramengo sink down on 
 the ground, he raised his eyes to heaven, and felt his 
 senses reel. 
 
 At this moment there burst forth a cry like a clap of 
 thunder, and the father was quite beside himself at the 
 bursts of applause showered down on his son. 
 
 " Long live Lupo !• long live the falconer's son. 
 HuiTah for the Limontese ! " exclaimed the whole mul- 
 titude. 
 
 But the advocate Grarbagnate, who, before the fight
 
 44 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 had begun, had re-entered the grand hall, asked Otto- 
 rino at this juncture whether he thought Ranaengo was 
 dead. "Dead! not a bit of it," he replied. "It is 
 true that blood is flowing from his nose and ears, but 
 there is nothing in that. He is only stunned, and it 
 will soon pass off." 
 
 " Then we must tell Lujio to place his head on the 
 bare ground, or else they will get out of it by some 
 quibble, and say that it is a drawn battle. It must be 
 remembered that our statutes do not recognize a man as 
 conqueror in this kind of ordeal, unless he makes his 
 adversary's head touch the ground, or drives him out of 
 the lists." 
 
 The Count del Balzo heard Garbagnate give this 
 information, and partly because he wished the Limon- 
 tese to benefit by the victory gained by their champion, 
 and partly from the mania he always had of passing 
 for a very knowing fellow, he called out to Lupo to do 
 as Grarbagnate suggested. But hardly had the con- 
 gratulations of the bystanders ceased to sound in his ear, 
 than he perceived that he had made a great blunder, by 
 having been led into an action that might compromise 
 him with the Abbot. He began, therefore, bitterly to 
 repent of having done so, and atoned for his petty 
 vanity by a well-founded apprehension of the conse- 
 quences. 
 
 Lupo, before the combat, had been instructed privately 
 by Garbagnate as to what he would have to do in order 
 to acquit himself with honour ; but not being accus- 
 tomed to the snares and quibbles of lawyers, had 
 thought, when he saw Ramengo stretched on the ground, 
 that there could be no further difficulty, and so, when 
 he heard the Count advise him to " make his head touch 
 the ground," he said to himself, " But here he is lying 
 as stiff as a corpse. What can they want more ? " 
 The idea then came into his mind, in order to set all 
 doubts at rest, to put his adversary outside the arena ; 
 so bending over him to see if he could detect any signs 
 of life, he seized him round the waist, hoisted him on to 
 his shoulders, and ran round the lists with liim. Then,
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 45 
 
 stopping near the barrier, and beckoning to those about 
 to retire a little, with one great effort be flung the 
 wretched man like a sack of grain over the palisade, 
 and sent him spinning among the soldiers and spec- 
 tators. 
 
 The crowd, after clapping their hands, and crying out, 
 " Hurrah for Limonta ! Hurrah for Lupo ! " began now 
 to separate, and disperse to their several homes through 
 the nearest streets. 
 
 In the meantime the gentry gathered again round 
 Tremacoldo, who had again resumed his character of 
 minstrel. After pressing entreaties, he recommenced 
 singing the " Rondinella," which had been interrupted 
 by the arrival of Count del Balzo, a song which was 
 the fashion at that time on the lake of Como, and was 
 said to have been composed by a princess who had been 
 confined in the Castle of Rezzonico to die of starvation, 
 on account of the brutal jealousy of her husband. 
 
 We propose to lay this song before our readers later 
 on, when the minstrel will sing it again, but on a more 
 serious occasion. 
 
 When the lay was finished, the Count del Balzo went 
 away with Beatrice, who was much affected by it ; most 
 of the knights and ladies followed their example, and 
 but few remained. 
 
 " Listen to me, Tremacoldo," said one of those few ; 
 " let us hear the verses which you made when you fell 
 among the thieves, who wanted to make mince-meat of 
 you." 
 
 " And they did it pretty effectually," answered Tre- 
 macoldo : " they had already scattered to the winds my 
 little all, and I thought myself well off to have my head 
 left on my shoulders." 
 
 " And how did you manage it ? " 
 
 " Because a fancy took these worthies to hear me 
 sing." 
 
 " And you humoured them ? " 
 
 " What would you have had me do ? I luckily hit 
 upon a song which saved my skin, and got me besides 
 four gold pieces."
 
 46 MATvCO VISCONTI. 
 
 " Come, now, let us have it." 
 " Shall I sing it as I did then ? " 
 " Certainly, begin ! " 
 
 " Here it is, then," and tuning his yoiceto the instru- 
 ment, he began : — 
 
 If e'er thy suit might win the ear 
 Of fairest nymph, and favoured be ; 
 
 If e'er from death or prison drear 
 St. Nicholas deliver thee ; 
 
 The Minstrel's lute to touch forbear. 
 His scrip and wallet be thy care. 
 
 No roof above his head, no home, 
 
 A wanderer and destitute ; 
 From house to house his lot to roam. 
 
 With wallet still and plaintive lute; 
 The Minstrel's lute to touch forbear, 
 
 His scrip and wallet be thy care. 
 
 How oft within the forest shade. 
 
 Ere Philomel awoke the day, 
 His wallet 'neath his weary head, 
 
 Still sleeping, with his lute, he lay ; 
 The Minstrel's lute to touch forbear, 
 
 His scrip and wallet be thy care. 
 
 His wallet still his lowly seat. 
 
 He strikes his soft recording lute ; 
 The beasts he lures from wild retreat. 
 
 The guests within the court sit mute : 
 The Minstrel's lute to touch forbear, 
 
 His scrip and wallet be thy care. 
 
 Unhm-t, Judrea's plains among, 
 
 Or while he climbs the mountain track, 
 
 His lute about his neck still hung. 
 His faithful wallet at his back : 
 
 The Minstrel's lute to touch forbear, 
 His scrip and wallet be thy care. 
 
 A pilgrim weary, sad, alone, 
 
 'Tis his that lioly tomb to greet, 
 To pay his vow and kiss the stone. 
 
 With wallet meet, and lute-strings sweet : 
 The Minstrel's lute to touch forbear, 
 
 His scrip and wallet be thy care.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 47 
 
 If e'er thy suit might win the ear 
 
 Of fairest nymph, and favoured be; 
 If e'er from death or prison drear 
 
 St, Nicholas dehver thee ; 
 The Minstrel's lute to touch forbear, 
 
 His scrip and wallet be thy care.
 
 MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 CHAPTER y. 
 
 THE people who had gathered together at Bellano 
 from all the lake districts were now on their way 
 to their own homes. On the shore, within the harbour, 
 there was a great uproar going on — talking and shouts, 
 and a rattling of chains, which were being unfastened 
 from the rings to loosen the boats, and questioning, and 
 answers, and an exchange of news and greetings. Here 
 you might see a bark full of people strike off from the 
 shore into the deep water ; there the boatmen, with 
 their oars already dipped in the lake, on the move, are 
 hurrying some loiterer who is delaying them. 
 
 On one side is an individual, who, with angry im- 
 precations, is endeavouring to clear some space to get 
 his boat free from larger vessels between which it is 
 stuck ; on the other the boats are sailing swiftly from 
 the shore. In a very short time the lake was covered 
 with barks of every description, which, according to 
 their several destinations, either hoisted their sails to 
 prepare for a strong wind, which had set in a short 
 time before, or else put all their strength into rowing 
 against the waves, which broke with a foaming noise 
 against the bounding prow. 
 
 The Limonta party were the last to start : there were 
 six barks, and wishing to keep together, they were 
 waiting till Lupo was released from the hands of the 
 deputy and the advocates, who had kept him back to 
 go through some formalities. 
 
 The Count del Balzo, in the most courteous manner 
 possible, had insisted on Ottorino returning with him 
 to the castle to spend some days, so they entered a 
 vessel together, and took their seats in one of those 
 miniature houses, prettily ornamented and furnished 
 with every comfort, whioh were placed at that time, and
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 49 
 
 are even so to tliis day, in the centre of the boats be- 
 longing to grandees. Beatrice sat down opposite her 
 father, and the priest of Limonta was invited by the 
 Count to take his place opposite the young knight. 
 
 There were two oars in the stern and two in the bow. 
 Michael, as the eldest, took charge of the helm. His 
 son, Arigozzo, was on the front bench, the place usually 
 given to the strongest and most skilful oarsman. 
 
 Our Lupo, after having received with a certain un- 
 polished modesty the congratulations showered on him 
 by the nobles, came out on the pi^ow, and placed himself 
 astride on the point of the vessel, with his legs dangling 
 on either side, amusing himself with dipping his feet 
 in the water at every pitch of the boat, and feeling 
 his face sprinkled with the spray of the oars. He sat 
 with his arms folded, gazing on the mountains from 
 which he had been away so long, and contemplating 
 with an inexpressible affection those peaks and moun- 
 tain slopes, and those winding valleys, those stern and 
 beetling precipices, — all places full of the memories of 
 his childhood, and which were to him like the face of a 
 well-known friend. 
 
 Ambrose, his father, was sitting in the bottom of the 
 boat, thinking of his own happiness in possessing such 
 a son, whom, in his opinion, every gentleman would be 
 proud to have for his own. From time to time he 
 approached him, and whispered a few tender words to 
 him, to which demonstrations Lupo would respond by a 
 glance or a smile. 
 
 When they were at the point of Morcate, Arigozzo, 
 seeing a small bright cloud over Val Menaggio, said, 
 " There is going to be a storm. Make haste, my brave 
 boys ; pull a few strong strokes, that we may get to Va- 
 renna before it comes upon us ! " and the four oars 
 pulled more evenly together, and with a quicker stroke. 
 
 But in the covered part of the boat, after they had 
 chatted a little over the events of the day, the father of 
 Beatrice turned the conversation upon Marco Visconti, 
 and related to his young guest something that he al- 
 ready partly knew, and which the Count was in the 
 
 E
 
 50 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 habit of telling eveiyone, namely, how he had been at 
 school with that famous captain. " We studied to- 
 gether," said he, " the trivio and the quarivio, and later 
 on Law and Equity — and Marco was one of the ablest 
 scholars — ^and, to tell you the truth, there was only one 
 other that could at all equal him " — and here he gave a 
 little smile of mock modesty, and showed clearly who 
 the one was he did not name. But fearing, however, 
 that Ottorino would not have acumen enough to inter- 
 pret his reticence, " We were always rivals," he con- 
 tinued, " and I remember the dispute we had together 
 when the book called ' De Monarchia,' of Dante Ali- 
 ghieri, came out — a poisonous book, afterwards burnt, 
 as it deserved, by the common hangman — and Marco, 
 who was mad about the Ghibelline Faction, would 
 defend it tooth and nail. I can tell you we made 
 noise enough about it, but yet remained always good 
 friends." 
 
 " Yes, I know that, for he has often spoken of you 
 to me in former times," answered Ottorino. 
 
 " Do you mean that ? " asked the Count, anxiously ; 
 " and what did he say ? " 
 
 " Knowing that I was so intimate with your poor 
 Lionel, he asked me all about you and the Countess, 
 whom he praised to the skies." 
 
 Count Oldrado in a low voice whispered in the 
 knight's ear, so as not to be heard by his daughter ; but 
 notwithstanding, he spoke so loud that Beatrice, though 
 not appearing or intending to listen, did not lose a 
 syllable of his discourse. 
 
 " You must know," he said, "that Ermelinda was at 
 one time to have been Marco's wife, but strange events 
 happened. Stop, I will tell you about it at a more con- 
 venient season ; there was much ill blood over it, and 
 they even came to blows, my wife's father having been 
 slain by Marco at the fords of the Adda." 
 
 At this moment the conversation was interrupted by 
 a sudden clap of thunder. A second after the steersman 
 was heard crying out : " The Menagino is upon us, all 
 hands to work ! "
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 51 
 
 There was now an agitation produced in the boat by 
 the movements of Lupo and Ambrogio in obedience to 
 this order, succeeded by a short silence, during which 
 could be heard the distant roar of the storm over the 
 lake, which seemed to come nearer every moment. The 
 priest opened a window and looked out. It looked very 
 black towards Menaggio, and already the first ominous 
 dash of the white-crested waves was heard on the shore, 
 a sure hai-binger of the coming storm. The Count, ap- 
 proaching the door near the stern, called out : " Michael, 
 why did you not bear up for the shore at the first sign of 
 bad weather ? Now we shall be driven among those 
 atrocious rocks, where there is no landing ! " 
 
 " It has come as suddenly as if the devil had brought 
 it," replied the boatman. " Courage, men ! " he cried 
 out. " On, my brave boys — now close all together ! " 
 
 The men set to work with a will, and plied their oars 
 so vigorously that the timbers of the boat quite cracked 
 at each stalwart stroke. But now they began to feel 
 the squall, now the first waves began to strike the 
 vessel, which no longer preserved its equilibrium, but 
 pitched and tossed in all directions, neutralizing to a 
 great extent the frantic efforts of the boatmen. 
 
 In spite of it all, however, the vessel continued to 
 make way by degrees, and was fast approaching the 
 point of Yarenna. 
 
 They were already abreast of the promontory, and 
 were about to double it, when a sudden gust struck the 
 stem of the boat, and a sound as of splitting wood was 
 heard, followed by appalling shouts, " The rudder is 
 gone. We are lost ! Belay that awning ! Holy 
 Virgin ! Rig an oar in the steerage ! Quick, tie it 
 down ! Lord have mercy upon us ! Help, help ! " 
 
 Everything in the boat was in a state of wild con- 
 fusion, amid these loud cries of anguish and despair, 
 which were, however, almost drowned by the whistlhig 
 of the wind, the roar of the breakers, and the terrible 
 detonations of the thunder, echoing from the cliffs and 
 caverns of the mountains overhead. 
 
 The priest clasped his hands in prayer, administered
 
 52 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 to them all absolution hi articulo mortis, and tlien fell on 
 his knees ija. a corner of the little cabin ; while the Count, 
 with stony eyes and open month, stared wildly at his 
 daughter, who was clinging to him, and cried out every 
 moment, " Lord help me ! " 
 
 Ottorino had rushed out of the cabin, to render what 
 help he could ; but he soon saw that the vessel, which 
 was now entirely at the mercy of the winds and waves, 
 was in imminent peril of shipwreck on the cliffs of 
 Morcate, in spite of the almost superhuman exertions of 
 the rowers to avoid the rocks immediately ahead. Just 
 as he came out, Arigozzo, who had thrown the whole 
 weight of his body on to his oar, suddenly missed his 
 stroke, and losing his balance from the non-resistance 
 of the water, fell straight into the lake. He struggled 
 a moment or two with the billows, when the boat passed 
 over him, and he appeared no more. 
 
 " Make for the mountain ! " cried the steersman in 
 despair, who, owing to his view being obstructed by 
 the cabin amidships, was ignorant of the loss of his son. 
 
 A few more mingled prayers and curses were still 
 heard, but directly afterwards all sounds were lost in 
 one general inarticulate shriek, as the boat was violently 
 driven by a huge wave upon a mass of perpendicular 
 rock. 
 
 At this crisis the young soldier did not lose his 
 presence of mind, but fixing liis eye on a small rock 
 close at hand, he gathered himself up for a leap, and 
 sprang on it, holding the chain of the boat in one hand ; 
 but the retreating wave forced back the vessel, and 
 would have dragged him also from his vantage ground, 
 had he not clung tightly to the rock on which he was. 
 The next wave sent the boat back again to the rock, 
 and Ottorino this time managed to grasp the taffi-ail. 
 Lupo, the falconer, and the other boatmen, who were 
 standing ready at the prow, at once leapt out, and 
 luckily contrived to pass the chain round a wild fig- 
 tree, growing in a crevice. The vessel, thus fastened 
 against the cliffs with the bows high out of the water,
 
 MAKCO VISCONTI. 53 
 
 like a bull taken in a lasso, appeared to kick and struggle 
 against the repeated assaults of the billows, which, how- 
 ever, failed to effect their object. 
 
 Ottorino and the rest of the party, after they had seen 
 Count Balzo and his daughter safe out of the boat, began 
 seai'ching all over the mass of rocks for traces of the 
 man who had gone overboard, but without much hope of 
 success. His father alone, who had been the last to 
 leave the boat, and in the confusion had not perceived 
 that his son was missing, sat down at the foot of the 
 rock, with a piece of broken oar on his knee, and began 
 to look for him among the others, but without much 
 uneasiness, as he felt sure that everyone was safe. 
 
 Just then the Count, relieved from his past alarm, 
 and much annoyed by the perils he had gone through, 
 began to upbraid the steersman and his son Arigozzo, 
 whose fate also he was far from suspecting. Michael 
 received these reproaches with downcast eyes, and the 
 general air of a man conscious of having deserved them ; 
 but on hearing his son's name (his most sensitive point), 
 coupled with his own, he could not restrain himself 
 from answering in some measure. But suddenly turn- 
 ing towards the lake, his eye was caught by something 
 strange, apparently entangled in the clefts of a rock 
 close by, and almost hidden by the waves. On looking 
 moi'e closely he distinguished the corner of a brown 
 gabardine, and then a hand that now and again appeared 
 above the waves. 
 
 The poor father felt ready to drop ; seizing his broken 
 oar, he leapt to his feet, and cried out in an agonized 
 voice, " Arigozzo, Arigozzo ! " There being no reply, 
 he rushed up the rock, and looked round amongst the 
 men, but his son was not there. His eyes now fell 
 on the Count, who had just before insulted that much- 
 loved name. " You are there, are you, you dog ? " he 
 roared out, and brandishing the broken oar, darted for- 
 ward to strike at him. 
 
 On hearing Beatrice's shriek, Ottorino stepped for- 
 ward and parried the blow, and the next moment Lupo
 
 54 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 and the rest mslied up and disarmed the frenzied man, 
 who struck his brow with his clenched fist, and sjDrang 
 into the lake. 
 
 Here he could be seen struggling with the infuriated 
 waves, with the ardour and strength of despair. In a 
 few strokes he reached the body, and groping in the 
 water, caught it firmly by the hair ; but overcome by a 
 thrill of paternal affection, he felt that this was too 
 rough a mode of handling the beloved form. So he 
 placed his left hand under the chin, so as to support 
 the head, while with his right he paddled through the 
 water towards the rock he had just quitted. The boat- 
 men came up in their vessel, now almost in a sinking 
 condition, and threw the old man the ropes of the sail, 
 by grasping which he managed to get safely to land 
 with his melancholy and precious burden. 
 
 He then laid out his son's body on the rock, with the 
 head on his own knees, and, bending over it, examined 
 the chest to see if the heart still beat ; then pressing 
 his own breast and cheeks against those of his son, he 
 covered his eyes, mouth, and face with kisses, breathing 
 upon him as if hoping to restore him to life. A sudden 
 gust of wind slightly moved the arm of the corpse, 
 which was hanging down, and made it stir a little. At 
 this the poor father was seized with a sudden thrill of 
 hope ; the blood rushed to his cheeks for an instant ; 
 his features seemed relieved, and a sudden gleam of 
 light flashed from his eyes, which he kept intently fixed 
 on the beloved countenance ; but, at last, realizing the 
 deception, he clutched his hair with both hands, and 
 then stretched out his fists towards the lake : " Oh, ye 
 accursed wind and waves ! " he cried, " and thou thrice 
 cursed carcase of a bark, and the hour I first put foot 
 into thee ! Perdition take ye all ! " All the rest stood 
 round gazing at him, like men bereft of their senses ; 
 none dared offer him a word of consolation. But the 
 priest, after leaving him a short time to his grief, came 
 near him, and instead of addressing his words to Michael 
 himself, placed one hand on the head of his son, which 
 was still on the father's knee, and said, ^^ith a feeling
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 55 
 
 voice : " My poor Arigozzo ! thou wast ever a good, 
 God-fearing son, and so fond of thy parents ! " 
 
 " That is time, that is true ! " ansvpered the father, 
 deeply affected by the praise given to his loved one. 
 " I did not deserve so good a son." 
 
 " In these times when one's faith is in such peril," 
 continued the priest, " how dost thou know, my poor 
 Michael, that the Lord may not have called him in 
 mercy, whilst he was still His ? Come, think that thou 
 art restoring him to Him who gave him thee, and who 
 has taken him away, for ends we cannot know, but 
 which are, without doubt, ordained in justice, and com- 
 passion for his elect ? " 
 
 " Oh ! but what in the world can I do without him ? " 
 exclaimed the boatman. " What shall I reply to my 
 poor Martha when I get home, and she asks me, ' What 
 hast thou done with our son ? ' " 
 
 " The Lord will not forsake you," gently urged the 
 good priest. " He who has sent the affliction will give 
 you strength to bear it." 
 
 Michael raised his eyes to heaven, and a moment 
 afterwards exclaimed : " Why am not I dead ? Why 
 leave me here a useless old man, and take him away in 
 the first bloom of youth — our only hope, support, and 
 consolation ? " but he could not go on. 
 
 After his tears had somewhat assuaged his grief, he 
 turned to the priest and said : "Oh, what a son, what 
 a son I have lost ! How he loved me ! — and so well-be- 
 haved — a son whose good sense and judgment surpassed all 
 others in Limonta ; and his poor mother was always tell- 
 ing me that, old as I am, I might take pattern from him." 
 
 Meantirue the otliers who had been saved were dis- 
 cussing how best to get away from that naked rock 
 before nightfall. Although the point upon which they 
 had struck was at a little distance from the mountain, 
 and appeared to have been separated from it for many 
 ages, still it was no great difficulty to reach the foot of 
 the mountain by leaping from one to another of the 
 smaller rocks that showed above the waves. But even 
 when you had got to the mountain you might say you
 
 56 MARCO TISCONTI. 
 
 had done notliing, as it rose to an incalculable heiglat, 
 as steep as a wall. 
 
 They waited here awhile, scanning the neighbouring 
 heights to see if they could find some shepherd passing 
 near them in search of a stray lamb or kid, so that they 
 might inform him of their extremity by signs, and ask 
 his assistance ; but wherever they looked not a living 
 soul could be seen. As to making their voices heard in 
 that vast solitude, beneath that ilhmitable sky and amidst 
 the noise of the waves, that was evidently hopeless. 
 
 At last, after much hesitation amongst themselves, 
 Lupo said to his companions, " We must resolve to act 
 while the daylight lasts. I will try to get up there " — 
 pointing with his finger to a peak a little to the right — 
 " and once there I shall easily contrive to drop down to 
 Varenna, and return here from thence in a boat." 
 
 The falconer would not hear of his running so tre- 
 mendous a risk. " Stay here with us," he said. " We 
 must take our chance alike." Ottorino, too, tried to 
 dissuade him from the enterprise, which seemed the 
 height of rashness, not to say downright madness ; but 
 he replied, " I have often followed the chase as a youth, 
 and I can fairly say that there is not a precipice from 
 Godano to Legnone that I do not know, so let me try 
 my luck, and, with God's help, I hope to succeed." He 
 then took off his sandals, laid down the short cloak 
 which he wore, and, clad in a tight jerkin made of thin 
 leather, at once set to work. 
 
 He reached the foot of the mountain without much 
 difficulty, and stopping for a moment at the last rock 
 that stood against it, looked up at the tremendous 
 height he had to surmount, put his hands on the rock 
 to try it, and then shook his head, as if he despaired of 
 being able to keep his footing. At last, however, he 
 crossed himself, and began to ascend slowl}^ and circum- 
 spectly, creeping and clambering from cliff to chff, from 
 rock to rock, and from precipice to precipice. If he 
 came across a bramble, a sapling, or a young oak, or a 
 thin stem of wild fig, he clutched it with his hands, and 
 then supported his feet against it, and so got higher and
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 67 
 
 higher. Every cleft and crevice were made the most 
 of by the joint action of his arms, legs, fingers, and 
 nails — now crawling on his knees, now creejjing on his 
 chest, and so on as he best could. 
 
 The people on the rocks below followed his move- 
 ments with their eyes, trembling at every uncertain 
 step or slip that he made, especially when, by the glare 
 of the lightning, they saw him now about half way up, 
 hanging on by those frightfully precipitous masses of 
 rock, amongst which the thunder roared, and imme- 
 diately above the resounding waves below ; and up above 
 his head they could see another height, more steep and 
 more desperate-looking than any of the former ones. 
 
 By good luck, however, the climber lighted upon a 
 cavity where he could rest and take breath for a moment ; 
 thence he cast down liis eyes to judge of the distance he 
 had already traversed, but soon drew them back, quite 
 dazed and giddy, owing to the tremendous height ; but. 
 in a few minutes he crossed himself again, and started 
 afresh. As he kept climbing up the precipice hand over 
 hand, and gradually gaining ground, he looked smaller 
 and smaller, and sometimes could scarcely be dis- 
 tinguished from the rock itself, at one time looking like 
 a bush moving in the wind, at another like a falcon 
 hovering round the precipices in search of its quarry. 
 
 The lookers-on lost sight of him for a moment, and 
 then, discerning something rolling down from the top of 
 the precipice, they gave up all for lost ; but they soon 
 saw that it was only a mass of rock, bounding from 
 peak to peak, till it fell into the lake broken into a 
 thousand fragments. The daring traveller once more 
 turned round, looking like a brown, dim speck, and then 
 disappeared altogether. 
 
 Ottorino then asked one of the boatmen if any vessel 
 could live in such a sea. 
 
 " That's as it may be," was the reply. " It would 
 take a bold man to launch out three hands'-breadths from 
 the shore at this moment ; but the wind must go down 
 at sunset, and by the time Lupo aiTives at Varenna the 
 waves may go down as well."
 
 58 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 The young kniglit said no more, but sat clown on the 
 rock by the side of Beatrice. All kept their eyes fixed 
 on the mountains of Tremazzo, behind which the sun 
 had just gone down. Gigantic clouds, hurried on by 
 the wind, seemed to be whirled and twisted about and 
 changed into a thousand fantastic forms, tinged with a 
 fiery red. The light, as it disappeared bebind the moun- 
 tains, fled from the face of the different objects, which 
 from one moment to another, beginning at the most 
 distant ones, and thence advancing by degrees, appeared 
 to grow fainter and more misty, until as they lost their 
 outline and took all sorts of uncertain forms, they vacil- 
 lated, so to speak, before the eye, and at last vanished 
 altogether. 
 
 In the immediate vicinity of tbe sunset tlie sky was 
 still red, but if you cast your eyes from the highest 
 peaks down the mountain slopes to the verge of the lake, 
 neither trees nor houses could be distinguished. Valleys 
 and eminences looked alike ; the whole mountain range 
 seemed one uniform gigantic shadow standing up against 
 the sky, and even that shadow soon grew confused and 
 uncertain, and at last was completely blotted out. The 
 darkness became more intense every moment, and the 
 shipwrecked party at last were scarcely able to see one 
 another. On the fluctuating surface of the lake, how- 
 ever, dark as it was, they could discern at a certain 
 distance the furious billows, with threatening white 
 crests, tumbling over and over and pursuing each other 
 in turn, till they lashed against the rock, as if intending 
 to swallow it up, and recover the prey that had been 
 wrested from them. 
 
 All was quiet above ; but from below, above the roar- 
 ing of the waves and the wind, might be heard the low, 
 monotonous, and continued wail of poor Michael re- 
 peating his rosary over the body of his son. 
 
 Ottorino had taken the hand of Beatrice, which in her 
 fright and bewilderment she had abandoned to him, 
 quite thankful to feel herself near a protector; for, as 
 her father was sitting crouched up on the other side of 
 the rock, with his head between his knees and his teeth
 
 MARCO TISCOXTI. 59 
 
 chattering -with cold and terror, she could not trust 
 much to him. The long hair of the girl floating in 
 the wind was carried for an instant against the young 
 man's face, who, shipwrecked as he was, even in that 
 place and amidst that scene of terror and pity, would 
 not have exchanged that moment for a whole life of 
 prosperity. 
 
 After about an hour, which seemed an eternity to all 
 but him and poor Michael, who had no power to calcu- 
 late time, both being totally absorbed in the idea of the 
 present — but, alas ! in how different a manner — a light 
 was seen towards the point of Varenna,, which they had 
 been unable to weather ; and they set up a general cry 
 of joy, which was responded to by other shouts, half 
 drowned by the wind. The shipwrecked people con- 
 tinued shouting, which served as a guide for the rescuing 
 vessel to steer for, in its troublous course. Already for 
 some time, over and above the noise of the waves, an 
 intermittent noise as of oai^s had been heard, which 
 increased as it came nearer, and then the sound of 
 voices in conversation, and at last the vessel itself ap- 
 peared. The Count's two boatmen ran down to lend a 
 hand in preventing the boat from striking against the 
 rock, with whose assistance Lupo, who was with the 
 new-comers, managed to fix outside the bows a large 
 platform, to serve as a bridge between the vessel and 
 the rock. 
 
 The first to sally forth, as soon as he saw it firmly 
 fixed, was Count Oldrado ; he jumped into the vessel, 
 and turning round to call his daughter, soon had the 
 satisfaction of seeing her by his side, as Ottorino had 
 taken her arm and assisted her to cross. At last they 
 all got on board one by one ; the old pilot was the last, 
 who laid his son's corpse under the covered part of the 
 stern, and prepared to lie down by the side of it. After 
 a while Lupo, seeing that he was quite wet through and 
 numbed with cold, having nothing on but a doublet, 
 took off his own cloak and sj^read it over him. Michael 
 neither accepted nor refused this act of kindness ; at 
 first he seemed not to perceive it all, but when, on
 
 60 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 laoving his arm, te felt the unaccustomed incumbrance, 
 lie rose upon his knees, took it oii his back, and throw- 
 ing it over his son's body, spread it and smoothed it out 
 with the tenderest aiiection. 
 
 Once round the point, they saw the mole of Varenna 
 glistening with lights, and heard the voices of the people 
 with whom it was- crowded ; the vessel came close to 
 the shore, and following the advice freely oifered from 
 thence, with a sudden turn of the bows, got into the 
 entrance of the harbour in safety. The country people 
 then busied themselves about the men who had been 
 rescued. One drew up the boat into a place of safety, 
 another showed a light, or helped the men to get on 
 shore ; all tried who could show the most kindness ; 
 but with all this display of affection in action, they 
 could not forbear from rallying the Limonta boatmen 
 for allowing themselves to be caught in a squall so care- 
 lessly. The latter kept silence for a while, but at last 
 began to retort again, and the wordy contest was speedily 
 turning into a free fight, when a voice was heard in the 
 crowd saying that the Count's pilot was in the boat with 
 the corpse of his son, who was drowned. In a moment 
 the shouts and invectives were hushed, and changed 
 into a general murmur of compassion. All sorts of 
 assistance and services were proffered to the poor father, 
 who, however, refused everything, preferring to remain 
 all night on guard over the corpse, which they proposed 
 to transport to Limonta in the morning. 
 
 As soon as it was day, the father went in search of a 
 carpenter to make a cross to be placed on the rock where 
 the wreck had taken place ; and taking from his pocket a 
 few coins that were in it, he dropped them one by one 
 into his horny palm to count them, saying, " This money 
 was earned by him — it is some he gave me the other day, 
 on his return from Lecco. Who would then have said 
 that it would have served to pay for his memorial cross ? " 
 
 When the wind fell the night before there had arrived 
 at Varenna other vessels from Limonta, and amongst 
 them the one belonging to Michael himself, which he 
 had lent to some of his fellow-townsmen. In the morn-
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 61 
 
 mg some pious hands laid in it the corpse of the drowned 
 man. When the poor father reached the shore, and 
 saw his bark and the burden they had laid upon it, his 
 eyes filled with tears, but making a strong effort, he got 
 on board calmly, and taking up one of the oars, put it 
 against the shore and pushed off ; then he began to row 
 the boat with both oars slowly away from "the shore. 
 
 The lake was quite calm, and bright as a mirror. 
 Some little fish might be seen from time to time to leap 
 from the clear water like a flash of silvery light, and 
 then fall back again, leaving a circular curl on the 
 smooth and placid surface. 
 
 The sky was a brilliant azure colour, and the air clear 
 and soft. Every cottage, house, and little church, as 
 well on the high mountain ranges as on the slopes that 
 came down to the water's edge, stood clearly out to the 
 view. The fresh and dewy verdure of the plants, 
 brambles, and bushes, received continually a new and 
 splendid colouring from the rays of the rising sun, and 
 from the manifold vagaries of the light, now broken by 
 giant vaporous shadows, now diminishing and dying 
 away in all sorts of indescribable combinations. 
 
 This spectacle of joy and peace was only too sharp a 
 contrast to the anguish and mental agitation of the un- 
 fortunate boatman, who went rowing on for some time 
 in silence, though growong sadder every moment, till at 
 last, in a frenzy of rage and grief, he struck the water 
 with all his might wdth the oar he held in his right 
 hand, exclaiming " Thou treacherous lake ! " when the 
 oar broke, and pulling the other awkwardly into the 
 boat, with the stump of the first still remaining in his 
 hand, he struck such a blow on the gunwale that he 
 broke one of the rowlocks. 
 
 But whilst he was going on in this way, he made the 
 vessel give such a lurch that it displaced a third oar that 
 was lying on a bench, which slipped down and all but 
 fell upon his son's body. This frightened Michael, who 
 leaped forward, seized the oar as it was falling, and 
 holding it in his hands for a moment, looked at it, and 
 said, " It is his," and then gently replaced it.
 
 62 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 " Lord ! " lie then exclaimed, " help me, and have 
 me in Thy holy keeping, lest Satan tempt me to kill 
 myself in despair, and lose my soul," and then returned 
 to his rowing, fervently repeating his devotions. 
 
 Thus he prayed, ever urging the boat forward, bend- 
 ing alternately backwards and forwards to the oars ; 
 and whilst his lips murmured the accustomed words, 
 the unhappy man ran over in his mind all the stages of 
 his dead son's life — first as a baby, then a child, then a 
 boy, then as a grown-up young man, down to that last 
 fatal day. He called to mind the first imperfect utte- 
 rances ; words that had made him feel all the charms of 
 paternity : all the fond hopes he had conceived of him, 
 which were so well justified by his advancing years. 
 There recurred to his memory, too, all the past hopes of 
 the support and repose which were to soothe his de- 
 clining years ; nor could he forget the mother's comfort 
 and delight when she saw him guide his little bark to 
 land, after his first voyage, having spent the night in 
 an agony of terror, listening to the wind whistling 
 through the chestnut-trees, and ever and anon looking 
 out of window at the lake, and asking, " Where can my 
 Arigozzo be now ?" 
 
 Then he remembered how his son, who was one of the 
 best oarsmen on the lake, used to boast that there was 
 no one who could beat him in sailing or steering; and 
 he seemed to hear from the shore the plash of his vigo- 
 rous oar, and the tune of his favourite song, with which 
 he was wont to while away the tedious hours while drift- 
 ing alone about the lake in a calm. 
 
 Whilst these thoughts were passing through the poor 
 father's mind, his lips continued to articulate the words 
 of his prayer, which seemed to issue forth as involuntarily 
 as the babblings of a running stream. Every now and 
 then he would suddenly break off in the midst of a 
 petition to hum liis Arigozzo's favourite air : and then, 
 again, as if roused by the fresh sounds striking his ear, 
 he shook his head, and you could see that his face was 
 covered with tears, as he raised it heavenwards. 
 
 Meanwhile, the vessel drew near to Limonta, and now
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 63 
 
 a fresli and more intense affliction, at the sight of the 
 well-known localities, obscured the mind of the bereft 
 father and the wretched husband. For as he approached 
 the shore, he saw it covered with a crowd of people 
 looking towards him, and apparently waiting for him ; 
 and in the midst of them was a woman tearing her 
 hoary and dishevelled locks, and beating her breast 
 wildly, whilst the shore and the mountains re-echoed 
 her incoherent and despairing shrieks. 
 
 We will not, however, harrow our readers' feelings 
 by detaining them any longer over the spectacle of such 
 poignant grief ; so leaving, for the present, the wretched 
 boatman, and, if that were possible, his still more wretched 
 wife, we will return to our other friends, whom we left 
 at Varenna.
 
 64 MARCO TISCOXTI. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 THAT night the whole party were taken in by the 
 parish priest, who could scarcely realize that he had 
 such distinguished guests under his poor roof, and 
 boasted of it for long afterwards. 
 
 Here, that is to say at Varenna, Pelagrua was still to 
 be found in a sad plight, without any protector or money 
 or connections of any kind, with the prospect before him 
 of soon having to leave the district where he had made 
 himself so odious, and could find no one to say a good 
 word for him. The poor wretch came in the morning 
 quite humiliated — at least, outwardly so — to the priest 
 of Limonta, begging him with many piteous entreaties 
 to forgive him, out of charity, all the mischief he had 
 done in the past, and the greater mischief he had desired 
 to do him, and to help him how to find some remedy for 
 his case, which was well-nigh desperate. 
 
 The good priest had compassion not so much for the 
 man himself — who would have been none the worse for 
 a little punishment — but for his innocent wife and child, 
 and, therefore, promised to plead his cause with Count 
 del Balzo, though, to say the truth, he did not hope 
 much from that quarter. But, luckily for the unfortu- 
 nate vn^etch, when the priest joined the Count he found 
 him with his daughter and Ottorino. The maiden, na- 
 turally kind and pitiful, had seen Pelagrua's wife on the 
 occasion of her taking refuge in the castle, and had 
 shared with her mother in the sympathy inspired by 
 that poor woman's troubles. So now she was much 
 moved by the priest's appeal, and made a great point 
 with her father that he should provide an asylum for 
 the miserable family. 
 
 These entreaties were not very acceptable to the Count, 
 who wished for nothirg less than to risk breaking alto-
 
 MARCO YISCONTI. 65 
 
 gether with the Abbot of San 'Ambrogio, and especially 
 in a concern which was likely to make him highly un- 
 popular with all the people of Limonta. 
 
 The poor man, however, was unwilling to deny his 
 daughter openly, and, therefore, busied himself in in- 
 venting excuses and pretences, hesitated, and twisted 
 himself about as if sitting upon thorns ; but Ottorino, 
 too happy to be able to please the young lady, and to 
 find favour ^vith her father, offered to take in Pelagrua 
 himself, and, the affair being now regarded as settled, 
 he received from Beatrice, by way of thanks, a look of 
 such heartfelt gratitude that the young man felt the 
 charm of it thrill through his soul. 
 
 The priest of Limonta, taking the young man aside, 
 thought it his duty to warn him as to the character of 
 the man to whom he was about to do such a favour, 
 feehng sure that such information ought to put him on 
 his guard ; but he did not listen with much attention to 
 these admonitions, partly from the natural carelessness 
 of his age, and partly because he could not endure that 
 anyone who was, as it were, sanctified by the compassion 
 of Beatrice, should remain in distress. He decided, not 
 perceiving any better course, to send his lyrotégé to Marco 
 Visconti, who, for his sake, would, he was sure, place 
 the man in one of his numerous castles. He accordingly 
 sent for the necessary implements to write a letter to 
 Marco, but — who would believe it ? — in all that district 
 there could not be found an inkstand, a pen, or a piece 
 of parchment for their weight in gold ! The priest did 
 not trouble himself with writing ; the apothecary and the 
 few local gentry had no idea how to use a pen. And 
 this was not a peculiarity of the priest, the doctor, and 
 the gentry of Varenna : it was the same story every- 
 where, and not only on the Lake of Como, but in all the 
 country, in all Italy, in all Europe ; and it was but 
 natural. In a century when nothing was thought of 
 but swords and lances and crossbows, fortresses and 
 castles and battle-fields, how could literature flourish — 
 a tender, sensitive plant, which loves shade and solitude, 
 and cannot stand being contemned and trampled upon ? 
 
 F
 
 QQ MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 To cut matters short, the falconer bethought himself of 
 an old notary who used to inhabit Perledo, a small 
 village on the mountain, on the skirts of which was 
 situated Varenna, so he hastened up there and returned 
 with all that was needed, though it must be owned they 
 had some difficulty in diluting the ink, which had been 
 dried up for more than a year. 
 
 In thedetter which Ottorino wrote about Pelagrua, he 
 was obliged to explain why and how it was he had be- 
 come concerned in this man's affairs ; he therefore nar- 
 rated all that had happened to himself, from his squire's 
 combat dov\Ti to that present time. He spoke of the 
 Count del Balzo, in whose castle he was about to pass 
 some days, and then he touched on Beatrice, who was 
 still uppermost in his mind, and dwelt on her more than 
 was quite wise, if he did not wish it to be noticed. In 
 short, wishing to describe the maiden to his chieftain 
 in the most graphic manner, he, with youthful vehemence, 
 asserted that she was, in the opinion of everyone, the 
 exact image of her mother, both in person and manners, 
 and these words were the first sparks — but we must not 
 forestall events. 
 
 Our party embarked altogether in a hired gondola, 
 and arrived at Limonta towards evening. Here they 
 found a rumour current that the Abbot of San Ambrogio 
 was determined to punùsh severely the insurrection, 
 whatever might be the issue of the ordeal. This and 
 other causes united together, the arrival that morning of 
 the poor drowned corpse, the harrowing spectacle of the 
 desolation of his parents, and the long waiting for the 
 Count's boat, so surprisingly deferred, now all helped 
 to cool that first ardour of gratitude towards the youth- 
 ful victor ; so that when Lupo came ashore, he did not 
 find the crowd he expected, nor was he received with 
 the triumph and applause he had hoped for. He re- 
 membered certain proud dreams he had allowed his 
 fancy to indulge in when seated on the prow of the boat 
 the day before, as he left the shore of Bellano, and felt 
 somewhat mortified. 
 
 The pi'iest remained at Limonta ; all the others, mount-
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 67 
 
 ing horses which were in readiness for them, ascended 
 the steep and narrow road to the castle. 
 
 Ermehnda received with her usual kindness her young 
 guest, who was especially welcome to her from the re- 
 membrance of the close friendshijj that once had sub- 
 sisted between him and her poor son ; but very soon she 
 began to experience some uneasiness at the attentions 
 she saw him bestow on Beatrice — and the more that 
 it did not escape the penetration of the good mother 
 that the girl received them with much modest com- 
 placency. 
 
 Soon she observed that a conscious and reserved 
 happiness had taken the place of the open, frank mirth 
 of the young maiden ; she saw her blush if she questioned 
 her about Ottorino, and lower her eyes, not daring to 
 meet the maternal glance, so that she began to be seri- 
 ously disturbed. Not that she considered this an unsuit- 
 able match for her daughter, for indeed it would have 
 been impossible to provide for her in a more distinguished 
 manner, but there was a general report that the young 
 knight was already engaged to marry a daughter of 
 Franchino Rusconi, a noble of Como, and that Marco 
 Visconti was arrano^ino- the affair. 
 
 As to the Count, enchanted to have in his house a 
 knight of such reputation, a cousin of the Abbot, a 
 follower of Marco, he was much occupied in making 
 the visit as pleasant as possible ; and whenever it was a 
 question of a banquet, a hunting party, or an expedition 
 in the neighbourhood, Beatrice was always with them, 
 for her father could not bear to stir without her. At 
 every moment he sang the praises of his young guest, 
 and it was his pleasure to go over all that he had done 
 for their protection at the time of the shipwreck, re- 
 calling every moment of that day, of those hours passed 
 on the rocks, which the girl remembered perhaps already 
 only too well, and always with an emotion, and with a 
 thrill which was not all terror. 
 
 The Count had discovered recently in the knight one 
 virtue which, in his eyes, gave a higher value to all the 
 others : and this was a deference to his opinion ; a willing
 
 G8 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 perseverance in listening to all the stories of his doings, 
 and in acquiescing in his boasting chat. 
 
 " He is a polite yonth," he said ; " not like those raw 
 boys one sees now-a-days, who are hardly out of the 
 nurseiy, when they pretend to instnict their elders. 
 Did you notice," he asked Beatrice, one day, " how, 
 when I was explaining to him all the circumstances of 
 the combat between Lupo and Ramengo, how attentively 
 he listened to me for a couple of hours, without stirring 
 a finger ? " And this was the simple truth, for all that 
 time the boy, who was sitting close to Beatrice, was as 
 one might say, in a trance, and had never heard a syl- 
 lable of what was said. 
 
 If Ermelinda departed at times from her usual diffi- 
 dence, and begged her husband to be more on his guard, 
 he called her fears ridiculous fancies, and desired her 
 to be silent on the subject. The good lady, not being 
 able as she wished, to clear up the affair by mentioning 
 it candidly to Ottorino, because the Count had decidedly 
 forbidden her to do so, was obliged to be content with 
 the only other course open to her, which was to write 
 to Como to ascertain the truth and the nature of the 
 engagement into which the knight had entered, and 
 while she was waiting for the information, to watch her 
 daughter carefully, and to try to keep her from the 
 company of the youthful guest, and to distract her 
 thoughts from him. 
 
 The maiden, though slightly self-willed and capricious, 
 as young people are apt to be, was in the main of a very 
 sweet disposition : as it happened, she had always loved 
 her mother with more reverence, and even tenderness, 
 notwithstanding her occasional severity, than the Count 
 with all his indulgence ; and was more pleased with a 
 smile or caress from her than with all her father's more 
 open demonstrations. 
 
 But since Ottorino had been at the castle, a notice- 
 able change in this particular had arisen. Ermelinda, 
 with her somewhat cold maioner, with those words some- 
 times of admonition, sometimes of reproof, held tlie 
 girl at a distance, chilled and blighted as it were her
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 69 
 
 soul, full of a new life, of an unknown sensation wlaicli 
 prompted tier to confidence and enthusiasm. The name 
 of the young man, which filled her with joy when men- 
 tioned by the Count, caused her to tremble with fright, 
 when she heard it from her mother ; in consequence she 
 escaped as much as she could from being alone with 
 her, and it is not to be wondered at that the great love 
 which she had always borne her should diminish from 
 day to day in some degree. What more shall I say ? 
 She, having at times surprised in her heart a shrinking 
 distaste which quite alarmed her, would then reproach 
 herself bitterly and make a thousand good resolutions to 
 return to her former filial cordiaHty, which she had not 
 the strength to keep. 
 
 This struggle lasted a few more days, when suddenly 
 a message arrived from Marco Visconti, which caused 
 Ottorino to announce that in two days he was expected 
 at Milan. 
 
 To Beatrice this appeared a dream ; she could not 
 realize that he would really have to depart ; she found it 
 so charming to be with him ; when she was separated 
 from him, she thought how she should see him again in 
 two, three, or four hours ; this thought occupied and 
 consoled her during the whole time of his absence ; the 
 hours passed away, and Ottorino re-appeared ; but when 
 he was gone what should she do all the day, all those 
 long evenings ? 
 
 She recalled to her mind the happy days she had 
 spent in her home, before this fatal guest had come. 
 Her mother, her young attendant, her lute, her books, 
 her bay steed : but her heart no longer responded to 
 these images, formerly so much to her ; it was like 
 touching the keys of a harpsichord of which the strings 
 were broken. 
 
 The next day, the day before Ottorino's departure, 
 was destined by the Count to be the occasion of a hawk- 
 ing-party, and Beatrice had already been told that she 
 was to accompany it. 
 
 " I want you to see my birds fly," said her father to 
 his guest, " and you shall tell me if Marco Visconti has
 
 70 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 any to compare to tliem ; you will see sparrow-hawks, 
 Irish gerfalcons, and some from Norway and Denmark ; 
 I have some brought up at home, and others from foreign 
 parts : and a splendid pack of hounds famous for both 
 staunchness and breed. And then I have to show you 
 my favourite falcon, trained by myself, because I like 
 accustoming one of them to my hand on a new plan, 
 which I have invented myself." 
 
 That same day arrived a letter from Como, after re- 
 ceiving which, Ermelinda remained for a long time in 
 consultation with her husband. Beatrice from her room, 
 where she had shut herself up with her attendant, heard 
 the voices of her parents raised with the excitement of a 
 dispute, and guessed the subject of it only too well. 
 
 All the day she managed to keep away from her 
 mother, and to join her only in the evening at supper. 
 She saw her then silent and sad, and from time to time 
 looking at the girl as if she had a secret to reveal to her. 
 Afraid to find herself alone with her, as soon as she could 
 do so fairly, under excuse of having to rise early in the 
 morning for the chase, she took the liberty of retiring for 
 the night. As soon as she was shut into her room she 
 felt new life, and seated herself before a mirror to have 
 her hair arranged by Lauretta before lying down. The 
 damsel, who had discovered the secret of her young mis- 
 tress's heart, began to speak of Ottorino with hidden 
 meaning, which Beatrice would willingly have resented, 
 and would have shown her displeasure, if the flames of 
 colour which the words called to her cheeks could have 
 been attributed to irritation rather than to modesty. 
 
 The hair being finished, Lauretta was abou.t to undress 
 her, when a gentle knock was heard at the door, and Er- 
 melinda's voice saying, " Open ; it is I." 
 
 " Leave me with her," continued she to the attendant, 
 who had hastened to undo the fastenings, and now with 
 a curtsey retired into the next room. 
 
 Beatrice, now alone with her mother, would have 
 gladly sunk through the floor with confusion, and cast- 
 ing down her eyes, waited for what she was to heaj". 
 
 " I see that ray presence is not welcome," began Er-
 
 MAECO TISCONTI. 71 
 
 melinda, " and I grieve to see it ; and I grieve for you, 
 my child." 
 
 The maiden tried to answer, but her voice was stifled ; 
 she stammered indistinctly some senseless words, and 
 then was silent. 
 
 " I never could have believed that you would fear 
 your mother," continued the lady ; " it is true that lately 
 I have seen that you are changed in some way towards 
 me, that you are not so fond of me as you used to be ; 
 but what have I done to you to make you afraid ? It is 
 too sad for one who loves you so much." 
 
 "I do not fear: why should I ?" answered the girl, 
 vehemently, for the vexation of seeing herself so agi- 
 tated had restored some of the natural vigour of her 
 character. 
 
 " Beatrice, why do you answer with such invitation ? " 
 said the mother in a severe voice ; but afterwards, as 
 if she could not resist a sudden impulse, she took one 
 of her daughter's hands in hers, and went on : " Listen 
 to me, my dear ; do not speak so to your mother. l)o 
 you believe that I could have any thought or care in 
 the world but to see you happy ? I have no other 
 blessing but you — you are my only comfort. Oh ! if 
 you could know how grieved I am every time I see my- 
 self obliged to thwart you ; but it is necessary some- 
 times when it is my duty, and for your good. Do you 
 remember, my darling, when you were very little, and 
 fell very ill, and one day were crying to have some milk ? 
 You may believe that it nearly broke my heart to refuse 
 you the milk, but I did so, for it would have been in- 
 jurious to you. Now I know not what may have been 
 passing through that obstinate little head, but you will 
 understand now." 
 
 " But what do you mean to imply ? " asked Beatrice, 
 half moved, and half angry at her own emotion. 
 
 " I mean this — but come, do not look at me with 
 those frightened eyes. No, my dear daughter, you will 
 never hear a bitter word from your mother's mouth ; 
 come here, listen to me, calmly and tenderly, as I 
 promise to speak to you. Ottorino goes to-morrow."
 
 72 MAECO VISCONTI. 
 
 The girl, at the mention of that name, felt herself 
 turn to ice, but, putting* force on herself, she answered 
 with the greatest appearance of indiiJerence that she 
 rould muster, " Yes, I know ; but what is that to 
 me?" 
 
 " More than I could wish for yours and my peace," 
 replied Erm elinda in a stern voice ; "do not deceive me ; 
 you cannot blind one who reads your heart." 
 
 " But what harm have I done ? I have only obeyed 
 my father." 
 
 " Yes, you were very anxious to obey your father these 
 few last days, more anxious than you ever were before. 
 Once you paid some little attention to my wishes, and 
 without displeasing him, you ruled your life according 
 to my counsels ; but, my poor child, I do not mean to 
 reprimand you, you did not know what you were doing 
 — you thought, perhaps — it is true the fault is in a 
 great degree also mine, but I ought to have spoken to 
 you before with greater decision ; and yet 1 also had a 
 secret hope, but now I know positively " 
 
 "And what do you know ? " asked the girl, fixing 
 her eyes on her mother's as if to draw out the sense of 
 her words before she uttered them. 
 
 " I know that Ottorino — in short, you must never 
 think again of him, because he has already given his 
 promise, and soon will be the husband of the daughter 
 of Franchino Rusconi, a noble of Como." 
 
 Beatrice became as red as fire, and then as pale as if 
 she had just risen from the dead ; she, however, tried 
 for another moment to control herself, forcing on her 
 trembling lips a smile, which soon was dissipated, for, 
 quite overwhelmed and conquered by her feelings, she 
 began to weep. 
 
 The mother read in those tears the confession which 
 shame had extinguished on the lips, and so putting her 
 arms round her daughter, and tenderly kissing her, she 
 said, " Yes, weep, my darling, weep with your mother. 
 Do you think I do not know how to pity you, that I 
 think less well of you for this, that you have fallen in 
 my opinion ? No, my dear, my good child. If it was
 
 MARCO VISCONTI 73 
 
 possible for you to be nearer my heart than you were 
 before, you are so now on account of these tears." 
 
 Beatrice, subdued by these words, and still more by 
 the inexpressible affection with which they were pro- 
 nounced, threw her arms round her mother's neck, and 
 hid in that loving bosom her heated face, and while still 
 sobbing clung to her with affection. 
 
 "Now, you see for yourself," Ermelinda went onto 
 say, still much affected ; " you see that it will not be 
 seemly for you to be with him so familiarly as you were 
 before ; and that if your father still gives you opportu- 
 nities, it is that he is far from having the least suspicion 
 of his precious daughter ; but you who know your weak- 
 ness, might by chance even betray yourself to him him- 
 self. In short, decorum demands that you should keep 
 yourself away from him. To-morrow he will be out 
 all day, and you will stay vsdth me ; the day after, he is 
 going away, and you will be free from all anxiety, and 
 everything will remain secret between us two." She 
 was going on to tell her what to reply to her father if he 
 came in the morning to summon her for the hawking- 
 party, but at that moment she heard a footstep come up 
 the stairs, which she recognized as the Count's ; and, 
 not wishing to be found there by him, she tore herself 
 hastily from her daughter's arms, and, giving and re- 
 ceiving a last kiss, she went out, saying, " Your father 
 is there ; I must go." 
 
 Beatrice spent some time in composing herself, and 
 then called her damsel to undress her. Lauretta saw 
 that she was quite overcome, and did not venture to 
 speak to her ; except when she had put her to bed, she 
 asked, according to her usual custom, what book she 
 should bring her to read that evening. " Shall I give 
 you the one you like so much, with the devils and the 
 tortured souls ? " ^ 
 
 " No ; lower the curtains, put out the light, and go 
 away." 
 
 ' The "Inferno" of Dante; at that time (1329), only eight 
 years after the death of the writer, a novelty in Italy, eageriy sought 
 after by all people in whatever rank or station of life.
 
 74 MARCO YISCONTI 
 
 " And in the morning I am to awake you at dawn, 
 am I not, so as to be ready for the hawking ? " . 
 
 " No, do not come till I call you " 
 
 " And what dress ? " 
 
 " That is enough, go and leave me alone." 
 
 "Rough weather to-night," said the maid to herself, 
 and obeyed. 
 
 Then Beatrice, throwing aside all restraint in her 
 misery, pi'essed her face against the pillows so that her 
 sobs should not be heard. The bed seemed to her to be 
 full of thorns and briars ; she could find rest in no 
 position ; she sat up, so as to recover her breath, then 
 returned to hide herself under the coverlid, and to pour 
 out her soul in disconsolate weeping. 
 
 It seemed to her as if she could see the daughter of 
 Rusconi, looking beautiful and proud, riding on the 
 shores of Como, and Ottorino galloping gaily at her 
 side, and exchanging with her soft words and caresses. 
 She tried in every way to dismiss these images, strug- 
 gled with all her might to forget the past, to throw her- 
 self into the future, to find some resting-place ; but the 
 past and the future were alike — languid and dead and 
 monotonous : she only saw in life an end of all things ; 
 every attempt to change the subject of her thoughts 
 ended in the same cruel fancies returning stronger than 
 ever for being repulsed, like a victorious army taking 
 forcible possession of an assaulted citadel. 
 
 At last, conquered by fatigue and trouble, she sank 
 into a tardy slumber, full of agitated dreams. But 
 when in the morning she awoke, a little before dawn, 
 she felt a faint ray of hope, without knowing whence 
 she had derived it ; and when she again thought of her 
 sorrows, there burst on her an idea which must have 
 slowly worked into her mind during the night, and, in 
 some measure, cooled the great flame that had been 
 kindled there. 
 
 This idea was, that it was possible what her mother 
 had told her of Ottorino might not be true, and that she 
 ought not too hastily to condemn him. So straight- 
 forward and good as he was, she said to herself, and
 
 MAKCO VISCONTI. 75 
 
 after his frank and open conduct ! And yet tlie first 
 belief continued to make her heart ache, and she longed 
 to be reheved from it. If she could have found herself 
 with her father, it would have been easy to have made 
 him clear up this mystery, without allowing him to per- 
 ceive the real clue to it ; but her father was to start at 
 dawn, and if she did not accompany him she would not 
 see him till evening, she would remain all the day in this 
 agony of mind, and on his return it might be difficult to 
 see him alone, so as to make him act before Ottorino 
 departed, and he was to go very early the next day. 
 She resolved to rise betimes to be ready at the first 
 summons, to see her father alone while the last prepara- 
 tions were going on, and to lead him to her purpose, 
 firmly decided, at the same time, not in any case to ac- 
 company him on the expedition, in order not to disobey 
 her mother. 
 
 She then called Lauretta to dress her, who arrayed 
 her in the hunting-dress, prepared the evening before, 
 without Beatrice, who was deep in her own thoughts, 
 perceiving it. When she heard her father's voice, she 
 went down into his room, where she found him alone. 
 
 The Count hastened to meet his daughter : " Now," 
 he said, " everything is ready ; let us go." 
 
 " I am only come, dear father, to salute you, and 
 wish you good morning," replied Beatrice, much em- 
 barrassed. 
 
 " Why, you silly child, what nonsense is this ? " 
 
 "No," said she, resisting him when he was about to 
 lead her out. " Let me stay here a minute ; sit down, 
 and let us speak a few words." 
 
 " You will have time to say a thousand words to me, 
 instead of a few. We shall be together all day. Now 
 that you are ready let us go without delaying the 
 others." 
 
 " I have told you that I am not coming, and that I 
 wish to stay at home." 
 
 " And I tell you to have done with such nonsense, 
 and not to play the child." 
 
 Directly after this dispute Ottorino appeared in the
 
 76 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 room, and after the usual greetings, asking the father's 
 leave, he took the maiden's hand, and conducted her 
 into a courtyard, where a palfrey was awaiting her. 
 The girl, as if bewitched, made no resistance ; for one 
 instant the idea of her mother's displeasure flashed across 
 her mind, but how could she tarn back, now that she 
 was found at this early hour in her riding-dress ? She 
 would have to explain, to give her reasons, and she felt 
 her mind waver, and indeed at that juncture had no 
 breath to utter a word. 
 
 The young knight took the horse's bridle fi'om the 
 hand of a page, and gave it to the damsel ; and then, 
 bending one knee on the ground, with the other he made 
 a support for her delicate foot, and, hardly touching 
 him, she sprang up into the saddle. 
 
 Ottorino arranged her stirrup, the father familiarly 
 took his arm, and they set off on foot, followed by the 
 falconer and by four pages, with falcons on their wrists, 
 and dogs in leashes. 
 
 The Count began to talk of his hounds and his 
 sparrow-hawks to the young man, who, you may believe 
 did not listen to him with much attention when he saw 
 Beatrice at his side, not uttering a word, or ever raising 
 her eyes to his face. 
 
 He, after having asked her if she was well, if anything 
 had happened, how she liked the ride, what she thought 
 of the weather, and such-like subjects, became entirely 
 silent, for the manner with which she received these 
 observations deprived him of all courage to renew them. 
 And thus the field remained open to the Count, who 
 took every advantage of it, as was his wont. 
 
 After perhaps a couple of hours, they arrived in a 
 chestnut wood, when the pages and the falconer loosed 
 the dogs from the leashes, who dispersed about, ranging 
 in all directions with their noses down, while the hawk- 
 ing-party and Ambrose ascended a hiUock which looked 
 over the scene of action. 
 
 They were hardly aiTived there, when the Count 
 turning to his daughter, said to her, " Look at Diana, 
 how keen she is ! " and pointed to a setting dog who was
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 11 
 
 coming towards them, witli its nose intent on tlie ground, 
 waving its tail. " How steady she is ! she is after a 
 woodcock. Quick, take off Garbino's hood ; quick — 
 how slow you are this morning ! Let him fly now that 
 he has seen it ; so, that's right ! Look what a fine flight ! 
 Oh, nothing escapes him ! Well done, my Garbino ! 
 With what fury he seizes it ! See, he has got it ! " 
 
 In fact, the falcon might now be seen to descend from 
 the air with its prey, and fall with it in a heap, on the 
 skirts of the little hill where the sportsmen had taken 
 up their position. The Count ran down to take his 
 woodcock from Garbino's claws, and the young knight 
 took the opportunity to approach Beatrice, and to say, 
 in an agitated manner, " For pity's sake, tell me what is 
 the matter ! If I have vexed you in any way, do not 
 torment me thus, Beatrice, I implore you ; you know I 
 must leave you to-morrow." 
 
 "I know," interrupted the girl, with a smile that ill 
 concealed the bitterness of her heart ; " I know that you 
 go to-morrow, for my mother has told me something of 
 which you left me in ignorance ; she has told me that 
 you are to take the road to Como." 
 
 Although she tried to say these words with indiffe- 
 rence, she could not help showing her secret feeling, 
 and this the young man rapidly perceived. 
 
 He turned quite red, and began : " Hear me ! I can- 
 not deny — I had not seen you then — but I swear to you 
 on my honour, Beatrice, I swear that for you alone — " 
 but his words were cut short by the arrival of the Count, 
 who was crying out to his falconer — " Give the bird his 
 bill-full, and put on the hood quickly." 
 
 The maiden was convinced by the words, and still 
 more by the agitation, of her companion, that the news 
 her mother had announced to her was true. All at once 
 she felt struck down, and as it wei'e annihilated ; but 
 recovering herself as quickly as she could, and feeling 
 deeply ashamed of her humiliation, she felt her native 
 pride return to her heart, nourished as it had been so 
 long by the habit of seeing everything yield to her wishes ; 
 and fi'om that moment showing' herself intent on the
 
 78 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 clogs and the falcons, as if she was really devoted to the 
 sport, she never left all that day her father's side, nor 
 addressed a word or look to Ottorino, so that she suc- 
 ceeded in poisoning all the pleasure he had promised 
 himself from that expedition. 
 
 The morning after, the young knight departed for 
 Milan, accompanied by Lupo ; and she, full of her resent- 
 ment, at first felt his going a real relief. Her mother 
 appeared grave and severe that day, and this only 
 increased her anger ; far from acknowledging her fault, 
 she considered herself to be the one offended. 
 
 Disgusted with everybody and everything, she retired 
 early to rest that evening, and the waiting-maid, who 
 saw that her brow was again clouded, left her with her 
 light burning, and departed as quickly as she could. She 
 took from her table a parchment volume bound in leather, 
 which was the " Inferno " of Dante. 
 
 When Lauretta, the evening before, spoke of a book 
 with devils and lost souls, she meant this one, because 
 at the beginning of each canto there was an illunaination 
 which represented their figures. How priceless that 
 copy would be considered in a collection in our days ! 
 
 Beatrice pursued this study unknown to her mother ; 
 and even the Count required a great deal of urging 
 before allowing her to read the book. It was not at all 
 that he was afraid that the " Divina Commedia " would 
 not be proper reading for a young girl ; no, it was only 
 because of an old grudge which he had against Alighieri, 
 on account of the Latin work entitled, " De Monarchia," 
 published by that staunch Ghibelline many years before, 
 as we have already mentioned, and which now, in these 
 present times — that is to say, some years after the death 
 of the author — began to make a great noise in Italy and 
 Germany. 
 
 Only a few days before Ottorino's arrival at the castle, 
 the Count had at last granted the long-wished-for 
 volume to his daughter. It was, however, only the first 
 poem, for though in Tuscany at that time the " Pur- 
 gatorio " and some cantos of the " Paradiso " were read, 
 in Lombardy the " Inferno " alone was known.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 79 
 
 Beatrice had begun to read it in the evening, vrhen 
 she was shnt up alone in her room, and studied it with 
 great eagerness ; and the delight naturally to be tasted 
 in those weird pages, full of life and passion, was in- 
 creased by the sad charm which the rebellious hearts of 
 the daughters of Eve find in forbidden fruit. 
 
 She stretched out, as we have said, her hand to take 
 the volume, opened it, and heard something rustle among 
 the leaves, and afterwards fall to the ground. What 
 could it be ? A paper — a letter — for her ? From whom ? 
 But was there need to ask that ?
 
 80 MARCO TISCONTI. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE reader will remember the half-finished speech 
 which the Count addressed under his breath to 
 Ottorino on the subject of Marco and Ermelinda when 
 they were on their way from Ballano, to the effect that 
 the Visconte in past times had tried hard to win that 
 lady for his wife, and that terrible misadventures had 
 prevented this result, and had caused much strife and 
 bloodshed. Now Beatrice, who, without appearing to do 
 so, had, as we have said, heard everything, felt a great 
 inclination to learn the particulars of this affair ; and not 
 thinking it right to question outsiders, had often asked 
 her waiting-maid to learn the story from her own mother, 
 the falconer's wife, who had been from a girl in the 
 service of Ermelinda, and would know everything at 
 length. 
 
 Lauretta, to whom everything appeared right that 
 would please her mistress, and who desired now more 
 than ever to find means to encourage and cheer her, 
 instead of always seeing her weary and sad, set herself 
 to coax her mother with such loving caresses that she, 
 after having put the story off from day to day, at last, 
 one evening when they were alone, making a long pre- 
 amble that these were not things for a girl to know, and 
 that she must take care never to repeat them, began the 
 history in this manner : — 
 
 " Simon Crivello, the father of Ermelinda, was very 
 intimate with the father of Marco, and meeting often nt 
 each other's houses, the young people, as was natural, 
 had become attached, and Marco had promised my mis- 
 tress to marry her. Young people are too quick about 
 such things ; they ought to find out first what their 
 parents think. As to Crivello, he would have accepted 
 the match v/illingly, but the difficulties all came from
 
 MARCO YISCONTI. 81 
 
 the side of Matteo Visconti, father of Marco, who was at 
 that time among the very first in the land, and wished 
 his son to mate with nothing less than great princesses 
 and daughters of crowned kings. Time passed on, and 
 nothing came of it. And mark this ! Ermelinda ought 
 at the beginning to have listened to her mother, who 
 told her that she should not speak to one who could 
 never hope to marry her. She had sure enough told 
 her this, but young people will not he ruled." 
 
 " Well, at last what happened ? " interrupted Lauretta, 
 impatient to come to the point. 
 
 " Why, I'll tell you what did happen ; the Visconti 
 were driven out of Milan, the Torriani got in there, and 
 it was clear that my lady's father, who had been so 
 friendly with Matteo, was one of the chief people in 
 managing the intrigue." 
 
 " Oh, what a shocking thing, and only for revenge at 
 the alliance being refused ! " 
 
 " Only too true ! Then Crivello, anxious to show the 
 new lords that he had entirely broken with the Visconti, 
 and for fear that Ermelinda should ever have a chance 
 of being reconciled to Marco, wished to make her at once 
 marry another man, the very Count here, who had 
 offered for her some time before. Fancy, the poor thing ! 
 what a situation for her ! She would not hear of break- 
 ing her promise to the Visconti, and she had to bear at 
 home anger, and misery, and threats ; so that she did 
 nothing but weep, and had no comfort of her life. Thus 
 about twenty days passed away, when (just listen, now) 
 I was awoke one night by a loud knocking at the door 
 of my room, and called out, ' Who is it ? ' ' Your father, 
 who has just come back from the Holy Land, and wants 
 to see you directly,' one of the grooms of the house 
 answered. In trath, my father had gone on a pilgrim- 
 age to the Holy Sepulchre some time ago, and was ex- 
 pected back every day. I quickly threw on a few clothes 
 and ran to open the door ; and there came in a man 
 dressed as a pilgrim, with a hood over his eyes and a 
 dark lantern in his hand. I threw my arms round his 
 neck. He put down the lantern and i-aised his hood. 
 
 G
 
 82 . MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 My claild, such, a fright I have never had since. Guess 
 who it was." 
 
 "Who? Marco?" 
 
 " Yes, sure, Marco Visconti himself in flesh and blood, 
 with his two eyes starting out of his head, asked me, 
 ' Where is Ermelinda ? ' ' For the love of God, for 
 the Holy Virgin's sake ! what do you want here ? ' I 
 said to him ; but he gripped my arm so that it remained 
 livid for days afterwards. ' Wlaere is Ermelinda ? ' he 
 insisted. ' You have not come for any evil purpose ? ' I 
 managed to say ; ' for pity's sake, have mercy on that 
 poor creature, who is already half dead ! ' 'Is she in 
 there ? ' he said, pointing to the room where she was. 
 I, who scarcely knew what I did, said, ' Yes ; ' and he 
 made two or three steps towards the door, then suddenly 
 stopped, as if he changed his mind, and said to me, ' Go 
 in and tell her quietly that I am waiting here to speak 
 to her.' What ought I to have done ? Escape ? that 
 was impossible. Scream out ? — he would have strangled 
 me. So I went and found my lady, already half risen, 
 who at my appearance asked me in a fright, ' What does 
 that light mean, and who is there ? ' and because I did 
 not answer at once, she began to cry, ' Shut the door ! — 
 shut the door ! ' But just then there was heard a plead- 
 ing voice, ' Ermelinda, do not fear ; it is I, your Marco ! ' 
 
 " Have you ever seen Tita, Tonio's wife, when all of a 
 sudden she is seized with a fit while she is talking and 
 laughing ? Well, just like her, my mistress became as 
 white as a sheet, and fainted dead away, so that I thought 
 she was dead, and ran out tearing my hair and weeping 
 like a lost soul. 
 
 " Marco, who out of good manners had not ventured 
 before to come in, now took the lantern, and we entered 
 the room together, and made her smell all kinds of 
 sceats, and bathed her face and temples, so that she 
 opened her eyes and came to herself. You ought to 
 have seen how like a lamb he behaved then ; afterwards, 
 they say, he became a villain, a very devil. It may be 
 true ; I do not deny it ; but he was then a good youth, 
 and feared God, and I can bear witness to it ; for see,
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 83 
 
 he did not venture to raise a finger to toncli lier, but did 
 all he could for her recovery, looking at her with a 
 reverence and a devotion as if she were, as one might 
 say, the Madonna — so humbly that he did not seem to 
 me like that great soldier and prince. When he saw 
 that Ermelinda had recovered, ' I am here,' he said, ' to 
 keep my promise — to marry you, and take you away 
 with me.' 
 
 " ' O holy Virgin ! Lord God ! ' exclaimed the girl, 
 without being able to say anything else. 
 
 " And he then (I remember all his words as if they 
 had only been spoken yesterday, they struck me so mach, 
 and then I have so often talked of them with my mis- 
 tress), and he then, smiling, like one inclined to weep — 
 " ' It seems to you not very courteous to ask you to 
 leave your home to follow the fortunes of one who hardly 
 knows where to lay his head.' 
 
 " ' Do not say so,' answered my lady, ' do not speak 
 like that ; you break my heart. For God's sake, fly, 
 fly soon, for if you are seen, may the Lord have pity on 
 us ! ' 
 
 " ' Fly ! ' repeated Marco. ' And do you think I have 
 travelled so far, exposed myself to so many perils, con- 
 cealing myseK among people who would willingly give 
 its weight in gold for my head, to turn back like a boy 
 — like an idiot ? ' 
 
 " ' But if my father found you here,' urged my mis- 
 tress, ' woe to you ! ' 
 
 " ' Woe to me ! Oh I do you think that if I did not 
 remember he was your father, I would leave this house 
 with unstained hands ? ' Ermelinda trembled all over. 
 ' Let us go at once,' insisted Marco. ' I have still some 
 friends who will g-uide us till I have brought you to a 
 safe place ; there is a horse ready for you below, and 
 when we get to Bergamo we will be betrothed. In the 
 interval, try to think that you are with your brother, or 
 that you are in church.' 
 
 " I had caught my lady by her dress, and whispered 
 to her, imploring her to take care of herself. I must say 
 that he soon found this out, for he put one hand on my
 
 84 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 shoulder, and said, ' Enough, Marianna ; leave her alone.' 
 The words vvei-e not so terrible, but he uttered them 
 with such a voice and expression, and with his ejes 
 flashing, that I grew cold to my very marrow. I held 
 up my hands, and felt turned to stone, as if I had seen a 
 basilisk. 
 
 " Then, Ermelinda, recovering her speech somewhat, 
 began to entreat him. 
 
 " ' Do you want me to run away from my home at 
 night in this way, as if I was a bad woman ? It would 
 make my poor mother die of grief and shame. Oh, no ! 
 let me alone ; kill me, rather ; kill me with your own 
 hand, and I will submit.' 
 
 " Marco stood for a moment, looking down at her, and 
 then uttered some mysterious words, which implied, that 
 if she refused to follow him, he would not be content to 
 have made this journey all for nothing, and that he 
 should immediately seek her father to confront him. 
 Perhaps, he said this only to frighten her into agreeing 
 to his wishes ; but, my lady, who took his meaning 
 seriously, began to tremble, and threw herself down on 
 the ground weeping, to implore him not to speak thus, 
 but to give up his intention, and not terrify her so, or 
 say such dreadful things with such passion ! But he 
 said nothing ; and even seemed to wish to withdraw ; 
 and at last he appeared determined, and moved towards 
 the door. Ermelinda then started to her feet like a mad 
 thing, caught him by his arm, and cried out : ' No, you 
 shall not leave this room till after you have killed me : 
 I will defend him ! ' 
 
 " It was like throwing a pail of water on the fire. 
 Visconti stopped, and resisted no longer. ' Very well,' 
 he said, with a smile, fit to fi-eeze all who saw it, ' ha 
 calm, you see I am still here ; I will not move another 
 step ; do not be afraid of my escaping ; call out, rouse 
 the house, and summon the assassins, I will not stir ! ' 
 
 " It is impossible to describe the effect of these words 
 on my mistress ; she let her arms fall, stepped back, and 
 remained a moment listening if any one was roused, but 
 hearing that all was quiet, she joined her hands together,
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 85 
 
 and said : ' Oli, Marco ! forgive me, lie is my father, 
 after all. How can you speak to m.e so .cruelly ? If you 
 knew how it wounds me. Oli, God above is witness 
 liow I would willingly give my life to save yours ! I 
 implore you to go away — to escape from here ; who 
 knows if already you have not been discovered ? Fly ! 
 for the love of God. If ever you have cared for me, fly 
 now.' 
 
 " But he coldly, in reply, held out his hand to her and 
 said : ' Let us go together then. ' But when he saw that 
 she drew back : ' No ! you will not come ? Well, I de- 
 clare to you that I will not leave this room except in 
 your company. See what I am doing ? ' and he sat 
 down on the table, crossing one leg over the other, and 
 folding his arms on his chest, as one resolved not to stir. 
 'I will wait here till to-moiTOw,' he went on, 'when 
 some one must come in ; perhaps, it will be your father ; 
 so if you want to preserve him from danger you know 
 what you have to do. Go to the window, and cry out 
 that Marco is in your room ; let them come ! let them 
 come in troops, I shall not stir.' 
 
 " Fancy, what a dreadful position for us ; I on one 
 side, Ermelinda on the other, began to weep, and to 
 implore him with as earnest prayers as when one prays 
 before the cross ; but it was just as lost labour as if one 
 wanted to move II Legnone out of its place. 
 
 " When my lady saw that there was no remedy, 
 ' Then if you wall compel me,' she said, and rising, she 
 knelt down before the figure of the Madonna, which was 
 at the head of her bed, and remained an instant in 
 prayer, then rising, she said to me — ' You will tell my 
 mother.' But her tears stifled her voice. The young 
 knight took her hand, and she walked after him with a 
 vacant expression, as one asleep. But they were no 
 farther than the threshold, when they heard a storm of 
 footsteps dashing up the staircase. Marco stopped one 
 moment ; then drawing suddenly back, he struck his 
 forehead and exclaimed — 'We have no time now.' In 
 the twinkling of an eye he had shut the door, locked it 
 inside with the key, opened his doublet with one hand,
 
 86 MARCO TISCONTI. 
 
 and drew out a poniai'd, with tlie other he took from his 
 neck a gold chain, and with a vigorous pull, Invoke it in 
 the middle, hid one half in his bosom, and placed the 
 other in Ermelinda's hand, sajing eagerly to her — ' This 
 will be the token of onr constancy. I hope to return 
 soon in another condition than now ; in any case, do not 
 break your word ; till you receive the other half of this 
 broken chain, you will know that I am alive, and that 
 my only thought is to make you my wife.' He was 
 still speaking, when a vehement knock was heard at the 
 door. Marco opened a window, which looked on the 
 garden, and leapt down. I ran to let in those outside, 
 who were now storming at the door, as if they wished to 
 batter it down. In rushed seven or eight armed men, 
 and began to search everywhere ; but hearing a loud 
 uproar below, they went oif in a great hurry to add 
 to it. 
 
 " We poor creatures knew nothing more all night : 
 there were shouts and steps and blows, then all was 
 silence. 
 
 " In the morning Milan was full of the affair. In 
 Crivello's garden, two servants of the house were found 
 dead ; and the story was, that Marco had already got in 
 safety beyond the barriers, when he found that he had 
 dropped his helmet, so he turned back, spurred his horse 
 against a man who had picked up that piece of armour, 
 gave him a blow on the temple which stretched him for 
 dead on the ground, jumped down from his horse, re- 
 covered his helmet, sprung on his saddle, and was still 
 in time to save himself." 
 
 At this point, Marianna, interrupting her story, said 
 to her daughter, " The rest I will tell you another time, 
 for you have been a long time here already, and your 
 young lady may want you ; so go along with you, my 
 child." 
 
 " No," answered Lauretta, " she wants nothing, I 
 have already put her to bed, and she has given me leave 
 to stay till to-morrow morning ; so go on, tell me the 
 rest." 
 
 " You are a naughty girl, who wants everything her
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 87 
 
 own way, and wiien you have set your heart on any- 
 thing " 
 
 "Now, dear mother, do tell me, there's a darling." 
 
 "At least, learn a good lesson from the story, and see 
 that children " 
 
 " Yes, yes ; go on." 
 
 "Now come more troubles for poor Ermelinda," said 
 Marianna, resuming her narrative ; "you will hear what 
 that poor unfortunate creature suffered, and I also, in 
 consequence, so listen. Crivello quite understood that 
 Marco had come with the intention of carrying off his 
 daucrhter, and imasjining' that it had been arranged be- 
 tween them, hurried up to her with even more anger 
 than usual ; and entering in a furious manner, assured 
 her, with many protestations, that Marco, if he had 
 taken her away, would never have married her; and 
 abused him and all his family with great violence ; end- 
 ing up with telling her that she must decide between two 
 courses : either to marry immediately the Count del 
 Balzo, or to wither away below the earth, where she 
 should not see the light of day. To tell the truth. Cri- 
 vello had been much in fault himself ; for as soon as he 
 perceived that the marriage was impossible, he ought 
 not to have allowed his daughter to continue to see 
 Marco, but he hoped to be able to entrap the Visconti ; 
 and this in my country is called playing fast and loose." 
 
 "And then what happened? " asked Lauretta, to set 
 the narrative again in train. 
 
 " Well, then, Ermelinda would not hear of breaking 
 her faith to Visconti, and her father kept his word, and 
 had her shut up in a tower. So this was the state of 
 things, the daughter in love, and the father severe. But, 
 no, I must tell you about myself, though what business 
 had I in the middle of it all ? It is an unlucky thing, 
 daughter mine, to depend upon others, perhaps more 
 particularly upon the great ; and now you'll hear. One 
 fine day, without any notice, they seized me, and stuck 
 me in a nasty room, like a prison, and began to persecute 
 me incessantly, and to frighten me in every way, and 
 all to make me tell my mistress's secrets. I remained
 
 88 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 firm for a time, but by degi^ees I allowed myself to be 
 questioned, and began to relate all that I knew, from 
 her first acquaintance with Marco down to his last ap- 
 pearance in Crivello's house, without concealing even 
 the new compact of the young people, or the token of 
 the chain which had passed between them ; I told all, in 
 short. After that I was allowed a little more liberty, 
 and treated rather more gently ; but as to leaving my 
 prison, that was not their game at all ! they kept me 
 shut up for six months more ; after which they told me 
 that Ermelinda had married the Count, our master here ; 
 that she wished for me, and so if I liked to go back to 
 her, as before, I might. 
 
 " You may believe that I did not require much urging. 
 They took me to Limonta, where I found my mistress, 
 who did not look like a bride, but more like a corpse 
 risen from the tomb, so fallen away did she look, and so 
 gone olì in beauty. She gave me a most warm welcome, 
 and presently told me that Marco had sent her back the 
 token of the chain, which she showed to me ; and I saw 
 it was the identical one, for I compared it with the piece 
 she still had, which left no doubt on the subject. Then 
 she told me the manner in which he had returned it to 
 her. 
 
 " During the time she was confined in the tower, she 
 was allowed to go out on the leads every day to breathe 
 a little fresh air. The tower looked on a court-yard, 
 where no one ever entered except the family of the Lord 
 of the Manor ; till one day, after perhaps four months, 
 a buffoon was admitted, who began to show off a number 
 of tricks, and at last threw in the air four or five oranges, 
 one after the other, caught them, and threw them up 
 again, wliile a Moorish girl danced to the sound of a 
 pipe. Now, while she sat among the battlements look- 
 ing at these wonders, she felt one of the oranges fall 
 into her lap, and saw written on the rind these words — 
 Marco and Ermelinda — so she opened the orange and 
 found in it a letter and the piece of chain I told you 
 about." 
 
 " Why, what a deceiver he was ! " burst out Lauretta 5
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 89 
 
 "it was acting basely to give lier up after so many vows 
 and fiery protestations." 
 
 " Stop a minute, don't be so hasty, and yon will bear. 
 My lady read me tbe letter, wbicb, young as she was, 
 she could make out as well as a clerk. He said that he 
 had heard what her father had made her suffer for his 
 sake, and he would not be the cause of her death ; that 
 he was also vehemently pressed by his own family to 
 marry a daughter of the Lord of Verona, who had 
 promised to assist in recovering his lost territory, and 
 so he went on, and concluded by releasing my mistress 
 from her promise, sending her the token agreed upon ; and 
 then he actually himself urged her to agree to marry the 
 Count del Balzo, who, he said, if he had no other recom- 
 mendation, was not at any rate an enemy of the Visconti." 
 
 " But then I was quite right," insisted Lauretta. 
 
 " If you would only let me finish." 
 
 " Well, go on. I'll not interrupt you again as long 
 as you have breath." 
 
 " Well, a year after (now attend), ErmeHnda was out 
 hunting one day on the plain of CoHco, and being apart 
 from the rest, she saw riding an armed man towards 
 her, mth his visor down, who, when he was close to her, 
 stopped, and said, — ' I am come to demand from the 
 Countess del Balzo the token given by Marco to Erme- 
 linda.' She recognized the voice immediately, and 
 nearly fell from her horse ; but had just strength enough 
 to iake from her bosom, where she always kept them, 
 the letter and the chain, and presented them to the 
 knight who had asked her for them." 
 
 " It was Marco, was it not ? " 
 
 " He himself. He read the writing, looked at the 
 chain, and gnashing his teeth like a wild beast, ex- 
 claimed, — ' The letter is forged, the chain was stolen 
 from me ; we have both been betrayed ! Farewell, 
 Ermelinda ! we may perhaps never meet again ; but if I 
 survive this shock you will hear more of me.' And then 
 to shake his bridle, plunge his spurs into his horse's 
 flanks, and to disappear behind some thickets, was the 
 work of a moment."
 
 90 MAECO VISCONTI. 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " exclaimed the girl, mucli afPected. 
 
 " In time," ptirsued Marianna, " it became known 
 that the chain had been taken from Marco's neck while 
 he was sick unto death, and sent to Crivello by, whom 
 do you think ? By that same groom who had knocked 
 at my door that night I described, and who had then 
 escaped with Visconti, and had entered his service. Out 
 of greediness for a large sum of money offered him by 
 Crivello, the wretch betrayed his new master as he had 
 done his old one ; but it was not necessary for him to go 
 to the Pope to get absolution. No, in truth, Marco set 
 olì to find him in France, where he had taken refuge, 
 and killed him with his own hand." 
 
 " Served him right ! " said Lauretta again; "it was 
 only what the rogue deserved." 
 
 " And Ermelinda's father had also to pay dearly for 
 his treachery, for Marco came upon him at Trezzo, 
 while fording the Adda, and pierced him through with 
 a lance." 
 
 "Now, I understand," said the daughter, "why our 
 mistress, when she by chance hears Marco's name men- 
 tioned, shakes all over, and seems to feel a shock through 
 her whole frame. But what was the explanation of the 
 buffoon and the oranges ? " 
 
 " Can't you guess ? That was a cunning invention of 
 Crivello's to give colour to the affair, and make his 
 daughter fall into the trap." 
 
 " Oh ! what a number of wicked devices to destroy a 
 poor creature ! " exclaimed Lauretta ; and then she 
 thanked her mother for her kindness, and ran off at 
 once to tell Beatrice all she had heard. 
 
 Having now come to the point where this Marco, of 
 whom we have spoken so often, first comes on the scene, 
 and will now take a considerable share in the events we 
 are about to relate, we must endeavour to lay before 
 our readers some idea of his past history and general 
 character. 
 
 Marco Visconti, the second son of the great Matteo, 
 had followed his father with fidelity and affection both 
 in prosperity and adversity, and had always been his
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 91 
 
 favourite. He was of a noble disposition, a ready wit, 
 and of great bodily activity, so that he had always been 
 among the first in all bodily sports and exercises which 
 appertained to a gentleman, according to the fashion of 
 the time. Yet even from a boy his incomparable supe- 
 riority had been forgiven by all his rivals on account of 
 the modesty of his demeanour, a virtue rendered more 
 than usually pleasing in him because of his noble birth, 
 his handsome countenance, and his personal activity. 
 But woe to any one that really crossed his inclinations, 
 or attempted to restrain his passionate and impetuous 
 nature, untamable both in anger and affection. No one 
 but his father, as long as he lived, had any authority to 
 control his iinpetuosity. 
 
 -A valiant and fortujiate leader in the field, he had 
 acquired by degrees a glorious repiitation as one of the 
 first captains of the age. The most celebrated of all his 
 exploits was the siege of Genoa, began and carried out 
 by him with a skill and determination which were con- 
 sidered marvellous at the time, against the whole power 
 of the Church, the chief Guelph cities of Italy, and King 
 Robert of Sicily. It was on that occasion, that having 
 received an intimation from that monarch, that if he 
 did not at once retire from the Genoese temtory, he 
 might expect to see him under the walls of Milan, he 
 sent back word to King Robert, that he need not trouble 
 himself to go so far as that, as he was to be found be- 
 neath the walls of Genoa itself at any time, and chal- 
 lenged him formally to single combat ; whereat history 
 says, the king was very angry, ^but thought it best to 
 take no notice. 
 
 Galeazzo, Marco's elder brother, who afterwards suc- 
 ceeded his father Matteo in the government of Milan, 
 was jealous of the reputation acquired by his younger 
 brother, and had frequently remonstrated with his father 
 for entrusting him with the flower of his troops, espe- 
 cially in such desperate enterprises ; which had engen- 
 dered a secret grudge between the two brothers. 
 
 But Matteo having died at a most critical period, ex- 
 communicated by the Pope, and not at all sure of the
 
 92 MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 allegiance of liis subjects, besides being hemmed in by 
 enemies on every side, his sons at once recognized the 
 necessity of all acting together ; so Marco reconciled 
 himself with his elder brother, and was of the greatest 
 assistance to him in the long fight he had to sustain 
 against the Church and the exiles. 
 
 However, as soon as Galeazzo found himself firmly 
 settled in his hereditary dominions, he made himself so 
 obnoxious to the Milanese by his tyrannical conduct, and 
 exorbitant taxation, that they soon were anxious to re- 
 gain the liberties of their old municipal life. Marco, too, 
 refusing to submit to the despotic rule of his brother 
 over a state that he had preserved and enlarged at the 
 risk of his own life, joined the malcontents in an en- 
 deavour to bring about a change of government, and 
 when the Grhibelline chiefs of several of the Italian cities 
 went to solicit Lewis of Bavaria, the Emperor elect of 
 Germany, to come to their assistance, Marco (as some 
 historians relate) went with them to Trent, and accused 
 his brother before that prince of intriguing with the 
 Pope to make his peace with the Church, and so betray- 
 ing the cause of the Ghibellines and the empire. The 
 same chroniclers go on to say, that it was in consequence 
 of that accusation that Lewis came to Milan, and laid 
 hands upon Galeazzo, his son Azzone, and his two 
 brothers, Luchino and Giovanni ; and having confined 
 them in the fortress of Monza, placed the territory under 
 the government of a viceroy of his own, Baron Guglielmo 
 di Monteforte. 
 
 But other contemporary historians assert, that it was 
 Marco himself who was arrested by the Bavarian, and 
 imprisoned with his brothers and his nephew, and one 
 writer says that afterwards he succeeded in escaping, 
 though others pretend that he obtained his release from 
 Lewis himself. 
 
 But this much is certain, that a short time afterwards, 
 when the Emperor passed from Lombardy into Tuscany, 
 and thence to Rome, when he committed the extra- 
 orcbnary folly of deposing John XXII. in favour of 
 another Pope after his own heart, Marco Visconti formed
 
 MARCO TISCOXTI. 93 
 
 one of his suite, and was liigh in Lis favour, and did his 
 utmost, both himself and by the aid of his friends, and 
 specially by that of Castruccio Castracani, Lord of 
 Lucca, to obtain the release of his relations. At last the 
 Emperor granted his request, and after eight months' 
 suffering, the Visconti were set free from the celebrated 
 prisons, the Forni (ovens) di Monza. These were cer- 
 tain chambers, placed one above another in the various 
 levels of the rocks, into which you were let down by a 
 hole in the roof, completely dark, with a convex and 
 uneven floor, and so low and narrow that a person could 
 neither stand upright nor lie down at full length, but 
 was forced to remain either in a stooping position, or 
 standing bent double, with indescribable torture. Ga- 
 leazzo himself had invented those horrible places, to tor- 
 ment his state prisoners in, but was however the first to 
 try them, thus fulfilling a prophecy current at the very 
 time when they were in course of construction. 
 
 Soon after his liberation, Galeazzo, worn out by the 
 severity of his incarceration, died near Pistoja, and thus 
 gave an opportunity for a large party at Milan, where 
 the Baron di Monteforte had already made himself un- 
 bearable, to declare themselves in favour of Marco. 
 
 But whether it was that Lewis the Bavarian took 
 umbrage at the name of that formidal:ile captain, and at 
 the affection felt by the Milanese for him, and felt that 
 he could not hope to domineer at his will over a disposi- 
 tion like his, or that he would not run the risk of 
 changing the order of succession already established by 
 custom, or that the Ghibelline lords threw su-sj^icion on 
 Marco's fidelity, or lastly, whether his two brothers, 
 Luchino and Giovanni, who were more in favour of the 
 pretensions of their young nephew Azzone, managed to 
 gain over the Empei-or with large promises of money, of 
 which he was always very fond, and at that time was 
 more in need of than usual, it is a fact that Jjewis of 
 Bavaria appointed Azzo Visconti, the son of Galeazzo, 
 as viceroy of the city and district, he binding himself to 
 pay Lewis a large sum for the investitui^e. 
 
 The Milanese were furious at this, and Marco, of-
 
 94 MAECO VISCONTI. 
 
 fended witli the Emperor, his brother, his nephew, and 
 the Ghibelline nobles, began a secret intrigue with the 
 city of Florence and with Cardinal Bertrando del Pog- 
 getto, the Pope's legate in Lombardy, and obtained from 
 them, as it appears, large promises of men and money to 
 help him to reinstate himself in the sovereignty of his 
 father's dominions. 
 
 And at this point in his history onr story begins to 
 treat of him in person.
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 95 
 
 CHAPTER Vili. 
 
 OTTORINO, who had hastened to Milan, in obedi- 
 ence to the summons sent him, now entered Marco's 
 palace, leaving Lupo in an outer hall in company with 
 some soldiers, while he passed on into an inner room, 
 where the master of the house was, at that moment, 
 engaged in dictating a letter to his secretary. 
 
 Marco, a man of tall and powerful stature, at the 
 time of this narrative had reached the prime of life. 
 The hardships which he had endured in his laborious 
 and stormy career had worn off the bloom and fire of 
 youth, and had substituted instead a stern and serene 
 gravity, a tempered pride, a somewhat melancholy ex- 
 pression which, without being absolutely soured and 
 perturbed by care and trouble, still shadowed forth the 
 habitual restlessness of his spirit. His face, which was 
 thin and unusually colourless, was set off by a thick, 
 soft, and coal-black beard, and by a pair of piercing eyes, 
 surmounted by overhanging eyebrows. From time to 
 time the fierce workings of his mind brought back the 
 colour to his cheeks, and with it the appearance of his 
 early youth and beauty, joined to a singular mixture of 
 haughtiness and difiidence. But at times, when seized 
 with a paroxysm of rage, his countenance was, in one 
 instant, entirely transformed ; then his habitual pallor 
 merged into a deathly hue, his forehead assumed an 
 awful frown, his eyes became dark and lurid with an 
 evil light, and the complete change might be compared 
 to the effect produced on the polished surface of a lake, 
 when a gnst of wind stirs it suddenly and excites a 
 storm. 
 
 He wore a mantle of black velvet, open in front and 
 lined with miniver, over a silk doublet fastened at the 
 waist by a band with a rich golden buckle, and in the
 
 96 MAECO YISCONTI. 
 
 belt was a laro-o poniard with a handle covered with 
 rubies; one of those weapons called at that time "miseri- 
 cordie," because when an enemy was vanquished in the 
 fight, this served to despatch him, giving him, in short, 
 the coup de grace. 
 
 His head was uncovered, and his black hair was 
 parted on his ample and noble forehead, and fell in thick 
 masses round his temples. When he saw Ottorino enter 
 the room, he made him a sign with his hand to sit down, 
 saying, " One moment, and I am at your service ; " then 
 turning to his secretary, who, with his pen suspended, 
 looked at his master, and made a movement to retire, 
 " No, no," he said, " go on, my cousin here ought to 
 know everything," and continued to dictate the last 
 sentences of a letter to the legate of the Pope at Bologna. 
 The letter was in the rough Latin of that time, and the 
 words which concluded it — those first heard by Ottorino 
 — translated as follows, ran thus : — 
 
 " Castel LejDrio and the Martesana still obey my 
 voice " (these districts were fiefs of Marco), " the friends 
 of the republic are not exhausted, the lion is asleep now, 
 but when I have roused him his roaring will be heard as 
 far as the Vatican ; the bearded drunkard " (the appella- 
 tion used in Milan to denote Lewis the Bavarian) " will 
 bite his nails soon. Long live the Church ! and death 
 to the traitors to their country ! my old war-cry." 
 
 To understand the force of these last words, we must 
 explain that Marco had uttered them eight years before, 
 when having discomfited the Pope's people, he had at- 
 tacked some Milanese exiles, who were fighting among 
 them. They were words that became famous at that 
 time, and that showed that in his secret heart Visconti 
 was not inimical to the Church, even when he opposed 
 her arms in hand. • 
 
 When the letter was finished, and the secretary de- 
 parted, Marco said to Ottoi'ino with a smile : " So you 
 are back at last ! You hardly ex^jected that I should 
 send after you, did jon ? " 
 
 " I did not think," began the boy, excusing himself. 
 
 "Enough — you are here now, and all is forgiven."
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 97 
 
 A few other words were exchanged, and then Marco, 
 putting his hand familiarly on his cousin's shoulder, 
 began to relate to him the causes that had determined 
 him in becoming reconciled with the Pope at Avignon, 
 and confided to him all his new schemes. 
 
 " So now it must be, ' Long live Pope Giovanni ! ' " 
 exclaimed Ottorino ; " but what will become of Kicholas 
 v., whose cause we have so often defended ? " 
 
 " He will become what he is already, a schismatic, and 
 a hy]Docrite." 
 
 " Then we must go to school, so as to learn the jargon 
 of the Guelphs." 
 
 " But you see by these means we shall be again blessed 
 by the Church," said Marco. 
 
 " Yes, but then the other side will excommunicate us," 
 replied Ottorino. 
 
 Then the celebrated Captain, becoming serious, began, 
 " After all, you know well that the legitimate Pope is 
 the one at Avignon. He has persecuted my father, our 
 family, all our friends; he has excommunicated us, he 
 has done us all the evil in his power ; but all the time he 
 has never ceased to be the true Pope. Do you think I 
 could feel at ease all these years, knowing* myself under 
 sentence of the Church ? " 
 
 The youth, who had never suspected any feelings like 
 these in the proud mind of his cousin, looked at him in 
 astonishment, and Hstened to him, as he proceeded with 
 an agitated mien. " The memory of my poor father has 
 often saddened the joy of my triumphs. To see that 
 venerable head, which you know might have raised itself 
 proudly above all the princes of Italy, under the Pope's 
 ban. He, the conqueror of the temporal forces of his 
 enemy, always ridiculed the spiritual ; but when full of 
 years he felt the approach of his last days, and that the 
 world was escaping from him, he began to fear him 
 whom he had despised all his life. The night will never 
 pass away from my recollection, when he, excited by 
 awful fancies, sent for all his household and for the 
 clergy of Saint Giovanni at Monza, and kneeling befoi-e 
 the altar repeated the creed of our religion, declaring 
 
 H
 
 98 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 that he wished to die in the pale of holy church, and 
 weeping bitter tears that his head could not be laid in 
 consecrated ground. If you had seen his face, which 
 had been calm in the midst of dangers, and serene 
 during the bitterness of exile, subdued by that mysterious 
 terror ! " 
 
 Ottorino could scarcely recover from his astonish- 
 ment, and if it had not been for the vehemence with 
 which Marco spoke, he would have questioned his being 
 in earnest. 
 
 " I always believed," said the young fellow, at last, 
 " that the case stood thus : Pope Griovanni was the 
 heretic and Niccolo the rightful one : I heard it so stated 
 by our theologians and by you, from whom, though you 
 are a soldier, they could often learn. Since I was a boy 
 I have done nothing but fight against this same Pope, 
 who was said to be false and now apparently turns out 
 all right. Well, I hardly know what to think of it all." 
 
 Marco composed his lips into a gloomy smile, and 
 then replied : 
 
 "You ought to be grateful to those vile Ghibellines 
 for having thrust us by force on the right road. Do 
 you know it is this very Pope who has opened voluntarily 
 his arms to me ? who has promised me the troops of the 
 Church to help me to conquer my paternal dominions ? 
 And do not believe that I should confide blindly in a 
 man who has always been my enemy. I trust in the 
 force of circumstances to constrain him to ally himself 
 with me for his safety. The power of the Bavarian is 
 diminishing from day to day ; many of his partizans, 
 outlawed, crushed, betrayed by him, and abandoning his 
 banner. Milan is still faithful to him, but I can make 
 her rebel. The Milanese are beginning to understand at 
 last on which side are justice and faith ; they are tired 
 out of the interdict." 
 
 "But, notwithstanding what you say," replied Otto- 
 rino, " the city is still quite full of preachers who go 
 through the streets and squares gathering audiences, 
 and crying out all manner of abuse of Giovanni XXII. ; 
 I heard one just now, close here, who was spouting out
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 99 
 
 big words, saying lie was a murderer, a sorcerer, and 
 plenty more." 
 
 " Well, you will soon hear another story." 
 
 " And what will that be ? " 
 
 " You will hear preaching against Niccolo, and in 
 favour of Giovanni." 
 
 " I can hardly believe you. It would be too bare- 
 faced." 
 
 " You see," said Marco, with a confiding gesture, 
 " that the Pope has given leave to some few priests to 
 go back into the district, in order to help me in my 
 enterprise, without they themselves knowing or suspect- 
 ing it ; I shall direct them secretly, with the help of 
 the Abbot of S. Vittore, and this very day they are 
 beginning to spread abroad to bring wanderers into the 
 fold." 
 
 " But if Azzone lays his hands on the first who appears, 
 and silences him ? " asked Ottorino. 
 
 " He won't do that ; he fears the people too much ; 
 and if he did it, he would repent it. Out of their blood 
 would arise many to revenge them. Do you believe 
 they are afraid of death ? What is death, after all ? Did 
 we not risk it many times on the field of battle for a 
 little land, for a mere name, for a childish caprice ? and 
 for him who has in view an eternal reward ? " But here 
 he stopped, lowered his head, and remained silent for a 
 few moments. When he looked up his excitement had 
 disappeared ; and turning to his cousin with an indiffe- 
 rent and somewhat sneering manner, he continued thus : 
 " And after all, Avignon has already made so many 
 martyrs in order to crush rue, that they might as well 
 make a few to set me on my feet again ; but you are 
 not going to have scruples ? " 
 
 " You don't think I should ? And besides, you know 
 T am only a weapon in your hand." 
 
 "And I put full trust in it, for I know well its fine 
 temper. I must tell you now what has been agreed 
 upon with our cousin Lodrisio ; he will begin to arm 
 his vassals under pretence of giving assistance at a time 
 of need to his brother, the Abbot of San Ambrogio, who
 
 100 . MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 is sending troops to Limonta to punisli those peasants 
 for their revolt : as jon have come from thence, of 
 course, you know all about it." 
 
 " Thoroughly, and I must say I am really sorry for 
 those poor mountaineers, who only escaped hj the hair 
 of their heads, and if it could be -" 
 
 " What would you have ? It is a fancy of the Abbot 
 Cardinal, and now we have so much upon us ! " 
 
 " And I am also annoyed," pursued the youth, " that 
 Count del Balzo, who lives close there, should have to 
 suffer inconvenience." 
 
 " Oh, by-the-bye, tell me something of that Count ; 
 is he still as great a chatterbox as he was as a young 
 fellow ? " 
 
 " Poor man ! " answered Ottorino, not being able to 
 say no, and not wishing to say yes. 
 
 " And Ermelinda, his wife, did you see her ? " 
 
 " Undoubtedly I did. I stayed a fortnight under her 
 roof ; she is an angel of goodness ! " 
 
 Marco rose to his feet, and walked a few steps up and 
 down the room, and then continued — " And Beatrice 
 resembles her ? " 
 
 " She is her mother all over, without a hair's diffe- 
 rence." 
 
 " You ^vrote great things of her to me from Varenna. 
 Do you know that man you sent me — what's his n;ime — 
 Pelagrua ? I have placed hina in my castle of Rosati ; 
 he seems to me an active fellow, and may be of use to 
 me. One thing more I must tell you, that your great 
 praise of Beatrice does not please me over-much ; it 
 looks like disloyalty to the daughter of Franchino Rus- 
 coni, who, they say, is mad about you ; and, in short, I 
 want this connection confirmed soon ; it will make Como 
 decidedly ours." 
 
 Ottorino answered not a word. 
 
 " Another tiling comes into my head ; tell me, is your 
 Count del Balzo as frantic a Guelph as he used to be 
 when he was a boy ? " 
 
 " More than ever, I should say." 
 
 " Then make him come to Milan," said Marco ; " in
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 101 
 
 these times a wealthy gentleman, of an illustrious family, 
 who always must be talking, whether on the right or the 
 wrong side, who delights in -iab])li;ig i^Jaw aad decrees, 
 and has always been Guelph dovvu vo -tiis very marrow, 
 why he is sent to us frgm heayen'.-'yQii.Eausi d(? your 
 best to make him come.''. , ■ , :' ; -,.■,•. :--^ 
 
 " The fact is, that he would have too many scruples, 
 and he leads such a quiet life among his mountains." 
 
 " You may also say of him, if I judge him rightly, 
 that he would be afraid of trusting himself in a city 
 given up to Ghibellinism ; well, conquer that fear by a 
 gi'eater one, and tell him that a band of savages are 
 going off to Limonta, and will do devil's work there ; 
 that the Abbot of San Ambrogio is convinced that he 
 favoured the revolt of his vassals ; in short, scare him 
 from his nest, and make him take flight hither." 
 
 " I should not like," answered Ottorino, hesitating, 
 " to be the cause of his incurring any risk." 
 
 "How timid you have become, cousin," said Marco, 
 fixing his eyes on his face ; " how tender you are of the 
 comfort of your friend ! To set matters right, I will tell 
 you, that if he comes here all will go well with him, if 
 not, I can't say as much ; it is quite true that the Abbot 
 is more out of sorts with him than with the rest of them, 
 the soldiers who are going there are told that in the 
 castle are money and goods ; so that he had better be 
 wise, and choose the course that is for his oyto. in- 
 terests." 
 
 Here he was silent, as if he had nothing more to say, 
 and did not wish anything more to be said to him ; so 
 that Ottorino, with a respectful bow, took his leave and 
 departed. 
 
 As he went away through the hall, where he had left 
 his squire, a sudden calm took place in an uproar which 
 had been going on. the attendants and soldiers saluted 
 respectfully the cousin of their Lord, and Lupo followed 
 him out. 
 
 " What was all that noise ? " Ottorino asked him, 
 when they were on the staircase. 
 
 " Oh, nothing," answered Lupo, " it was only Belle-
 
 102 MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 buono, a soldier of your cousin Lodrisio, who, not know- 
 ing that I came from Limonta, began, while he was 
 prating, f^nd drinking' ,in .their usual way, to say nasty 
 things of iiiy countrymen." 
 
 ".And. what did t)iat T,;nlicked cub say ? " 
 
 '■Uè said they were heretics and cowards — in short, 
 any amount of abuse ; and that he was commissioned to 
 do their business for them, and he meant to make one 
 over as a prey to each of the sixty lancers who would be 
 with him, keeping back ten for his own amusement." 
 
 "The foul-mouthed fellow!" said Ottorino; "he is 
 like the sheriff's bell, which only rings when there's 
 anything disgraceful going on ; and you swallowed it 
 all ? " 
 
 " I answered him that the trade of executioner suited 
 him exactly, that his face and manners were just made 
 for it, but as for laying his hand on one of my moun- 
 taineers, he would burn his fingers ; then one word 
 brings on another, we got hot, so that at last I hit him 
 a blow which gave him a black eye, and made him make 
 as much noise as if I had knocked him down." 
 
 " You are too hasty with your hands, my boy." 
 
 "It is true, I own I was wrong ; but who could have 
 restrained themselves ? it was enough to provoke a 
 m.aimed man to strike him, and I should have lost all 
 respect for myself, and I am sure they would at home, 
 if I had not given him a small taste of my feelings." 
 
 " Well, well, I agree with you ; but do you want to do 
 anything more to him ? " 
 
 "And so," concluded Lupo, "if we meet at Limonta 
 — if an ill- wind takes him there — I will give him the 
 remainder." 
 
 Before long they did meet there, and Lupo kept his 
 word. In due time we will accompany him there our- 
 selves ; now we must go there alone, to return to the 
 Conte del Balzo. 
 
 About this time a messenger from Milan came to see 
 him, with whom he had a long secret interview ; then 
 he told his wife in a summary manner that they must 
 return at once to the city, and the whole family soon
 
 MAECO VISCONTI. 103 
 
 began to busy tliemselves with the preparations for 
 departure. Ermelinda was stupefied at tliis unexpected 
 resolve, but tried in vain to find out the reason of it. 
 
 A discussion then arose as to what route they should 
 take. She proposed to follow the shore of the lake as 
 far as Lecco, and thence go on to Milan, for there was a 
 soi"t of regular road ; a kind of natural hollow way, very 
 muddy, and which in many parts was a mere soft ditch, 
 into which a man would sink to his horse's belly, like 
 most roads were in those times — yet with all that, the 
 best there was to be found. But the Count, after the 
 fright he had experienced at that unlucky rock of Mor- 
 cate, was in mortal terror of lakes and boats, like that 
 felt by a young toper of wine and wine-bottles the day 
 after a debauch, and would not hear a word of it, so it 
 was settled that they were to go by the small mountain 
 paths by the Valessina to Canzo, Inverigo, and so on to 
 Milan. 
 
 This route also had its difficulties, not to speak of the 
 risk the horses ran of injury up and down the uneven 
 and ruinous bridle roads, and what was still worse, the 
 chance of being robbed by the little country proprietors, 
 for in those days every little squire who had half-a-dozen 
 cut-throats in his pay, made war on his own account, 
 and failing other methods, took to the highways, like 
 Rinier da Corneto and Rinier Pazzo mentioned in Dante. 
 Wretched times ! when people had not yet got to under- 
 stand that in some cases mischief will arise from very 
 slight causes ; just as a draught of air, from a crevice that 
 you can hardly draw a thread through, will give you rheu- 
 matism, a cold in the head, or inflammation of the lungs, 
 and perhaps send you into the other world ; but if you 
 face it in the open plain it gives back your health and 
 strength. 
 
 The Count and his family set off at an early hour, 
 with a train of about twenty persons. As they pro- 
 ceeded up and down the winding mountain tracts, at 
 one time they threaded their way along the unequal 
 curves of a valley, at another they crossed the bed of a 
 dried-np torrent strewed with white pebbles, while at
 
 104 MARCO TISCOKTI. 
 
 anotlier tliey disappeared in green groves of olive, bay, 
 and myrtle trees. Not nnfrequently the view of the 
 lake was hidden frora their sight by some intervening 
 obstacle ; but, again, on attaining some higher summit 
 than the rest, and turning their backs on the mountain, 
 or emerging from some plantation, it suddenly reap- 
 peared, sometimes clear and open, and sometimes like a 
 picture in a setting of green foliage ; and with ever 
 varying peeps of bays, promontories, and boats leaving 
 long streaks on the glassy surface, which also reflected 
 the images of the cottages and pretty towns on its 
 shores. 
 
 Beatrice, who felt more than she had ever done before, 
 leaving for the first time in her life so many loved ob- 
 jects, turned her thoughts, with a joy mingled with 
 dread, towards that future which she was approaching, 
 and ever and anon cast back her eyes towards the old 
 tower of her father's castle, as if to wish it farewell, 
 having a strange presentiment that she should never see 
 it again. 
 
 When our travellers arrived at the Bridge of Malpen- 
 sata, over the Lambro, they met two Vassena fishermen, 
 who on their return from Monza with the money pro- 
 duced by theii' week's fishing, had been robbed in that 
 neighbourhood. One of them, after relating his mis- 
 fortune, told the Count he had had a letter for him in 
 his doublet, which the robbers had carried off with the 
 clothes. 
 
 " From whom was it ? " asked the Count. 
 
 " I don't know," replied the fisherman ; " but your 
 falconer's son gave it me in the Monza market-place." 
 
 " What ! Was Lupo at Monza ? " 
 
 " Yes ; along with that knight, that handsome young 
 man, who stayed so long at your castle." 
 
 Beatrice shuddered all over, but made no display of 
 her distress ; but when the cavalcade resumed its jour- 
 ney, she said to her mother, pointing to the two fisher- 
 men — 
 
 " Poor people ! they have no bread for their children. 
 Shall I give them sometliing ? "
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 105 
 
 " Do so, in God's name ; it will be a real act of cliarity." 
 
 The young girl then took a piece of gold from her 
 purse, and gave it to the one vpho had spoken to them. 
 
 " Divide it between you," she said, " and pray God for 
 us." 
 
 The last time we spoke of Ermelinda and Beatrice, 
 the mother was upbraiding her daughter for having 
 gone out hunting against her wish, and the headstrong 
 girl had answered with defiance. But she could not 
 hold out long against Ermelinda's remonstrances, that 
 were made more in sorrow than anger, and the second 
 day after Ottorino's departure she burst into tears, and 
 told her how she had been induced to disobey her mother 
 contrary to her intention, she could scarcely say how it 
 had happened ; and at last she showed her the letter she 
 had found between the pages of the Dante. 
 
 Ermelinda read it. In it Ottorino confessed that he 
 had made some sort of promise of marriage to the 
 daughter of Franchino Rusconi, but that he did not 
 think he had gone so far as not to be able to withdraw 
 honourably from the engagement. Henceforth, however, 
 he was resolved to have no one but Beatrice, and he 
 hoped she would excuse the liberty he had taken of 
 writing to her before consulting her parents, assuring 
 her that he would do so as soon as he knew that his suit 
 was favoured by herself. 
 
 Ermelinda promised her daughter most affectionately 
 that she would do all in her power to please her ; but 
 warned her against being too confident, as it was pos- 
 sible that it would not be quite so easy as the young 
 man thought to withdraw from the business, which had 
 been concocted by Marco, who was of a haughty nature 
 and unused to contradiction, and who, besides, had other 
 grudges against their family. In short, she advised her 
 to let her manage the affair, which the girl agreed to do, 
 and promised implicit obedience. 
 
 Thus the mother's affection for her daughter was 
 entirely restored, and now they were conversing on the 
 journey as famiharly as usual. 
 
 But the Count, whose curiosity had been excited by
 
 106 MAUCO VISCONTI. 
 
 the fishermen, began to wonder what conld be the con- 
 tents of the letter in question. 
 
 "Yon may depend," he said, "there has been some 
 disturbance at Milan, and Ottorino wanted to advise me 
 not to set foot there at present. But who knows ? " 
 
 So saying, he ordered the cavalcade to leave the direct 
 road, and turned off to Monza, hoping to find Ottorino 
 there, and to have some talk with him before coming to 
 any definite conclusion.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 107 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THEY arrived at the Piazza di S. Giovanni di Monza 
 about vesper-tide, and found a large crowd as- 
 sembled round a priest, who was preaching vigorously 
 from a bench. The people, on seeing the approach of 
 the cavalcade, left the preacher and swarmed round the 
 new comers to see who they were, whence they came, 
 and whither they were going, so that our travellers soon 
 found themselves the centre of a crowd of curious ques- 
 tioners. Ermelinda, who saw the church was open, 
 and wished to escape from the turmoil, said to her 
 husband : 
 
 " We ladies will wait inside the church while you are 
 looking for Ottorino ; but let us start again as soon as 
 we can, so as to reach Milan, if possible, before night- 
 fall." 
 
 "Do you mean to go into a church in time of inter- 
 dict ? " replied the Count; but this was said sotto voce, 
 as not knowing what opinions the rabble around them 
 might have on that point, he did not care to run the risk 
 of being insulted. 
 
 His wife, however, who made light of such scruples, 
 took her daughter's arm, and beckoning to Lauretta, her 
 mother Mariana, and the falconer to come with them, 
 they all passed through the crowd into the Church of 
 San Giovanni. 
 
 They found the high altar decorated as usual ; the 
 lamps and candles were lit, and the canons were singing 
 in the choir as in ordinary times ; for in Monza, as at 
 Milan, the clergy were all for anti-pope Nicholas V., and 
 as they considered John XXII. to have been legally de- 
 posed, they did not care about his interdict. 
 
 Ermelinda hesitated for a moment about going in,
 
 108 MARCO TISCONTI. 
 
 fearing to incur excommunication for attending a service 
 conducted by schismatic priests during the interdict. 
 
 " However," she said to herself, " any how I am only 
 come here for shelter, as I would to a house or under a 
 portico." 
 
 So without bowing to the altar or crossing herself, 
 she sat down on a bench, with her daughter by her side. 
 
 At this, Lauretta's mother, being deeply imbued with 
 the principles of another of her sons called Bernardo, 
 who had picked up a few fine phrases from a schismatic 
 monk of San Ambrogio, was filled with indignation ; she 
 gave her daughter's gown a tug, who, seeing her betters 
 sitting down, wanted to do the same, and made her kneel 
 down by her side. She then cast a withering glance at 
 her husband, who w^as standing up with his hands be- 
 hind his back, and amusing himself with contemplating 
 the sibyls and prophets depicted on the cornice of the 
 church, and, at last, unable longer to contain herself, she 
 began muttering between her teeth : 
 
 " A nice way to go on in church ! Just as if you were 
 in a stable, more shame to you ! " 
 
 "Be quiet, or the mistress will hear you," whispered 
 Lauretta. 
 
 " I won't be quiet, so you had better cross yourself 
 and say a prayer or two ; and there's your father stand- 
 ing and staring like an owl at the ceiling ! " 
 
 " Come, do have done with it," said the daughter ; 
 " say another prayer or two, if you like, but do not be 
 long about it." 
 
 " I won't have done with it ; it's a shame to see 
 Christians stand about in church like that. If you had 
 only heard what your brother said yesterday ! 1 say if 
 you had only heard it ; but people don't want to listen." 
 
 Her daughter, seeing that if she said anything more 
 she would only irritate her mother, resolved to be quiet 
 and let her cool down, which soon took place, as the old 
 lady kept up a little low muttering for a short time and 
 then was silent altogether. 
 
 Meantime Beatrice was all in a flutter ; but whether 
 through hope or fear of seeing herself so soon in com-
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 109 
 
 pany witli Ottorino, it is impossible to say. Every time 
 she heard the church-door open and shut behind her she 
 thought it must be he, and felt her face grow crimson, 
 and trembled all over. Hearing a noise as if of approach- 
 ing footsteps, she fancied she could distinguish between 
 her father's step and the well-known one of somebody 
 else ; while her breathing became laboured, and her 
 heai-t felt as if it would have leapt out of her body, 
 ^leantime the persons she had heard coming had arrived, 
 and brushed close by her as they passed on. It was not 
 he — then she recovered her breath, and raised her head 
 again, only, however, to renew her palpitations and 
 tremblings every time she heard the door slam and saw 
 fi'esh persons pass by her. 
 
 Just then the monotonous alternate chant of the 
 priests in the choir was drowned by a tremendous clatter 
 on the square outside. The people in the church turned 
 round to listen, and some few got up and went out. The 
 canons were silent for a moment, till one of them came 
 out and looked down the church, when, seeing all seemed 
 quiet, he went back to the choir and the chanting re- 
 commenced. Suddenly the church doors were thrown 
 open, and a huge wave of people, armed with sticks and 
 stones, poured into the edifice with a tremendous roar, 
 like a river that had burst its banks. 
 
 At their head was the priest who had been preaching 
 in the square ; an emaciated old man, with long hair 
 flying in the wind, holding a crucifix in his left hand 
 and a sword in his right, who called out with a voice of 
 thunder, that was heard far above the roar of the crowd : 
 " Away schismatics ! away children of Belial — priests of 
 Moloch ! " And the surging crowd took up the cry, 
 shouting out : " Away schismatics ! away heretics ! out 
 with you ! " and rushed about breaking benches, throw- 
 ing stones at the elaborate stained glass in the windows, 
 tearing off the altar-cloths, and upsetting chandeliers 
 and crucifixes, and everything else they could find. The 
 high altar and its contents soon became an un distinguish- 
 able mass of ruin and devastation ; whilst some of the 
 madmen rushed into the choir, dragged the canons from
 
 110 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 tlie stalls, and drove them out witli showers of kicks 
 and cuffs. Some might be seen rolling down the altar- 
 steps, others dragged along by the hair, whilst surplices, 
 chasubles, birettas, and breviaries were flying about in 
 all directions. 
 
 The person who had set the storm in motion, seeing 
 his object was accomplished, got on a table, and began 
 preaching afresh, praising the mob for their exploits, but 
 exhorting them now to cease their work of destruction. 
 However, his preaching was no good, for no one would 
 listen to him, and the people kept running about the 
 church as if it were a town taken by assault ; and now the 
 bolder spirits got into the sacristy, where they smashed 
 in the wardrobe-doors, and dragging out the church 
 vestments and plate, they divided it amongst the clamor- 
 ous ci'owd like common plunder. 
 
 Their ill-advised leader now rushed in — "My brethren," 
 he cried, "ye have just accomplished a blessed work, 
 why will ye mar it by sacrilege ? put down those things 
 at once." 
 
 " They are excommunicated as well," replied a wag, 
 " we must drive them out of church : " whereat the mob 
 began to cheer. 
 
 Here the preacher, seeing a sturdy young man fighting 
 for the possession of a chalice, hidden under his cloak, 
 confronted him, and cried out, " In the name of the 
 spiritual and temporal power, set forth by this crucifix 
 and this sword, I command thee, most wicked man, 
 to turn back." 
 
 But the man, giving him a blow in the face that made 
 him spin round like a teetotum, rejoined, " And I, in the 
 name of this authority here present, command thee to 
 let me go on." 
 
 " So you have now got a taste of your two potentates, 
 eh? " exclainied another rufiian ; on which the priest who 
 had been struck became white with rage, and invoked 
 the curse of Heaven in every form on those wretches, 
 who let him go on for a while, but then overwhelmed 
 him with blows, cuffs, and kicks, and at last drove him 
 out of the church in a very sorry plight.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. Ill 
 
 Meanwhile, anotlier still more strange scene was 
 enacting outside. Bernardo, the falconer's son, who had 
 come from Limonta with the cavalcade, on first entering 
 the gates of Monza, had stumbled upon an old acquain- 
 tance with whom he stayed behind for some time, so that 
 when he got to the square of San Giovanni, he came in 
 for the disturbance we have been describing. Seeing 
 some priests running out of the church all torn and 
 bleeding, he inquired the reason, and learnt that they 
 were the canons of the church who had been driven out 
 in that way for their obstinacy in carrying on the ser- 
 vices in spite of the interdict. "What!" said he to 
 himself, " can a place that has always been for Nicholas 
 V. and the good cause, have been guilty so suddenly of 
 such excesses ? " He could not believe it was more than 
 a momentary outbreak, which he had good hopes of 
 being able to appease. Blinded with indignation and 
 self-confidence, he resolved on a course of action here 
 that he would never have dreamt of at Limonta, where, 
 as he said, all were a set of hardened schism.atics, and 
 where consequently there was no good to be done. So, 
 dressed as he was in a cuirass over his doublet and a 
 steel helmet overshadowing his pale, foolish countenance, 
 he jumped on a bench, javelin in hand, and, looking like 
 a scarecrow, began to harangue the mob. 
 
 This well-meaning fellow was just setting to work, 
 when he saw, coming out of San Giovanni, the priest 
 who had stirred up all this tempest and then was not 
 man enough to calm it. Our friend Bernardo, however, 
 meeting him in this wretched plight, and pursued by a 
 yelling mob, thought he must be one of the canons who 
 had been so maltreated ; so leaving his bench, he went 
 towai'ds the wretched man and kissed his garments. 
 One of the crowd, who saw the mistake, cried out that 
 this priest was not a canon of Monza; but the very man 
 who had brought all this ill-treatment on them. Ber- 
 nardo drew back in dismay, exclaiming, " Then I have 
 been kissing a venomous serpent whom I mistook for a 
 dove." 
 
 "You are, yourself, a snake, a dragon, a basilisk,"
 
 112 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 cried the priest in a louder key, " an abettor of schism 
 and heresy." 
 
 So these two began to abuse each other to the utmost 
 pitch of their voices, neither being willing to yield, while 
 the populace laughed and cheered them on. At last, one 
 of the rogues gave the falconer's son a tremendous push 
 from behind, and threw him to the ground with his 
 legs in the air, amidst the yeUs and cheers of the spec- 
 tators. 
 
 But now a voice was heard, which stopped the clamour 
 at once. " Make way there ; let us pass." It was Otto- 
 rino, who had arrived on horseback with about thirty 
 soldiers, in company with Count del Balzo. 
 
 At the approach of this cavalcade the rabble dispersed, 
 scattering in all directions. Lupo, who was by the side 
 of his master, soon recognized his brother — who was 
 shaking the dirt ofi his garments, and picking up his 
 helmet — and said to him, " Why don't you hold your 
 tong-ue and keep quiet ? " 
 
 " If you had come up a minute before," answered 
 Bernardo, " you might have lent me your arm." 
 
 " You wanted me rather to lend you some brains," 
 replied Lupo. 
 
 Meanwhile, Ottorino, wdth his followers, had entered 
 the church, and galloping up and dowTi the aisles, and in 
 and out of the chapels — not omitting the sacristy and 
 the choh' — by dint of frequent blows with the flat of their 
 swords and the butt end of their lances, drove out the 
 plundering mob who had taken possession of the place. 
 
 Our ladies, whom we left in the church when the first 
 wave of people entered, had taken refuge in a chapel, 
 and the active falconer had fastened the bolts to ensure 
 their safety while the church was being sacked. Every 
 now and then one of the mob would come swaggering 
 up, and try to make them open the chapel gates, but 
 Ambrose drew his rapier and applied it freely to the 
 hands of all whom he could not persuade to go away 
 quietly. At the same time he told his daughter to re- 
 move from the altar the candlesticks and crucifix, and 
 everything that could tempt the mob to break into their
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 113 
 
 placo of refuge, and Lauretta promptly obeyed, in spite 
 of her mother's protestations, who would rather have 
 suffered martyrdom than taken part in such profana- 
 tion. 
 
 Here they remained shut up for a while, until, by 
 good luck, some of the Count's suite, who had got into 
 the church, caught sight of the ladies, and stationed 
 themselves in front of the chapel gates, with their swords 
 drawn, at the sight of which the plunderers did not care 
 to attack them further. 
 
 We are sorry to have detained our readers so long 
 over such foolish and profane proceedings ; but we hope 
 we shall not be thought to. have dealt too lightly with 
 such matters. In our description of one cf the excesses 
 of those sad times, which was, however, by no means of 
 the worst type, we have tried to place it in as graphic 
 a form as possible, and to leave with them the same 
 impression as we have derived from the writings of 
 the time, not adding any reflection of our own, but 
 preferring that each reader should draw his own con- 
 clusions. 
 
 The Count and his family and suite now pursued their 
 journey to Milan ; and Ottorino, who had nothing more 
 to do at Monza, proposed, as was natural, to accompany 
 them. 
 
 " I assure you that I have not written you any other 
 letter than the one you received at Limonta by my ser- 
 vant," said the young knight to the father of Beatrice, as 
 he rode beside him. 
 
 "And yet," replied the Count, "those fishermen of 
 Vassena declared, as I told you, that they had a letter 
 of yours given them by Lupo in the market-place of 
 Monza." 
 
 Lupo was summoned, and owned that he had sent the 
 letter himself to warn his father to secure his own 
 safety ; he had got it written by a priest of his ac- 
 quaintance at Monza, and had given it to these very two 
 fishermen. 
 
 "Ah ! now I understand," said the Count; and con- 
 tinued conversing with the young knight in an under 
 
 I
 
 114 MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 tone. "Tell me," he asked him, "what was it you 
 wrote to me ? that the Abbot of San Ambrogio " 
 
 " He is quite beside himself ; " said Ottorino, " and I 
 have just heard at Monza that to-night, at Lecco, the 
 sixty lances are to embark whom he is sending to exter- 
 minate the poor Limontese." 
 
 " Mercy on us ! but what have I to do with it ? It 
 was not my fault that those pig-headed hill-folk would 
 not submit to their lord ! " 
 
 " What would you have me say ? The Cardinal seems 
 to be against you." 
 
 " Oh, what bad luck ! I have done nothing, I tell you 
 again. They say I protected them. I tell you that I 
 have never betrayed one word of your letter, and have 
 never repeated what your messenger said." 
 
 " Do you mean that they know nothing at Limonta of 
 their peril ? " 
 
 "Nothing whatever." 
 
 "If so, we must at once send off to inform them," 
 said the youth. 
 
 " For pity's sake, forbear ! If they catch a messenger 
 on his way down there we shall never get out of the 
 Cardinal's head that I've sent him, and as he already 
 suspects me " 
 
 But Ottorino, without listening to him, said to his 
 squire : 
 
 " It is only proper that you should go off at once to 
 Xiimonta to warn your fellow-country people of the 
 storm about to break on them ; so turn back at once, 
 find a fresh horse at Monza, and go off." 
 
 "No, no," interrupted the Count, "you will ruin me. 
 The Abbot knows that Lupo is the son of my servant." 
 
 " He is my squire," answered Ottorino; "so I take it 
 on myself." 
 
 " But think for a moment," continued the Count. 
 " By this time they know all." 
 
 " Did you not tell me that they guess nothing ? " 
 
 " That is to say — I cannot be sure — but most likely 
 they have been warned from Lecco. Oh, they m.ust 
 have been ; I'll warrant they have been."
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 115 
 
 " At all events, it is better to make sure of it," replied 
 the young knight. 
 
 " It is so dark for poor Lupo, araong all those preci- 
 pices," the Count went on urging. 
 
 " Do not let that enter your head," said the falconer's 
 son. " I will leave the horse at the first cottage when 
 night overtakes me, and will go on on foot. It will 
 only be a dozen miles for me to trot, and as it concerns 
 the lives of these poor people, that's nothing," and so 
 saying, he turned his horse round, and galloped off. 
 
 Then Ottorino, approaching Ermelinda, told. her what 
 had just happened, and explained to her the cause of 
 Lupo's sudden departure. He afterwards tried to turn 
 the conversation to her daughter, so as to oblige her to 
 take part in it ; but Beatrice would neither open her 
 lips nor turn her eyes towards him. Her mother also, 
 after she had listened to everything concerning Limonta, 
 appeared to wish to end the conversation, and answered 
 as shortly and coldly as common civility would permit. 
 
 The young man, discouraged by this behaviour, fell a 
 prey to many confused suspicions. 
 
 " Could Beatrice not have received my letter ? can 
 she disdain my love ? does not the connection please 
 her mother ? can they have arranged another match for 
 her ? " 
 
 In order to settle these doubts as soon as possible, he 
 drew the Count away from the rest of the party, and 
 began with much courtesy to speak to him of his daughter, 
 and gradually led up to the point of a direct offer of mar- 
 riage. The father of the young lady began a speech 
 full of eulogiums on the family and person of the youth ; 
 but at the end began to stammer out that he would not 
 on any account give offence to Marco, who, as he had 
 been told by his wife, was arranging another marriage. 
 
 Ottorino answered, that he was confident of the ap- 
 proval of Marco, who, in the affair only wished his good, 
 but that in any case he was his own master, and for all 
 the respect he owed his. leader, he was neither his vassal 
 nor his son, and could marry whomsoever he wished, 
 whether Marco was willing or not.
 
 116 MAECO VISCONTI. 
 
 On hearing this the Count made a grimace, which 
 meant, " My dear friend, — you may do as you like, but I 
 do not wish, for my part, to break my head by ramming 
 it against a stone wall." With his lips, however, he 
 only replied in this way, " Well, we will speak of it 
 again presently, when more at leisure." 
 
 But the youth, who perceived the untoward impression 
 left by liis last words, tried quickly to rectify it, and 
 declared that when Marco was made aware that she, for 
 whom Ottorino was ready to run all risks, was the 
 daughter of Count Oldrado del Balzo, he would not 
 dream of any opposition. He also proceeded to relate 
 how Visconti had asked for him, and manifested a great 
 desire to see him at Milan, where matters appeared to 
 be turning in favour of Pope John XXII. In the end 
 he left the Count with a sort of half -notion that Marco 
 attributed a great part of the credit which he had ob- 
 tained to the influence of the Count. 
 
 I need not say that the effect of these words was to 
 make our friend still more vain and conceited, if pos- 
 sible. The worthy man, like most boasters, was not in 
 the habit of hearing himself praised by others, and his 
 face was now covered with complacent smiles, beaming, 
 so to speak, with that sort of self-satisfied expression 
 which most people, lest they should appear inordinately 
 vain, try hard to smother and suppress. But it was no 
 such thing with the Count ; on the contrary, his gratified 
 vanity seemed to manifest itself in every feature, as if 
 purposely to mar and destroy the effect of this moment 
 of legitimate triumph. 
 
 " I must say," replied the Count, at last, " that Marco 
 does me more honour than I deserve ; but, however, as 
 I told you before, we were friends from boyhood. At 
 any rate, if I am of any value I am here entirely for his 
 sake. And as to what relates to Beatrice, I say again, 
 that if there are no objections on his part, I will promise 
 her to you at once, and think myself lucky to marry 
 her in so honourable a manner, and so much after my 
 own heart, for you know how fond I am of you, and 
 how anxious I am for your welfare ; and as for Ermo-
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 117 
 
 Unda, she is just the same, and will, I know, rejoice 
 greatly." 
 
 The party arrived in time at Milan : the Count turned 
 off to dismount at the Brera del Guercio, where his 
 house was, and the young knight went straight to Marco 
 Visconti.
 
 118 MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 AS soon as Marco saw Ottorino enter the room, where 
 he sat alone reading some papers, he rose, and 
 hastening cordially to meet him : " Already returned ! " 
 he said, " and how go affairs at Monza ? " 
 
 " There is universal discontent," answered the youth; 
 " but no one dares to stir a finger for fear of the Duke 
 of Tech." 
 
 " Whom then did you communicate with ? " said 
 Marco. 
 
 " With the heads of the Guelph party, whom you 
 mentioned to me, such as Guzino Gavazza, Meneghino 
 Zeva, and Berusio Rabbia ; the latter, as soon as he can, 
 without being suspected, will come to Milan to confer 
 with you." 
 
 " And what news can you give me of the populace ? " 
 
 " The worst possible : I must tell you of your priest, 
 Martino, whom you sent there as a missionary ; it was 
 only by a miracle that he escaped alive from the claws 
 of those worthies, whom he had began to instruct." 
 
 " Are they so mad for the Antipope, Niccolo ? " 
 
 " It is not that they care more for Niccolo than Gio- 
 vanni ; they are a lawless set, who only care to fish in 
 troubled waters ; " and here Ottorino related all that had 
 haj)pened in the church of Monza. 
 
 " Brates ! " said Marco, smiling at the account of their 
 valiant deeds. " Brutes ! but it is always the same 
 everywhere; well, enough of that. My cue is first to 
 thoroughly entangle matters, and then we can set them 
 right again after a time. And now for poor Martino " 
 
 " I give you my word that he has lost all wish to 
 preach, and that he will bear the marks of his adventures 
 for a good time."
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 119 
 
 " However," replied Marco, " to say the tnitli, he has 
 played his part rather stupidly ; but one need not live to 
 be a hundred to know that when the mob rises they are 
 like wild beasts, and that they will lay their hands on 
 what they can get. Let them alone. After all, there is 
 no very great harm that there should fall into the pockets 
 of poor folk, in the shape of gold pieces, some of that 
 gold and silver which is always being heaped up in the 
 sacristies in the shape of candelabras and crucifixes. 
 Why cannot we be good Christians, and, at the same 
 time, have lamps made of glass or of earthenware, and 
 crosses and candlesticks of wood ? And after all, where 
 has all this gold and silver come from, I ask you ? why, 
 out of the pockets of the poor. The only thing that 
 really matters is, whether they are not over-much at- 
 tached to the schismatic side ? " 
 
 " As to that, you may be at ease, for in my opinion 
 they know nothing about either Pope or Antipope ; and 
 to prove it, after having ill-treated poor Martino, who 
 was preaching for Giovanni against Niccolo, they began 
 to do the same to a second orator, who raised his voice 
 for Niccolo against Giovanni. He was a mountaineer, 
 who had come from Limonta with Count del Balzo, and 
 if I had not come up in time, there would soon have 
 been an end of him." 
 
 " And has Count del Balzo arrived ? " 
 
 " We arrived together, just now." 
 
 " You see that the receipt I suggested to you has had 
 the right effect : now that he is here, it will be my fault 
 if we don't turn him to account ; we must begin — let me 
 see — he has all his family with him, has he not ? " 
 
 "Yes, all the family." 
 
 " To-morrow I am going to give my friends a banquet, 
 can you not arrange to bring him with you ? Ermelinda 
 — I certainly cannot hope to see her ; but — this Beatrice, 
 whom you rave about, you may be able to persuade her 
 to keep her father company." 
 
 Ottorino, who could have asked for nothing better, 
 since it was clear that if his patron was so anxious to 
 see his lady-love, he would pardon him without hesitation
 
 120 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 for throwing over Rusconi's claiTgliter, promised at once 
 to obey him implicitly. 
 
 The next morning, early, he went to the Count to tell 
 him that Marco expected to see him and Beatrice at 
 dinner, and that he must let her go, for it was a great 
 feather in his cap, and a favour that would greatly in- 
 crease his reputation in Milan, and in a word, that there 
 was no way out of it. 
 
 Ermelinda, to whom the Count announced this matter 
 as a settled affair, saw no way of opposing it. The girl 
 might fairly be called Ottorino's betrothed, as he had 
 formally demanded her hand ; and it was only natural 
 and proper that the young man should wish to introduce 
 her to his patron to gain his consent to the alliance, as 
 it was very important that the former engagement, in 
 which Marco had a hand, should not be broken off with- 
 out his full consent. All the same she could not help 
 feeling a secret dread, derived from memories of the 
 past and forebodings for the future, at the idea of her 
 daughter being presented to Marco ; and when she 
 finally gave Beatrice leave to go, who was also a good 
 deal alarmed from all she had heard of that personage, 
 she felt that she was sealing irrevocably her daughter's 
 future destiny ; and when she saw her start her eyes 
 filled with tears. 
 
 Marco Visconti was standing in one of the reception 
 rooms of his palace, in the midst of a circle of the flower 
 of Milanese knighthood, waiting the announcement of 
 dinner. Ever magnificent in his entertainments to his 
 friends and fellow nobles, on this occasion he had pushed 
 things almost to prodigality in order to attract partizans, 
 and to flaunt his wealth before the eyes of the crowd, so 
 easily dazzled by all that glistens. 
 
 We learn from the chronicles that, in the sumptuous- 
 ness of his banquets, the magnificence of his dress, and 
 his horses, and in the number of his pages, attendants, 
 and squires, he far surpassed even his nephew Azzone, 
 the lately created Lord of Milan. 
 
 One of the chief personages in his following was 
 Lodrisio Visconti, brother of the usurjung abbot of
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 121 
 
 Saint Ambrogio, Marco's most trusted counsellor, and 
 his instigator in the many secret transactions he had 
 been mixed up in. He was a fine-looking, powerful man 
 of about forty, but a turbulent, restless spirit, who, al- 
 though he had been hithei'to well spoken of, yet was after- 
 wards destined to acquire a very disreputable celebrity. 
 He had long hated Ottorino, from jealousy of seeing 
 him beloved by Marco, over whose spirit he wished to 
 rule alone, and also on account of certain lawsuits he 
 had had with the young knight, relations though they 
 were, relating to the succession to the fief of Castelletto, 
 on the Ticino, which had at last been adjudged to Otto- 
 rino. Marco had sought to reconcile them : and lately 
 they had seemed to be on better terms. Lodrisio, how- 
 ever, had not laid aside his old ill-feehng, and was always 
 on the watch to take advantage of an opportunity to 
 ruin his rival. 
 
 A page now announced the arrival of Count del Balzo ; 
 all eyes turned to the door, and he was seen to enter 
 holding his daughter's hand. Marco hastened to meet 
 them quite agitated ; for at the first sight of Beatrice, 
 who came forward with her eyes cast down, and deeply 
 blushing, he imagined that he saw her mother, Erme- 
 linda, herself again, and his heart for a moment stood 
 still. 
 
 He gave no sign, however, of his feelings ; received 
 the father with courtesy, but with a dignified mien, 
 which, though cordial, could not fail of inspiring respect, 
 and to the daughter he paid every honour that was due 
 to a noble damsel, entertaining her with gay talk till the 
 pages entered to announce that the tables were ready. 
 They then passed into an adjoining hall, where Marco 
 placed Beatrice on his right, and the Count del Balzo 
 on his other side, and all the party took their places 
 round the table. 
 
 We do not intend to dwell upon the arrangements of 
 this banquet, which, although not quite so sumptuous as 
 those that are given at great public festivities, yet was 
 one that, in our times, would not have disgi'aced the 
 most luxurious Courts in Europe.
 
 122 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 Suffice it to saj that there was a grand display of the 
 finest tablecloths and napkins, set off with fringe and 
 embroidery ; wine glasses, with the Visconti serpent 
 engraved upon them ; all sorts of costly vessels ; glitter- 
 ing gold and silver plate ; provisions of every kind of 
 the most exquisite flavours and colours ; gilded fish ; 
 peacocks, carefully decked in their own plumage, and 
 so skilfully set up as almost to appear alive, which, in 
 an instant, were stripped by the carvers and smoked on 
 the board ; all sorts of game and venison ; and a young 
 bear, with its fur skilfully imitated in silver, with claws 
 and teeth of gold, and a light in its mouth. After every 
 course, scented water was handed to the guests, and the 
 most exquisite wines were poured from large cups, chased 
 in gold and silver, into elegant wine glasses engraved 
 with flowers, animals, and lace patterns. 
 
 Towards the end of dinner, there entered the hall twelve 
 valets in doublets and parti-coloured red and white 
 hosen, bearing the gifts of the festival. Some held 
 braces of greyhounds, setters, or bloodhounds, with 
 collars of quilted velvet, with couples and leashes of 
 stamped leather. Another bore on his fist splendid 
 hawks of different kinds, trained for the chase, with red 
 jesses, white straps and caps embroidered with pearls, 
 and little bells and silver ornaments on their breasts, 
 engraved with the serpent crest. Another had a golden- 
 hilted sword ; another a steel helmet : while others bore 
 aloft mantles and surcoats of embroidered damask, with 
 silken cords, choice pearl buttons, and golden tassels. 
 
 When these pages approached with the presents, Marco 
 perceived that there was nothing fit to be presented to a 
 young lady of noble birth, so he made a sign to one of 
 his squires, who left the hall for a moment, and then 
 reappeared, bearing a coronet of pearls on a salver. Then 
 the master of the feast stood up, and taking the coronet 
 in both his hands, bent one knee before Beatrice, and 
 then rising, placed the chaplet gently on her head, say- 
 ing, " God save the Queen of the Feast," and all the 
 guests responded with a shout of applause. 
 
 This done, he begged the young lady to condescend,
 
 MARCO YISCONTI. 123 
 
 to use liis own words, to lend a grace to these poor gifts 
 of his, by presenting them with her own hands to the 
 knights and barons who had honoured him with their 
 company. Beatrice then stood up, and all the guests 
 followed her example. Marco himself, acting as her 
 squire, led her round the different tables, and as he re- 
 ceived them from the hands of the pages, handed her 
 the presents, one by one, which she, with a graceful 
 gesture, presented to each in turn, while the recipient 
 welcomed the gift on bended knee, kissing the hem of 
 the fair donor's garment. Thei-e fell to Ottorino 's lot a 
 steel helmet with an enamelled crest, and it was remarked 
 that the hand of the beautiful queen trembled more than 
 usual when she offered it to him ; but it was supposed 
 that the weight of the armour was too much for the 
 delicate wrist of a young lady. 
 
 The last to receive a present was Count del Balzo, for 
 whom Marco had reserved a superb peregrin falcon. He, 
 too, received it on bended knee from the hands of his 
 daughter, and kissed the hem of her garment like the 
 rest ; but on rising, he could not restrain the warmth of , 
 his paternal affection, and throwing his arms round her 
 neck, kissed her forehead, saying, " God bless thee, my 
 daughter ! " at which another loud cheer rang through 
 the hall. 
 
 When quiet was restored, Marco said to the damsel : 
 
 " Most lovely and courteous queen, must I be the only 
 one among all your subjects who has to go without one 
 of your favours ? If it is not too much to ask for, might 
 I hope to receive from your hands a ribbon, or any trifle, 
 as a sign, that^you have accepted me for your vassal ? " 
 
 The maiden became quite confused, and almost 
 frightened ; but her father said to her : 
 
 " Quick, take something off at once — one of those 
 bracelets." 
 
 She obeyed ; and di^ew off her left wrist a silk ai;mlet 
 embroidered with gold, which Marco received from her 
 hands on his knees. 
 
 When the tables had been cleared, the company divided 
 into different groups, and began discussing the news of
 
 124 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 the day. The conversation turning on the Pope and 
 Antipope, Count del Balzo soon monopolized the sub- 
 ject, and took the opportunity to air his Latin and to 
 display all the ecclesiastical lore he had in his head; and 
 those young knights, who could talk of little else than 
 the merits of their swords and horses, were struck dumb 
 by his extraordinary learning. But in the long run 
 people become weary of the act of admiration, so that 
 there is, perhaps, nothing that so soon becomes tiresome, 
 particularly when the admiration has all to be taken on 
 trust. The listeners at last realized that they also had 
 tongues in their heads, and began, one by one, to drop 
 oif from the gronp surrounding the orator, so at last the 
 andience was reduced to three or fonr, and even these, 
 at the first time the Count stopped to take breath, took 
 the opportunity to disappear (politely), and crossed 
 over to another circle, composed of all the deserters from 
 the first. 
 
 Here the talk was of a tournament which was announced 
 that day to celebrate the election of Azzone Visconti as 
 Imperial Viceroy. After many inquiries had been made 
 and answered, Lodrisio, drawing a sheet of parchment 
 from his breast — 
 
 " Here," he said, "is the proclamation as it has been 
 set forth by the town-crier." 
 
 The gTiests all crowded round him, and he began to 
 read : — 
 
 " ' yes, yes, princes, lords, and gentlemen, — I 
 declare to you the great, worthy, and noble contest of 
 arms, the high festival and joust, which will be held at 
 ]\Iilan, in Lombardy, a month from the date of these 
 presents. To fly from sloth, to exercise our own persons, 
 and to acquire honour in the military calling and the 
 favour of the most lovely and high-born ladies whose 
 servants we are, and, at the same time, to display the 
 pro^yess of the city and the country, by reason of the in- 
 stitution of themagnificent and illustrious Azzone Visconti 
 to the office of Imperial Viceroy, we, the undersigmed noble 
 knights, have undertaken to hold a combat and joust ; 
 whereat we will hold ourselves ready from sunrise to sun-
 
 MARCO YISCONTI. 125 
 
 set to accept the challenge of any knight, whether native 
 or foi-eign, who can show a proper qualification. 
 
 " ' RULES OF THE TOURNAMENT. 
 
 " ' First assault — On horseback in the lists, each knight 
 to have four challenges with his lance, and one for his 
 lady. 
 
 " ' Second assault — Sword attack on horseback singly, 
 in pah's, or all together, according to the good pleasure 
 of the judges. 
 
 " ' The armourers will furnish lances of equal length, 
 and swords at the option of the combatants. If any 
 strike a horse he shall bo put out of the lists. Whoever 
 breaks most lances, and does best, will have the prize of 
 a suit of armour. 
 
 " ' The combatants will be required to toiich one or 
 more of the shields suspended at the upper end of the 
 lists at their option, or the whole number if they choose 
 to do so, and they will find a herald to receive them and 
 to enrol their names. 
 
 " ' The combatants will be also required either to bring 
 themselves, or to send by a squire to the said herald 
 their shields, engraved with their proper coat-of-arms, 
 to be suspended before the commencement of the joust, 
 in the place above-mentioned, and in case they are not 
 hung up by the time appointed, they will not be received 
 without the special consent of the managers and of His 
 Excellency the Imperial Viceroy. 
 
 " ' In witness whereof we have hereto subscribed our 
 names.' " Here the reader stopped. 
 
 "But how about the signatures?" cried several at 
 once. " Let us see them." 
 
 " Well, here they are, then : — 
 
 " ' Sacramoro Liprando, 
 " ' Ottorino Visconti, 
 '"Bronzin Caimo, 
 " ' P inala, 
 
 " ' Bertone Cacatossici, 
 " ' Pietro Meraviglia,
 
 126 marco tisconti. 
 
 "'Un Tanzo, 
 " ' Due Biraghi, 
 " ' Due Bossi, 
 
 "'LOKENZUOLO DA LanDRIANO. 
 
 " ' Given at Milan, in Lonibardy, Anno Domini 1329. 
 Month , day .' 
 
 " How mueli more do you want ? " 
 
 The Count del Balzo, who, during the whole time of 
 the banquet, had been utterly cowed by the innate stateli- 
 ness of the aspect and demeanour of Marco, had done 
 little else than return a few incoherent answers to the 
 questions put to him from time to time by the master of 
 the house. But now that he was no longer near him, 
 and had, so to speak, passed out of the orbit of his influ- 
 ence, he felt inspirited again by the honour done to his 
 daughter, and by the attention with which his first dis- 
 course had been listened to ; so not being able to restrain 
 himself any longer, as soon as he perceived that the 
 reading of the proclamation was finished, he poked his 
 ■ head into the circle of young men who had been listening 
 to it, and said : "So you are talking now of tournaments 
 and jousts, are you ?" in that form of interrogation 
 which does not require an answer, and which is only a 
 pretext for joining in a conversation already begun. 
 " Do you know what the word joust means ? Well, I'll 
 tell you. Joust comes from juxta, the Latin for near, 
 because it is a fight in which the combatants come close 
 together. " 
 
 " And who will be the judges of the lists ? " asked one 
 of the party, who did not seem to care much about this 
 display of learning. 
 
 But the Count, without allowing time for the answer, 
 went chattering on : — 
 
 " You see, too, the custom of jousting is very ancient 
 indeed, it dates from the time of the Trojan War, and 
 came again into fashion at the time of King Arthur and 
 the Bound Table, and this is why we call it ' Trojae Indus,' 
 which means to say, the game of Troy, and also the War 
 of Troy, because the K-omans called war ' Indus,' as if it 
 had been a "■ame."
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 127 
 
 No one spoke, but the orator could not help perceiving 
 from the looks and demeanour of his hearers that they 
 did not take much pleasure in the study of etymology, 
 and that therefore he had better change his subject; so 
 he began to talk learnedly about arms and warfare, a 
 subject to which the conversation seemed naturally 
 tending. He then began furbishing up the most rusty 
 old saws, about the proper mode of conducting oneself in 
 a passage of arms, or in a joust, and laid down the law 
 how the knight ought to stand up in his stirrups, and how 
 he ought to lower and place his lance in rest, and how to 
 manage it, and how to parry a sword-cut or a lance-thrust. 
 
 He then quoted various authors, and mentioned several 
 cases in point, and in a word, tried his best to pass for a 
 valiant jouster in the opinion of mere theorists, and for 
 a learned professor in the eyes of skilled performers, such 
 as the young men before him, who every now and then 
 cast sly glances at one another, while laughing at the 
 Count in their sleeves. 
 
 Such is the fate of those who always assume to know 
 eveiything; they never have discretion or caption enough 
 to keep to the subject best adapted to their auditors. 
 
 Marco had never stirred from Beatrice's side, with 
 whom he conversed with easy cordiality. When, as it 
 grew late, her father came to take a hearty and grateful 
 farewell, he accompanied the damsel to the limits of the 
 hall, where, leaving her in the Count's charge, he praised 
 her to him inordinately, and made him a profusion of 
 compHments, ending with saying, " That for the future 
 he hoped that their frequent meetings would atone for 
 the length of time during which they had been separated." 
 
 The Count left the palace in such high spirits that his 
 feet seemed hardly to touch the ground. As soon as he 
 arrived at home, he told his wife of the high honours 
 that had been paid him and his daughter, and Ermelinda 
 was much satisfied with the account, feeling sure that 
 Ottorino had spoken about his intended marriage with 
 Beatrice to Marco, and that the politeness shown by the 
 latter to the Count and his daughter had been intended 
 as a mark of his approval.
 
 128 MAECO VISCONTI. 
 
 Soon after Ottorino himself arrived, in a higli state of 
 delight. The conversation, turning on the festivities of 
 the day, he saw that the Count and Countess both con- 
 sidered that Marco had, in fact, given his consent, and 
 he did not care to undeceive them. After the welcome 
 he had received he thought himself sure of success, so he 
 determined, the first opportunity he had of being alone 
 with his liege lord, to do what he had been ashamed of 
 doing before so large an assembly. He proceeded there- 
 fore to talk about his future nuptials with Beatrice's 
 parents as if it were a settled affair, and, in fact, it took 
 very few words to arrange everything. 
 
 The Count here made a sign to his wife, and then 
 turning to Beatrice, who during the whole interview had 
 remained silent, and had not even dared to raise her 
 head — 
 
 " Look here," he said, with a half silly, half sly laugh, 
 which he always gave when about to come out with some 
 more than usually clever saying ; " look here, we have 
 all been reckoning vdthout our host ; we have been 
 giving you away without asking your leave, when, 
 perhaps, after all, all this nonsense is the last thing you 
 are thinking of." 
 
 Beatrice on this felt her cheeks glow like a hot coal. 
 She took her mother's hand, but did not answer a syllable. 
 
 Ermelinda made a sign to the Count to stop his 
 jesting ; and then said to Ottorino, with a smile : 
 
 " Though this kind of thing cannot generally be done 
 at second hand, yet I hope you will be content vnth the 
 ' yes ' that her mother now gives you on her behalf." 
 
 The young knight then rose to take leave, on which 
 the girl , raised her head, and without letting go her 
 mother's hand, said to him — 
 
 " You will come to-morrow, won't you ? " 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! Now the cat is let out of the bag," said 
 the Count, splitting with laughter ; " now we see you 
 in your true light ! A minute ago you might have been 
 a Santa Lucia. Oh, you little puss ! " 
 
 Ottorino then went away in a state of great delight, 
 which was thoroughly shared by those he left behind him.
 
 MABCO VISCONTI. 129 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A SILVER lamp, with three branches, was burning- 
 in Marco Visconti's private chamber, and diifused 
 a sweet perfume all over the room. Lodrisio, seated on 
 a faldstool, with one elbow leaning on a small table, and 
 his chin resting on his hand, was conversing with the 
 master of the house, who was listening with a distracted 
 air, and as if immersed in his own thoughts. 
 
 " Of one tiling we may be quite certain," said the 
 astute counsellor, "the Duke' of Monteforte has got hold 
 of the 25,000 florins that Lewis of Bavaria has ordered 
 your nephew, Azzone, to pay him to-day ; and to-morrow 
 he will start for the Tyrol with his German bodyguard, 
 so as to get out of the way. The Emperor is waiting 
 for him in Tuscany, expecting the money, and, my life 
 for it, a pretty fool the dried-up old stick will look when 
 he finds his Count has flown ! But see what a master 
 stroke it is to get rid of those fellows for a bit ! Our 
 schemes would not stand a chance of success unless that 
 burden was off our backs ! " 
 
 " Quite so," said Marco, listlessly. 
 
 " All the same," rejoined the other ; " you were quite 
 right in what you said this morning, that the plot is not 
 yet ripe, and tlaat the priests and friars sent by the Pope 
 must have time allowed them to produce the requisite 
 effect ; and we must wait till the Bavarian is more 
 thoroughly drained of men and money, which process is 
 going on every day. By-the-bye, do you know, cousin, 
 that the 800 Grerman cavalry, who, we heard, had deserted 
 their colours because their pay was not forthcoming, 
 have intrenched themselves in the Castle of Ceruglio, in 
 the Val di Nievole ? Don't they know about it in the 
 Viceregal Palace ? "
 
 130 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 Marco, whose head was tnnied in another direction, 
 heard these last sentences like a man half-awake, whose 
 ear catches the actual sonnd of the words, without his 
 mind perceiving their meaning ; and just like a person 
 in a doze, if shaken by the speaker, manages in a kind of 
 dreamy way to pick up the general meaning of what is 
 said to him from the last words he hears. So Marco, 
 from the word Ceniglio, the last sound of which he had 
 dimly caught, and from the interrogative tone of Lo- 
 drisio's voice, guessed what he was talking about ; and 
 making believe that he had been listening all the time, 
 answered — 
 
 " Oh, to be sure, those troops at Ceruglio — eh ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the other, " have your brothers and the 
 Viceroy heard anything about them ? " 
 
 " They have been told about it by the Bavarian him- 
 self," rephed Marco, "and the Emperor is trying to 
 work upon my nephew, in order to get the investiture 
 fees, with which he hoped to restore those rebellious 
 troops to their allegiance." 
 
 " Oh, how ingenious ! Precious few of them he will 
 get hold of by that means, at any rate," rejoined the 
 other. 
 
 " And do you know," continued Marco, " what Azzone 
 wants to do ? Can you believe it ? To send me to 
 Ceruglio instead of the money ! " 
 
 " What ! " 
 
 " Why, he wants me to go as hostage to the rebels to 
 keep them quiet till he scrapes enough money together 
 to pay them." 
 
 " What a dear boy ! " said Lodrisio, with a grin. 
 
 " Isn't he ? " replied Marco. " And this very morn- 
 ing he has been plaguing me again, saying that I was 
 their only hope in this aifair ; that no one but myself 
 could get him out of the mess, as those Germans knew 
 me, and would trust my word ; and then he talked of my 
 various exploits." 
 
 " Your exploits — eh ? You may tell him he has not 
 yet seen the best of them. However, he is not such a 
 fool as he looks. Any one can see he wants to get you
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 131 
 
 away from here, as he feels that your reputation quite 
 throws him into the shade." 
 
 Marco smiled, and said, " Do you know what has 
 come into my head in tliinking over all this ? " 
 
 " Pray tell me." 
 
 " Wliy, to catch him in his own toils. I will go myself 
 to the Val di Nievole, and gain over to my side those eight 
 hundred lancers, every one of whom would go through 
 fire and water for me (my nephew was not wrong there) 
 by paying them their arrears with my own money. I shall 
 leave you here ready for action, and when the Bavarian 
 comes to set that creature of his on his feet, I will swoop 
 down upon him with my eight hundred spearmen from 
 Ceruglio and the Tuscan contingent, which I shall have 
 got together in the meantime." 
 
 Lodrisio sprang up, exclaiming — " Cousin, this plan 
 is worth its weight in gold ; we'll make our friend look 
 foolish before we have done with it." 
 
 " That's enough, we will talk the matter over more 
 carefully presently," said Marco. " I should not wonder 
 if we were to make something out of it. But I am not 
 much in the huinour for going into it any more to-night. 
 So good-bye till to-morrow." 
 
 " I tell you it is a wonderful idea," continued Lodrisio, 
 while on his way to the door, " and what a start it will 
 give us for our intrigues with Florence, to have you in 
 Val di Nievole at the head of eight hundred veterans ! " 
 
 " As to Florence," said Marco, to put an end to the 
 conversation, " you remind me that to-night I have to 
 write to the government there. So good-bye, Cousin." 
 
 " Farewell, then," answered Lodrisio, and departed. 
 
 Marco, when left alone, spent some time in walking 
 up and down the room in an excited manner, and with 
 his head bent down ; from time to time he shook his 
 head, and made a gesture with his hand, as if to throw 
 something off his mind ; at last he stopped, and said, in 
 a loud and decided voice, as if giving himself an order : — 
 " I must now write to the Florentine Government." 
 
 He then unbuckled his sword, so as to be more at his 
 ease, and hung it against the wall ; but in taking hold
 
 132 MARCO VISCONTI, 
 
 of tlie weapon by the liilt, he eauglit sight of Beatrice's 
 favour, that riband which he had fastened thei*e, and 
 looked at it for an instant, then turned contemptuously 
 away. He now approached the table, took a sheet of 
 parchment, uncovered the inkstand, dipped his pen in 
 it, and finding it wrote too thick, began to mend it ; but 
 as he turned and re-turned it, cut it and re-cut it, his 
 brain began to spin. In a few moments he recovered 
 liimself, and suddenly remembering what he was about, 
 and what he intended to do, he threw away the pen- 
 stump which he had spoiled, took a new one, dipped 
 it in the ink in a determined manner, and began to 
 write : — 
 
 "Nobilibus dominis, sapientibus, etc., et Comuni 
 Florentise, amicis diligendis precipue, Marcus Vicecomes 
 cum sincera dilectione, salutem." When he had come 
 to this point, he leant back and gazed at the ceiling, 
 thinking how he should begia his letter ; but after re- 
 maining in this position some time he received no in- 
 spiration, and the letter made no progress. 
 
 At last he took up a great mass of manuscript that 
 was lying before him, and throwing it roughly behind 
 his chair, sprang to his feet, and striking his forehead 
 with his hand, began afresh to pace the room, talking to 
 himself all the time. 
 
 " But did not I know before that she was like Erme- 
 linda ? Did not Ottorino tell me so, both verbally and 
 by letter, twenty times over ? What an idiot I have 
 been ! The voice, too, hers exactly ! and the smile, the 
 figure, the expression of the eyes ! Poor little dove ! at the 
 first sight of her, at the sound of her voice, I seemed to 
 live over again my early years, my years of hope ! Oh ! 
 how far off they seem ! The poison breath of evil had not 
 then tainted my heart — at Ermelinda's side everything 
 seemed smiling, I saw a friend in every one — and after- 
 wards ? What troubles and what base ingratitude I 
 have met with ! And I also got involved in that slough 
 of despond ; I also got drunk with blood ! and yet I feel 
 as if I was born for something better. Beatrice ! it is a 
 lovely name ! "
 
 MARCO YISCONTI. 133 
 
 Here lie interrtipted himself witli a smile of contempt, 
 such as he might have bestowed on an inferior whom he 
 had detected in some derogatory action. 
 
 "And are jou the same Marco," he cried, "in whose 
 hands lies the future of all Italy — you, who are hardened 
 by so many years of bitterness, by such lengthened and 
 severe trials, and on the very threshold of that great 
 dark future to which you are boldly advancing, do you 
 allow yourself to rave about a mere gii-l ? What would 
 that cynic Lodrisio say to it ? Away, foolish vapours, 
 and let my star shine forth again with its accustomed 
 splendour ! " 
 
 So saying he resumed his unfinished letter, and did 
 not lay his pen down or look off the paper till he had 
 filled four closely- written sides ; after which he retired 
 to rest, with his brain full of Gruelphs and GrhibeUines, 
 of Pope and Emperor, of intrigues and war. 
 
 A few days after, Ottorino, returning from Pavia, 
 where he had been sent to negotiate with certain con- 
 spirators, came to his chief, having made uf) his mind to 
 ask point-blank for his consent to take Beatrice as his 
 wife ; but when they met, he found him looking so morose 
 and severe, that his resolution failed him. The young 
 knight first explained all that related to the affairs for 
 which he had been despatched, and then, the better to 
 lead up to what he wished to say on his own account, he 
 began to talk about the Count del Balzo, taking his cue 
 from a dispute the Count had had lately with a friar 
 about the illegality of the deposition of Pope Giovanni ; 
 the result being that the friar had given in to the argu- 
 ments of the Count, who had thus made a great hit. 
 
 Marco laughed to himself at hearing of an affair 
 which he had himself carefully arranged some time be- 
 fore. Our readers must know, that as soon as the Count 
 del Balzo arrived at Milan, Marco, wishing to use him 
 for his own purposes, had arranged that his house should 
 be frequented by divers well-known military leaders and 
 learned men, who discussed there the various contro- 
 versies of the day ; and in order not to leave him with 
 no weapons but his own, which were not altogether of
 
 134 MARCO VISCONTI, 
 
 the finest temper, he had secretly provided some valiant 
 champions, among whom was our old acquaintance, the 
 advocate of the Limontese ; and these worthies came 
 gallantly to the aid of the master of the house when- 
 ever they saw that he was getting the worst of the 
 argument. 
 
 We may fancy how proud the Count must have been, 
 being able to hold forth all day to an attentive and ob- 
 sequious audience, and in addition, to make converts to 
 his own opinions. 
 
 And in regard to these conversions, we must in all 
 confidence let our readers into another secret. They 
 were for the most part the result, not of the eloquence 
 of the orator, but of another eloquence, stronger and 
 more impressive, which was derived from the news from 
 Tuscany, to the effect that the cause of the Antipope 
 Pietro da Corvaria was hopeless, while that of Pope 
 Giovanni was gaining ground every day. Another kind 
 of argument, ad hominem, which is apt to work mar- 
 vellous changes even in the most obstinate minds, came 
 cut of Marco's coffers, which were well supplied with 
 money, and alw^ays open. And then after this trans- 
 action, the convert, if he were a person of any repu- 
 tation for learning, was admitted to Balzo's house, and 
 there, after having disputed a little with the host in 
 favour of opinions ah'eady renounced, he would show 
 himself ready to yield to the force of his opponent's 
 arguments, the weight of his example drawing after him 
 his more ignorant brethren. 
 
 These were artifices suitable to an age which was cha- 
 racterized more by roughness and grossness than craft 
 or malice. In our days, when men's minds are so well 
 trained in the art of deceiving their neighbour, these 
 same devices would appear palpably ridiculous — fit only 
 to ensnare women and children. 
 
 But to revert to Ottorino. He had, as we know, men- 
 tioned the Count for the sole purpose of leading up to 
 his daughter, and now had no sooner finished his de- 
 scription of the conversion of the friar, than he observed 
 a queer kind of covert smile on the countenance of
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 135 
 
 Marco, wbo was not displeased to see how well his arti- 
 fice had succeeded. At this the young knight took 
 heart of grace ; but Marco, whose brow was soon again 
 overcast, said to him with an air of ill-concealed dis- 
 pleasure : 
 
 " How's this ? Wlien I believed that you were busy 
 with your harum-scarum companions, comparing your 
 lances and swords, and discussing horses and feats of 
 arms, I find you settled down among the doctors, dis- 
 puting with them about Popes and Church-law ? " 
 
 "But you must remember," replied Ottorino, a little 
 confused, but none the less glad to be able by some 
 means to approach his wished-for subject, "the Count 
 has only just come to Milan. I am not Ungrateful to 
 him for all his kindness, and — to tell the exact truth — 
 
 to his family also " But he stopped short, seeing a 
 
 dark cloud as of anger gathering on his listener's face. 
 " I am in bad luck," he said to himself ; " I have caught 
 him at an unlucky moment. What can he have in his 
 head ? " 
 
 He then tried to turn the conversation, but in an 
 embarrassed manner, as one who, finding he cannot say 
 what is uppermost in his mind, is obliged to cast about 
 for some other topic in order not to appear foolish. 
 
 Marco let him run on, observing silently his agitated 
 demeanour and incoherent words, and fixed on him a 
 penetrating glance, which seemed as if it would pierce 
 through him ; a glance, before which there were no eyes 
 so proud or so resolute that would not quail. At last the 
 young man was relieved from his difiiculty by the appear- 
 ance of a page, who announced that the Abbot of San 
 Ambrogio was waiting without. 
 
 "Let him come in," said the master; and Ottorino 
 took his leave, somewhat piqued by his ill- success, but 
 without being much concerned at it, as he attributed the 
 coldness of his reception to his leader's capricious temper, 
 more than to anything else. He, therefore, resolved to 
 carry out his project the first time he found Marco in 
 good humour. 
 
 In the meantime he spent most of his time at the side
 
 136 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 of his lady-love, talking to her of his devotion to her, 
 and his hopes, and also of those delightful days when 
 they were together at Limonta, recalling especially to 
 her memory the day of the famous shipwreck, and that 
 of the hawking party ; playfully requiring her to explain 
 the coldness with which she had so often tormented him. 
 Everything now, however, ended happily ; for either by 
 a gentle remark smilingly made by Beatrice's mother, 
 or by a broken word or a shy blush from her at the 
 repetition of these recollections, the enamoured boy ac- 
 quired the certainty of being first in the heart of his 
 mistress. 
 
 On one of these days he received an invitation from 
 his chief to accompany him on a riding-party through 
 the city ; and out of a numerous troop of knights, he was 
 selected by Marco for the honour of riding by his side — 
 a favour that was intensely coveted by all the young 
 admirers of this remarkable man. Marco, responding as 
 he rode, sometimes by bowing and sometimes by waving 
 his hand, to the acclamations of the people who crowded 
 at the windows, on the terraces, and in the streets to 
 see him pass, treated his cousin in the most affectionate 
 manner, and seemed to wish to make up by this unusual 
 cordiality for the harshness with which he had treated 
 him at their last meeting. 
 
 " Look here, cousin," he said, after a time, " I must 
 go very soon into Tuscany, and you shall accompany 
 me." 
 
 The youth was quite disconcerted with this unlooked- 
 for announcement, and answered, hesitating — 
 
 " You are most kind, but — just at this time " 
 
 " What ! Is there anything you have more at heart 
 than your chief at this time ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " But what is it ? " 
 
 " You must remember that I am to be one of the 
 managers of the toui'nament, and that my name is on 
 the proclamation." 
 
 " If that is all, it can be easily arranged. My couT't 
 is not so badly stocked that we cannot find a knight to
 
 MARCO YISCONTI. 137 
 
 take your place. When the concerns of your chief are 
 in question, you know that non-ajjpearance is excused. 
 I understand you," he continued, forcing a smile ; " and 
 suppose I guess why this sudden departure annoys you. 
 It is because Franchino Rusconi is to arrive so soon at 
 Milan with his daughter. But cheer up, for this once 
 duty shall not interfere with love. Before setting out 
 you and she shall be betrothed." 
 
 Ottorino, driven into a corner, saw that he must no 
 longer waver, but explain himself decidedly, so he be- 
 gan— 
 
 " I cannot bear displeasing you, but I implore you 
 by the fidelity with which I have always followed 
 
 you " 
 
 " And what is this preamble to lead to ? " said Marco, 
 roughly cutting his words short. " Have you changed 
 your mind ? " 
 
 " Indeed ! " answered the youth ; " I have never 
 pledged my faith to Franchino's daughter. It was only 
 a castle in the air ; and I fully think I am still perfectly 
 free." 
 
 By this time the cavalcade had reached the Brera del 
 Guercio, and was passing in front of the palace of the 
 Count del Balzo. Marco and Ottorino raised their eyes 
 at the same time towards an open gallery, where the 
 father and daughter were standing and looking on. The 
 reader wall easily guess on which of the two riders the 
 latter's glances were directed, while her father leant over 
 the parapet, bowing and smiling at Marco. After they 
 had passed, the young man tried to renew the interrupted 
 conversation, but his lord, with a stern look, signed to 
 him to drop behind, to where the standard was carried 
 at the rear of the procession ; after which he dropped 
 the reins on his charger's neck, and burying his spurs in 
 its flanks, urged it at full speed as far as the courtyard 
 of his palace, where he dismounted, went up stairs with- 
 out saying a word, and was not seen again all the rest 
 of the day. 
 
 We must now ask our readers to turn back with us 
 as far as Limonta, where we left some of our finends, on
 
 138 MARCO VISCONTI, 
 
 whioin the storm was just going to burst. I allude to 
 the sixty free lances under the command of Bellebuono, 
 who were coming to spread death and havoc throughout 
 the district. 
 
 Whilst these freebooters, having started in the evening 
 from the shore of Lecco, were sailing quietly along with 
 rapine and murder in their hearts ; while Lupo, on the 
 other hand, was rushing at break-neck speed over the in- 
 tricate paths, so as to get in time to warn the threatened 
 people to fly or to prepare to defend themselves ; the 
 Limontese, in happy ignorance, had gone home as usual 
 to attend to their ordinary evening business. 
 
 The cottage of the boatman — father to the man who 
 was drowned — was situated, as we have said, on the 
 other side of the town, looking towards ihe north. All 
 that could be seen of it from the lake was a portion of 
 the thatched roof, with a wooden cross on the top, the 
 rest being concealed by two aged chestnuts, which 
 seemed to fold it in their embrace. The interior con- 
 sisted of one wretched room, with a mud floor, a railed- 
 off dais, and the walls all begrimed with smoke. In one 
 comer was a truckle-bed, concealed under a thick, rough 
 coverlet, called a catalana, from Catalonia, where such 
 articles were made, a name still extant in some of the 
 villages on the Lake of Como. This had been the rest- 
 ing-place of poor Arigozzo, and at that moment there 
 was sleeping upon it a water-spaniel, so lately his faithful 
 companion. 
 
 Abou.t two yards from the foot of the bed stood a 
 massive chest full of earth, inside which, according to 
 the ordinary usage at that time all over Europe (as 
 chimneys had only just been invented) the fire was 
 made, on which was placed a boiling-pot on a tripod. 
 Before the fire, and towards the middle of the room, was 
 a beechen table, while the rest of the furniture consisted 
 of four straw-bottomed chairs, half-a-dozen oars, a small 
 rack fastened by pegs to the wall filled with three ro\s's 
 of plates, three earthen porringers, and three brass 
 spoons as bright as gold, a chest, a three-pronged fork, 
 and a net made of twigs.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 139 
 
 Near the table, beneath an iron lamp, by a hook in 
 the wall, old Marta, the mother of the drowned man, sat 
 spinning. Her old weather-beaten face, seamed with 
 many a wrinkle, her upright carriage, the firm move- 
 ments of her limbs, denoted a strong and robnst con- 
 stitution, not broken down by the labours and hardships 
 of poverty. But that countenance, formerly so peaceful 
 and serene, was now darkened by a recent and unac- 
 customed sorrow. Any one seeing her for the first time 
 might easily observe on those features a pallor by no 
 means usual, and somewhat deeper wrinkles, and yet 
 you would readily guess that those eyes, now swelled 
 with recent tears, were not much accustomed to weeping. 
 
 Her lips could be seen to move, as in prayer, but little 
 could be heard, save a few last syllables dying away in 
 gentle murmurs, and accompanied by frequent and re- 
 verent inclinations of her head. 
 
 From time to time she turned her eyes to that small 
 bed, and then raised them to heaven, as if praying the 
 Lord to take her to himself and re-unite her to her dear 
 Arigozzo. 
 
 Michael, with his back turned to the table, was sitting 
 near the fire, bending over it, and stirring with a ladle 
 some millet and milk porridge which was boiling in the 
 pot. His countenance displayed a rougher and more 
 sturdy sorrow, mingled with a certain amount of anger 
 and irritation. He kept his back studiously turned to 
 his wife to prevent her maternal sorrow increasing his 
 ovra, and went on with his task without once raising his 
 head. 
 
 Some half -hour afterwards the woman rose to her feet, 
 took her distaff, went to the fire, and took down the pot ; 
 and then approaching the rack, still absorbed in her 
 devotions, her eye fell on the three porringers placed 
 there ; she took them out mechanically, and in her pre- 
 occupation repeating the actions she had been accustomed 
 to for so many years, she placed all three on the table, 
 put a spoon at the side of each, poured out the food, and 
 called out: — "Michael, come to supper." But as the 
 husband was approaching the table the wife perceived
 
 140 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 tliat slie liad placed one trencher too many, and tlierefore 
 seized hastily one of the three porringers and put it on 
 the ground, pretending to have filled it for the dog. But 
 this hasty action did not escape the husband : he noticed 
 that third spoon which still remained in its usual place 
 on the table, and guessing the loving forgetfulness of 
 the mother, turned his face aside to hide his emotion, 
 and after taking up his plate and spoon, he vpent back 
 to his former place. 
 
 Marta bent her head down on her chest, took a moment 
 to compose herself, and then called the spaniel by his 
 name. The dog lifted his head slightly from between 
 his legs and wagged his tail, but did not move, so she 
 went towards the bed, and caressing him with her hand 
 and voice, she took him up and set him down close to 
 his portion. In old days she had never favoured the 
 dog ; she had always had a grudge against him, and on 
 his account had sometimes scolded her son, because in 
 years of scarcity she looked upon the creature as a bur- 
 den on the needy family ; but since Arigozzo's death it 
 would have appeared to her actual sacrilege to deprive 
 the poor animal of any of its accustomed comforts or to 
 say an unkind word to it. 
 
 The dog thanked the good woman in his own way for 
 this unaccustomed attention with a low howl, that was 
 almost like a human groan, and at last put his nose to 
 the plate, licked it for an instant, and then sprang again 
 on the bed, and crouched down quietly as before. " See, 
 this poor beast wants to die like him," said the old 
 woman to herself, after watching him. She sat down, 
 crossed herself, and began to eat. She took a few 
 spoonfuls of the porridge, after having stirred it up, but 
 she could hardly swallow, and it was only when her 
 husband turned round to place on the table his bowl 
 that she gulped down in haste two or three mouthfuls 
 to show him that she was inclined to eat. 
 
 Directly after, she saw that the bowl her husband had 
 put down was almost as full as before, so she took it up 
 in one hand, and going up to him where he was sitting 
 by the fii'e-side, she touched his shoulder, and said —
 
 MARCO yiSCONTI. 141 
 
 " Michael, cheer up and eat, for God's sake ; you'll never 
 last out, if you behave like this : all day long you eat 
 nothing." The boatman, without answering, roughly 
 moved his shoulder away, and she continued sadly : 
 " Come, eat something at least. Do you wish to die of 
 starvation ? You ought to feel it your duty to take care 
 of yourself : if it was only for my sake, for what should 
 I do without you ? " and then a burst of tears choked 
 her utterance. 
 
 " Will you never have done with your weeping ? " 
 the boatman was at last driven to cry out : " all day 
 long you are at it ! " and drying his own eyes with the 
 back of his hand — " What can I do ? I can't bring 
 him to life again. By my soul, I can't bear it much 
 longer ! " 
 
 The poor old woman drove back the bitter tears which 
 so often made her heart swell to bursting, wiped her 
 eyes on her apron, and returned to her spinning. 
 
 For a short time neither spoke ; the wife, though 
 never stopping her work, glanced from time to time at 
 her husband, who, seated on a low stool, with his elbows 
 on his knees and his head in his hands, seemed to be 
 weeping. 
 
 At last he got up, and coming near his wife he touched 
 her, and seemed to be about to say something to cheer 
 her, as if he had wished to make up for his rough- 
 ness with some tender word ; but in the end, he only 
 said — 
 
 " Well, Marta, I will do as you would have me, I will 
 eat to please you," and began to eat. " Look here. 
 Marta," he went on after a time, "to-morrow 1 must 
 take the Syndic of the district to Dervio ; so with the 
 money he gives me we will have a mass said for the boy, 
 and it shall be at Lugano, where there is no interdict." 
 
 " I have already had a mass said," answered the wife, 
 and pointing to the distaff full : " Do you see that 
 wool ? " she said ; " it is for the priest of Lugano ; the 
 spinning pays for the price of the mass." 
 
 The boatman pressed his lips together, for they were 
 trembling with the sudden pang of sorrow which he felt,
 
 142 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 and keeping his tears back with difficulty, he felt at the 
 same time a sensation of intense affection for the aged 
 companion of his life, which was more holy, and, we will 
 even say, more tender than the first fervent love he had 
 given her in the days of his youth.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 143 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE hour was late ; nothing was to be heard but the 
 low murmur of the lake, drowned from time to 
 time by the rustling of the wind among the branches of 
 the chestnut-trees overshadowing the boatman's cottage, 
 when suddenly the dog raised his head from his crouch- 
 ing position on the little bed, pricked up his ears and 
 began to growl, then leapt down and ran towards the 
 door, barking violently. Michael and his wife strained 
 their ears, but could hear nothing unusual. The husband 
 unfastened the bar of the door and went out, and then 
 heard, far away to the right, towards Limonta, the bay- 
 ing of another hound, the fisherman's dog. He then 
 went up a rock behind his hut, and looking towards the 
 town he saw the sky on that side quite red, and the 
 higher cHffs reflecting a changing light, which ran along 
 like a streak of flame. 
 
 " A fire at Limonta ! " he cried out, and hastened off 
 at a rapid pace to give what help he could. 
 
 " Take care of yourself Ì " his wife called after him, 
 and then she returned to her house to kneel in prayer 
 to God. 
 
 Michael heard on his way some shouts which came 
 from the town, and soon after other cries from many 
 parts — from the rhountain side, and then from the 
 shore ; at first these were so distinct and definite that he 
 could have pointed out almost the very house from 
 whence they came ; but by degrees, as the different 
 sounds gathered strength, they became confounded in 
 one long continued roar. 
 
 At last he reached a height from which he could 
 ascertain that the fii'e had not been accidentally caused, 
 for he saw two houses burning at the same time at the
 
 144 MAKCO VISCONTI. 
 
 two opposite ends of tlie village. He strained his ear, 
 putting up one liand behind it, to collect the sound, and 
 amidst that noise and confusion he distinguished loud 
 voices raised in anger and blasphemy ; he fixed his eyes 
 intently on the churchyard, and in the midst of the 
 tumult, he perceived a gleam as of armour and spears, 
 vs^hich made him suspect the true cause of it all, and we 
 shall see that he guessed aright. 
 
 In the meantime the conflagration increased — in a 
 moment it seemed as if the whole country was in flames. 
 The lake seemed on fire ; some boats might be seen 
 leaving its shores with vigorous strokes ; at first they 
 and their inmates seemed almost red-hot, but they grew 
 paler as they proceeded, and tinted with a fading colour 
 they at times vanished from sight, and again returned 
 to show themselves in the last streaks of light leaping 
 on the waves, till they were at length entirely lost in the 
 infinite darkness of the night. 
 
 The boatman felt tempted to start off into the midst 
 of that scene of slaughter, but he was restrained by the 
 remembrance of her whom he had left alone in his poor 
 hut. 
 
 While he was standing there, he at last heard a noise 
 of some living creature approaching ; he drew behind 
 the trunk of an old olive-tree, and by the light which 
 the flames threw even to that distance, he saw a woman 
 advancing with a child in her arms, a httle girl hanging 
 to her apron, and dragging behind her a small cow. 
 The stubborn beast was continually turning round to 
 look towards the village, attracted, perhaps, by love of 
 its forsaken stall, and lowed at intervals ; then might be 
 heard at various distances, and in various directions, 
 m.any lowings replying to the first, from other unfor- 
 tunate peasants, who were escaping with their families, 
 their sohtary cow, and their few possessions. 
 
 Michael soon recognized the woman, and came for- 
 ward addressing her by her name. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " he asked. " Tell me if I can 
 help you ? " 
 
 " The soldiers of the monastery have set fire to the
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 145 
 
 whole country," answered the terrified creature, "and 
 are killing all those who fall into their hands. We are 
 undone ; we are all ruined. Oh, mercy ! what things I 
 have seen. This is the last night for Limonta ; the 
 Lord must be punishing it for some great sin. Michael," 
 she added, in an imploring voice ; " since Providence 
 has sent you, do me the charity to help me to pull on 
 this obstinate beast, which is all that is left to me to 
 support my poor children." 
 
 The boatman took the rope in his right hand, and the 
 little girl in his left, for she was trotting after her mother 
 weeping, and adapted his pace to the small hurried steps 
 of the child, and thus they wended their way all together 
 towards Bellagio. 
 
 " The Lord will reward you," said the unhappy 
 woman, " for your kindness to the poor widow ; it will 
 be paid back to you in the other world, and it will help 
 the salvation of your Arigozzo. Ah, Michael ! the whole 
 country pitied you, and talked of nothing but your grief ; 
 but to-morrow, how many will have to moui"n for a son, 
 and how many will envy you for having lost yours in 
 the way you did." 
 
 He, in the meantime, walked on with a bursting 
 heart, now glancing at the country on fire, and now at 
 his own cottage. When he had placed the widow and 
 her family in safety, he returned in all haste to his hut. 
 
 Just as he was stepping inside, he saw a man coming 
 towards him partly dressed in armour, and believing him 
 to be one of the troops who was devastating Limonta, 
 he seized the bar of the door, and went boldly to meet 
 him, but the soldier at once cried out : " Michael, don't 
 you know me ? " 
 
 " Oh ! is it you. Lupo ? Do you belong to these 
 marauding scoundrels ? " 
 
 " God preserve me from it ! I was hastening to give 
 warning, but I was not in time, for the soldiers had 
 already arrived, and the place was on fire and our people 
 either killed or flown ; now, since force can do nothing, 
 we must think of some plan to prevent, at least, the evil 
 which is not yet done ; to snatch from those devils' 
 
 L
 
 ]46 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 clutclies those whom they have taken alive, and whom 
 they are going to hang to-morrow, as Stefano, the fisher- 
 man, told me, whom I met on the shore of the lake." 
 
 " G od preserve us ! you can count on me; but what 
 can two do against so many ? " said the boatman. 
 
 " We are not alone ; there are some others who are 
 waiting for us, and I have just thought of a stratagem ; 
 but you must help me, and I have come to seek you 
 knowing you are a man of spirit." 
 
 "God preserve us!" again said Michael; "you 
 see " 
 
 But his wife, guessing the loving anxiety which made 
 him hesitate, said at once : " Do not think of me ; the 
 angels above will watch over this house, and even if — 
 why it is only duty to one's neighbours, and must be 
 done ; so go, go ! " 
 
 Michael only replied with " God keep you," and de- 
 parted hastily in company with Lupo, who, on the road, 
 explained his plan. They made some changes in it 
 together, and prepared each their own parts. When 
 they arrived at the village. Lupo, taking a cross-road, 
 went to pick up three or four other Limontese, armed 
 with hatchets and knives, who were waiting for him 
 crouched down in a cave ; and Michael, entirely un- 
 armed, without even a stick, went straight off to the 
 churchyard, where were assembled the soldiers of the 
 monastery. He had hardly made his appearance there, 
 when one of them ran upon him with a drawn sword ; 
 but the boatman, lifting up his hands before they met, 
 cried out : "I am come to see your chief ; is he not 
 called Bellebuono ? " 
 
 " And what have you to do with Bellebuono ? " 
 
 " That is a secret. Come, tell me where to find him, 
 and it will be for your advantage also." 
 
 "At the worst," said the soldier to himself, "this is 
 another simpleton come to fall into the trap ; he will 
 only serve to increase our sport to-morrow. Well, then, 
 old bumpkin," he said aloud, "come with me." And so 
 saying, he led him into the little church, where was col- 
 lected the small booty taken in the place, and where
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 147 
 
 were standing, witli tlieir hands tied behind them, the 
 party of seven wretches who had fallen alive into the 
 power of these ruffians, who were amusing themselves 
 by tormenting them. Michael recognized the priest 
 among these poor people, who, as he entered, was just 
 receiving a savage blow from the fist of a. soldier. 
 
 " There is Bellebuono," said Michael's conductor, 
 pointing to the very man who had dealt the blow. Our 
 boatman went up to this person, who at first appeared 
 ready to eat him alive, but soon softened down on hear- 
 ing some information which was whispered into his ear. 
 They spoke for some time under their breath, and, at 
 the end, the chief of the sixty lances chose out four 
 soldiers, and went off guided by the Limontese towards 
 a small house some little way from the village, near the 
 valley of Roncate. 
 
 " You say it'll be more than three hundred florins," 
 said Bellebuono to his guide, they two being eight or 
 ten paces in front of the four soldiers of the escort. 
 
 " Certainly ! " was the answer ; " it is the church 
 plate and the savings of twenty years." 
 
 " But is not the priest's house the one over there near 
 the belfry ? " 
 
 " The one I am taking you to belongs to his nephew, 
 and the treasure is there." 
 
 " Why the devil did not my soldiers find it out while 
 they were foraging about all night ? " 
 
 " But it seemed so unlikely. It would never enter 
 anyone's head to search where I told you." 
 
 Meanwhile they arrived at the little house on the side 
 of the hill, and Michael said, " Here it is ! " 
 
 "Now, you. Ribaldo, and you, VincigTierra," said 
 Bellebuono, " stay here as sentinels, and let no one out 
 unless with me ; and at the first notice you are to sum- 
 mon the others if we want them ; and the rest of you 
 come with me." 
 
 " Look here," said the boatman to the leader, when 
 he had given these orders — and he spoke in a voice to 
 be heard also by the other four soldiers — "you have 
 promised me in return to set all your prisoners at liberty."
 
 148 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 " Yes, I've promised you ; I'll give tliem all to you, 
 except the priest, who has wearied me so often with his 
 cursed sermons, that I want to bury him nicely alive, to 
 see if he'll have as much talk in him when he has got 
 his head downwards." 
 
 " No, no," replied Michael ; " you engaged for all." 
 
 " Well, then, I'll give you the priest also, provided 
 always that I am not disappointed in the treasure you 
 promise me." 
 
 The man who had got the order stayed to guard the 
 door ; Bellebuono, Michael, and the other two soldiers 
 ran up a staircase, and found themselves in a passage, in 
 front of which was a small door. 
 
 " If you want me to go down with you," said the 
 Limontese to the leader, " I will show you the place." 
 
 " Ah, you knave ! " answered he, " there's some trick 
 in the wind, and you'll be running away and leave me 
 in the lurch like a fool. No, no, remain with these two 
 good fellows, who will keep you company. Soldiers, 
 whatever may happen, don't let him out of your hands 
 till I come back." 
 
 The two lancers took the boatman between them, who, 
 on his part, made no objection, and only went on speak- 
 ing to Bellebuono, who with a lantern in his hand, ad- 
 vanced to the door mentioned before. " You can't mis- 
 take-: after the second room, a winding staircase, and 
 under the fourth barrel, a square stone." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I remember it all," answered Bellebuono. 
 
 " Do you wish me to come also ? " persisted the boatman. 
 
 " I can do it by myself." These were the last words 
 of the trooper, who had already penetrated to the second 
 room. They heard the sound of his steps descending a 
 staircase, the light of the lantern gradually diminished 
 and at last disappeared entirely. Some moments of 
 silence followed, after which was heard, down below in 
 the cellar, a dull noise, as if something heavy had fallen. 
 
 The boatman trembled all over; his heart was in his 
 mouth. It was fortunate for him that there was not 
 light enough for the two guards to remark the sudden 
 pallor of his countenance.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 149 
 
 " What can tliat noise be ? " said the two soldiers to 
 each other. " Can Bellebuono have stumbled ? can he 
 have moved something ? do you think any one could 
 have been hidden there ? shall we go and see ? " 
 
 " Let's go ! but no ; he said we were to wait here." 
 
 While this discussion was going on they perceived, by 
 the light of a burning house, Bellebuono appear at the 
 door where he had entered and make a sign to the boat- 
 man, who, having approached, they exchanged some 
 sentences in an under tone, and then Michael, raising 
 his voice so as to be heard by the soldiers in whose charge 
 he had been left, said, " Now that I have kept my pro- 
 mise, it is for you to keep yours." 
 
 They now went out, picked up the two others who 
 had remained as sentinels, and all took their way towards 
 the church. When they were in a narrow lane, the 
 boatman fell behind with the man whom the four lancers 
 continued to obey as their chief, who seemed busily en- 
 gaged in shaking some blood from his gauntlet. 
 
 " And what odds ? " he said in a low voice, " after all 
 it would be more suspicious to be free from blood than 
 to be stained with it such a night as this." 
 
 They whispered together a little longer, and then 
 stopping short., the boatman called out to the four lancers, 
 who were in front, and said : " Look here, your leader is 
 going down to the shore for a moment, to send off in a 
 boat something or other which he has under his arm, and 
 will be back directly. In the meantime you are to go on 
 with me and release the prisoners." 
 
 Then the man who had scarcely spoken latterly, said 
 in a low voice to the soldiers, " Take this. Ribaldo, and 
 you, Vinciguerra, and you two besides " — and gave to 
 each of them a handful of silver money — " this is your 
 earnest-money, so go and release those prisoners at 
 once." So saying, he sprang down the incline and dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 The boatman, with the four soldiers, continued on 
 their way, and one of the last said to his companion, 
 " Did you notice how changed Bellebnono's voice seemed 
 — how unlike himself ? "
 
 150 MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 " It was because lie had his visor down," answered the 
 other. 
 
 " I'll tell you what it was rather," said another, " it 
 was because of what he had under his arm." 
 
 " The devil ! " said a third. " We soldiers are not 
 used to see so much gold, and it rather confuses us." 
 
 " And did he really say he would go shares with us ? " 
 said the first soldier to Michael. 
 
 " Look here," was the answer, " one half he'll keep for 
 himself, as is only fair, and the other he'll divide between 
 you four." 
 
 " And you, my good fellow," said the first man, " ought 
 not to be left with empty pockets, for you are an honest 
 fellow, and the soldier's friend." 
 
 " As for me, I only ask for what your captain pro- 
 mised me ; but if you will give me anything, it will be 
 so much charity." 
 
 " Come, take this, take this ! " and each one put in his 
 hand a piece of the money they had received just before, 
 for their hopes of further gifts from Bellebuono made 
 them feel very liberal. 
 
 They had now arrived at the church, and on their 
 entrance the four soldiers, in Bellebuono's name, ordered 
 the sentinels to let the prisoners go, and at once to cut 
 the cords with which they were tied. When they were 
 unfastened, and on their feet, Vinciguerra said to the 
 boatman — " Now be off, my good man, and be satisfied." 
 
 But while Michael was on his way to the mountain 
 with his rescued friends, who, nearly besides themselves 
 with joy, overwhelmed him with a hundred questions, 
 the news of the affair went the round of the Sacristy, 
 and a crowd of soldiers ran up to prevent the prisoners' 
 departure. 
 
 " It's not true ! " was the universal cry ; " it can't be 
 true that these are Bellebuono's orders ! " 
 
 " Yes, it's true enough ! he told us himself ! " answered 
 the four lancers. 
 
 " No, no, it is all made up," retiirned another still 
 louder. " I tell you that as he was going off with you, 
 just now, Bellebuono stopped a moment behind to say in
 
 MAECO YISCONTI. 151 
 
 my ear that another rope nmst be got ready for this 
 peasant when he came back." 
 
 "But then he told us his very own self," urged the 
 four soldiers ; "he ordered us to do everything this good 
 man wished, and to release the prisoners." 
 
 " No, no ; it's a lie ; there is some plot underneath ! " 
 shouted the greater number of the rabble, and some of 
 them were beginning to lay their hands on the prisoners 
 and the boatman, when there was a sudden cry of 
 " Bellebuono ! Bellebuono ! here is Bellebuono ! " 
 
 And there he was sure enough running towards them 
 entirely dressed in armour, with his visor down and his 
 powerful spear in his hand. As soon as he was among 
 the crowd, he lifted the weighty ashen weapon and laid 
 about him right and left, calling out, or rather grumbling 
 between his teeth, "You scoundrels ! You rabble ! " 
 
 The suiferers drew back in much confusion, and tried 
 which could excuse themselves most humbly. " I did 
 not think you could have given those orders. It was 
 because you told me yourself before." But he never 
 stopped laying about him, not caring whom he hit. 
 
 When they were all dispersed, he gave his arm to the 
 priest, and made a sign to the other rescued ones to 
 follow him, and went ofi with them on the first path 
 that led to the mountain, leaving the soldiers, in their 
 amazement, to interchange mutual recriminations, and 
 to make the best of their bruises. 
 
 When they had got some way, the priest turned to 
 his deliverer, who still held him by the arm, assisting 
 him to cHmb the mountain, and thanking him in the 
 best way he could, told him that he could now go back, 
 as they were in safety. All the others pressed round the 
 supposed Bellebuono, declaring that they owed him their 
 lives. Then he, taking off his helmet, discovered him- 
 self. The reader will have already guessed that it was 
 Lupo who now appeared before them. 
 
 The soldiei's waited that night and the next day, and 
 the next, for Bellebuono to come down from the moun- 
 tain, but they might wait for ever: the four men who 
 had accompanied him on his last expedition went back
 
 152 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 to the same house, and. down the staircase they had heard 
 him descend, then into a gi-ound-floor room, and further 
 on into a cellar, where, in an adjoining hole, they found 
 him stretched dead on the ground. 
 
 Then they understood clearly the cunning of the clown, 
 as they called him ; they understood that there must 
 have been men hidden in the cellar, of which they found 
 a material proof, for they discovered a cuirass and a 
 soldier's jacket, which one of Bellebuono's murderers 
 had taken off in order to conceal himself under the 
 armour of that i-uffian, and to mislead the soldiers of the 
 monastery in the way he did. 
 
 The fury of those disappointed scoundrels may easily 
 be imagined. " The rascally traitor ! " they said, foam- 
 ing at the mouth ; " if we could only get hold of him ! 
 Yes, but the treacherous peasant has found a den ; he 
 has ran off with his wife, and all the others who escaped 
 are safe too, the villains ! " 
 
 The sixty lances remained still for five days at Limonta, 
 venting their rage on those poor houses and fields ; but 
 then finding they could not discover the fugitives com- 
 manded by Lupo, they re-embarked at last for Lecco, 
 not without leaving behind eight or ten of their com- 
 rades, to enrich with their corpses the fields they had 
 devastated. 
 
 The news of these events arrived at Milan at last, and 
 came to the ears of Marco Visconti the evening of the 
 same day on which he had taken that ride with Otto- 
 rino which we have described above — a day black and 
 agitated even for him who had had so many turbulent 
 adventures. 
 
 The Abbot of San Ambrogio arrived in panting haste 
 at his palace, and gave him the whole history. 
 
 The Abbot of San Ambrogio, the brother, as we have 
 said, of Lodrisio Visconti, was quite devoted to Marco, 
 who made use of his name, and proposed to employ the 
 forces of his convent for his projects, with which the 
 reader is acquainted, but which were quite unknown to 
 the Abbot, who was used as a tool by his brother. Marco 
 and Lodrisio knew only too well that the Abbot would
 
 MARCO YISCONTI. 153 
 
 not have been willing to separate himself from the Anti- 
 pope and the Emperor, by whose favours he had been 
 i-aised from a simple monk to such a height, and there- 
 fore thej had judged it best to leave him in ignorance of 
 the secret. For however firm a friend yon may have, 
 however much he may revere and fear you, to insist on 
 his cutting olf his feet to please you would be too much, 
 and Marco knew enough of men never to ask too much 
 of them. 
 
 After the Abbot had related very fully and vehemently 
 the story of Limonta, he concluded by saying : " And all 
 this is the work, in a way I should never have expected, 
 of one of our own relations, one of your own creatures ; 
 yes, those rebel peasants have found protection under 
 the shadow of your name." 
 
 Marco, who had allowed the prelate to give vent to 
 his passion without interrupting him, felt his own anger 
 rising at these last words, and turning on the speaker a 
 severe glance, " What do you mean by mixing me up in 
 this affair ? Your reverence," he said to him, " do you 
 know that although I am not accustomed to allow any 
 under me to neglect or go beyond any of my commands, 
 I yet am not used to suffer unjust blame to be cast on 
 any of my people." 
 
 " Forgive me," said the Abbot, at once perceiving that 
 he had made a mistake ; " it is not that I mean to speak 
 of any of your immediate followers ; I said one of your 
 people, as a form of sj^eech, because he is in the service 
 of one of them ; but he is quite unworthy of the post, 
 for he is the son of a cut-throat, and looks what he is." 
 
 " Well, what is he ? " 
 
 " He is a squire of Ottorino's — one Lupo, son of a 
 falconer of Count del Balzo ; it was he who killed Belle- 
 buono. I told you that some armour and a soldier's 
 jacket were found by the corpse ; did I not ? " 
 
 "Yes, you said so." 
 
 " Well, these are recognized as belonging to this Lupo, 
 and I am told that he is coming back directly to Milan, 
 to Ottorino's house, as if nothing had happened. But I 
 repeat, I am sure that Ottorino had nothing to do with
 
 154 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 it ; not to speak of the relationsliip between his family 
 and mine, he knows how well I stand with yon, and 
 wonld certainly have refrained from injuring me. And, 
 besides, it is easy to see that this scoundrel has acted out 
 of his own head, for, being from Limonta, he wanted to 
 assist his own people. So I came to ask your leave — to 
 beg you to be willing " 
 
 " To do what ? " 
 
 " That the monastery of San Ambrogio, as represent- 
 ing the Count of Limonta, should exercise its rights of 
 lordship, to punish this criminal." 
 
 Marco appeared doubtful what to say ; and the other 
 became still more pressing, and said : " If it only con- 
 cerned an offence personal to me I could forgive it ; but, 
 you see, it has to do with the honour and interest of the 
 monastery." 
 
 " Yes, yes, the old story," said Marco, interrupting 
 him. " Well, you must settle your own affairs as you 
 please ; what have I to do with them ? " 
 
 " I have come to you to show my consideration for 
 you, and the gratitude which I owe you for so many 
 favours," said the Abbot. " Do not think that I forget 
 that even my new dignity is your gift." 
 
 As regarded the dignity of Abbot, this was true ; 
 Marco had obtained it for him from the Bavarian ; but 
 as to the more recent one of Cardinal, he had nothing to 
 do with it ; it had fallen to this prelate by a decree of 
 the Antipope Pietro da Corvara, who, seeing himself 
 sink lower and lower, sought by distributing incum- 
 bencies, dignities, indulgences, everything but pence — 
 of which he had none — he sought, we say, to create par- 
 tisans for himself of people interested in keeping him in 
 his place, and who, at the worst, might be companions 
 in his fall. 
 
 Marco, however, accepted the compliment as a whole, 
 without any scruple as to limiting the gratitude of his 
 old client, who now departed, making great protestations 
 of devotion, offering himself, his monks, and all the 
 feudatories of the monastery for the service of liim and 
 his friends.
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 155 
 
 This new incident increased still more tlie anger 
 which Marco felt against Ottorino, for though in the 
 Abbot's pi-esence he had shown himself indignant at the 
 mere suspicion that any of his followers should have had 
 a hand in the business, in his heart he believed that 
 Ottorino could not be entirely guiltless ; that Lupo had 
 not left liim in the dark as to what he was about to do. 
 He thought that his intimacy with the house of Balzo 
 might have induced him to do something to assist the 
 Limontese. His thoughts then flew to Beatrice, and he 
 was more than ever consumed by jealous rage.
 
 156 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 YES, with jealousy. Since that day when Marco had 
 seen, for the first time, the daughter of the Count 
 del Balzo, the image of that lovely maiden had remained 
 fixed in his mind, hke a vision in the dreams of a fevered 
 man. She was, indeed, ever before him ; in the midst 
 of stormy councils, terrible secrets, she appeared to him ; 
 she was linked to all the joys and hopes of his indomit- 
 able soul ; now becoming part of a splendid future, she 
 spread around sweetness and celestial peace ; now, on 
 the contrary, it seemed as if some nerve was severed, and 
 he was wandering in the raidst of a dark, cold desert, 
 where riches, and power, and fame, everything that 
 usually agitated his life, was changed to vanity ; it was 
 as if, in the heat of a dance, the music had suddenly 
 ceased, leaving the dancers astonished and in. inextricable 
 confusion. 
 
 At a time of life vigorous, it is true, but of a mature 
 vigour, when the illusions of youth are past ; accustomed 
 for many years to the uncontrolled license of military 
 life, his sensibilities deadened by the shocks of fate and 
 the general wickedness of men, to abandon himself to 
 love ! And yet he did so abandon himself, with the 
 thoughtless rashness of an inexperienced youth, and with 
 the fatal resolution of a man who had always lived under 
 arms, and in the midst of bloodshed. 
 
 Marco had never truly loved any other woman than 
 Ermelinda. That love, when it became hopeless, had 
 gradually declined as years rolled on, and had given 
 place to the fury of faction, to thirst for dominion and 
 vengeance, to all those other desires, some magnanimous, 
 some base, which made him appear to the world in that 
 both glorious and guilty character which our chroniclers
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 157 
 
 iave handed dovrà to us. But, however, Erraelinda had 
 never quite been effaced from his heart ; the remem- 
 brance of her would suffice to control him sometimes in 
 the stormj impulses of bis anger — would prompt him to 
 grant life to the supplications of an enemy, to raise one 
 who had fallen, so that he seemed as if he might be still 
 the friend of that angel, the young Marco, that Marco 
 changed by fate and passion into something so different. 
 By this time he knew that she, the mother of grown-up 
 children, must have lost her first beauty ; but still, when 
 his thoughts turned to her, he could only fancy her as 
 she was in the morning of her days, gay, blooming, with 
 that face, those eyes, which, in his youth, had made the 
 light and happiness of his life. He had never seen her 
 since, and her image was still in all its youthful fresh- 
 ness before his mind. He could no more fancy those 
 charms altered in any way by envious years than he 
 could imagine that a portrait of youth and beauty could 
 fade and wither into age on the canvas. And therefore 
 when he saw Beatrice first at Milan, and found the 
 daughter so like his remembrance of her mother, he was 
 fascinated in an irresistible manner, his heart accepted 
 her as its own ; that heart, grown lukewarm, and even 
 cold, by lapse of time, kindled into new life, beat with 
 its old strength, and bent under the former yoke. 
 
 At first having persuaded himself that it was only a 
 temporary ebullition of his passion drawn from so many 
 memories, he was angry with himself, determined to 
 conquer himself, and felt sure of doing so ; but the very 
 exertions he made to throw off the toils in which he was 
 entangled, only drew them closer round him. Wearied 
 at last with his efforts, he relaxed them, without be- 
 coming aware of it, in the hope of bringing to a happy 
 end the love, which he now found too difiicult to conquer. 
 He thought how any prince in Italy, to say notliing of 
 Count Balzo, would welcome the honour of having him 
 as son-in-law, and as to Ennelinda, he thought that 
 though he had killed her father, he had killed him in 
 fair fight, and out of vengeance and fierce love for her- 
 self ; and that, therefore, the abhorrence which she would
 
 158 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 naturally feel for the author of that crime would be, in 
 some degree, softened by the cause of it ; because there 
 is no woman of such ferocious and austere virtue that 
 does not incline secretly to excuse the faults derived 
 from love for herself. 
 
 On the other side, in those times of perpetual war, 
 passions were always awake, vengeance always ready ; 
 blood was paid for hj blood, and discords were too fre- 
 quent for cases not often to occur where the murderer 
 was allied with the family of the murdered one. 
 
 These thoughts gladdened his soul ; he began to feel 
 easier, and the poison of love entered deeper into his 
 blood, thrilling each fibre as it ran. 
 
 The time came when he seemed to have made peace 
 with himseK ; he felt a new and fresh life added to his 
 former one ; the future, towards which he was hastening, 
 seemed to become more beautiful and smiling ; he had 
 never desired so much the lordship of Milan, he had 
 never urged on so vehemently the perilous career that 
 was to lead him to it, as in those few days, in which at 
 the end of all his visions he saw Beatrice, at whose feet 
 he could lay everything and himself. 
 
 But the first suspicions of the attachment between the 
 maiden and Ottorino soon came to awake him from that 
 dream. Any comparison is too feeble to describe the 
 madness of his wild soul at the cold touch of jealousy. 
 He remained for a long time considering whether his 
 fear had any foundation ; he was determined to satisfy 
 himself, and did so on the ride described before. 
 
 That day he had arranged with Lodrisio the whole 
 intrigue to deprive his nephew Azzone of the lordship of 
 Milan, and Marco had decided to go himself to Ceruglio 
 to enrol on his own account the rebel German band, as 
 he had planned, and was to start as soon as possible ; 
 but since he had felt convinced of the love of the two 
 young people, everything was upset. How best could 
 he arrange his future course ? 
 
 Should he take Ottorino with him ? but the boy might 
 be unwilling ; or if he came willingly, he did not wish 
 to have him always before him. Could he send him,
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 159 
 
 under pretence of some negotiation, to a distant country, 
 where he might be delayed till Marco's own return from 
 Ceruglio ? But he could not feign alfection for and con- 
 fidence in a serpent who had stung his soul. Should he 
 leave him here, near Beatrice, he might find them, on 
 his successful return from his enterprise, already mar- 
 ried. This idea maddened him, and filled his heart with 
 a rage beyond all control. 
 
 But after having wavered between a hundred alter- 
 natives, he inclined to a gentler course ; he resolved to 
 depart in any case, but first to summon the Count del 
 Balzo, in order to inspire him with a great terror of the 
 Rusconi, and to threaten him with fearful consequences, 
 if ever, for Beatrice's sake, Ottorino should fail of his 
 promise ; he knew his man, and was certain of the suc- 
 cess of his scheme. 
 
 After he had settled on this plan, new hopes began to 
 fill his soul ; he allowed himself to listen to some argu- 
 ments wliich shook the despairing certainty he had at 
 first felt. Who could prove that Beatrice had responded 
 to Ottorino's love ? There was no proof, except that 
 very natural blush which had appeared when she saluted 
 the young knight from the balcony, when they passed 
 on horseback. This had sufl&ced to convince him, but 
 might he not be wrong ? 
 
 He longed to clear it up, and determined to see Bea- 
 trice, and question her himself as to the state of her 
 affections. He caused a feast to be prepared for the day 
 preceding that which he had arranged for his journey, 
 and invited the Count, letting him know that he ex- 
 pected him without fail, in company with his daughter. 
 
 In the meantime, a new affair happened which would 
 have easily led Marco by another road to the same end. 
 We will describe it after having briefly spoken of Otto- 
 rino. 
 
 Ottorino felt very indignant at the severe and morose 
 way in which he had been treated on the last occasion of 
 seeing his chieftain, and had returned to justify himself, 
 and to excuse himself for his hesitation when invited to 
 go to Tuscany, to offer to go there after all, and to beg
 
 160 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 to bo re-admitted into favoiir, but the door was always 
 denied to. him; and at last he was told never again to 
 set foot in that house. 
 
 It need not be said how keenly he felt this. Only too 
 far from suspecting the true reason for this treatment, 
 he put it all down to his refusal of Rusconi's daughter ; 
 and in truth that seemed cause enough to account for 
 his fall in the good graces of a man like Marco. 
 
 Then he began to think seriously of his own affairs — 
 to renounce Beatrice was not to be thought of ; but how 
 should he arrange it with his leader ? It is true, that 
 when coming from Monza, he had boasted to the Count 
 of being his own master, and of being able to marry 
 without the interference of Marco ; but this was really 
 boasting, and now in cold blood he felt he could not 
 break with this man — Marco Visconti ! We are a little 
 acquainted with him, and he knew him better than we 
 do ; and putting on one side the dread which the ani- 
 mosity of a man of that temperament might reasonably 
 cause in the most intrepid soul, Ottorino could not bear 
 the thought of quarrelling with one who had always 
 loved him as a son, under whom he had entered military 
 life, by whose hands he had been admitted to knight- 
 hood ; with him, in short, whom he had always looked 
 upon as his example, his guide, the bright star that 
 shone on his path. 
 
 And there was another reason also ; if the youth had 
 decided to take a high tone, to cross the bar, so to speak, 
 and carry off Beatrice, without regarding wind or tide, 
 then the Count would have refused her to him : he had 
 said only too clearly that he would do nothing to break 
 with Marco, and if he had not said so it might easily 
 have been said for him. 
 
 Ottorino, torn by so many contending thoughts, be- 
 came agitated and melancholy, and his depression could 
 not fail sooner or later to be remai'ked by Ermelinda and 
 her daughter, with whom he was accustomed to pass a 
 great part of his time. They began to urge him to tell 
 them the cause of his new trouble, and he tried to parry 
 their solicitude, citlier by silence or by turning the con-
 
 MARCO YISCONTI. 161 
 
 vorsation, till at last they both began to suspect some- 
 thing serious. 
 
 And the maiden's father — the Count del Balzo ? Poor 
 man ! quite intoxicated with his triumphs, with the 
 compliments which he constantly received, with the 
 respectful treatment he met with on all sides, as an inti- 
 mate friend of Marco, he scarcely now remembered he 
 possessed a wife and daughter ; he seemed to think him- 
 self above all earthly ties ; and woe to Ermelinda if she 
 attempted to draw him from his proud heights, to recall 
 him for a moment to some affair down below ; woe to 
 her if she spoke of Beatrice, of the nuptial arrangements 
 that did not proceed, of the suspicions she had conceived 
 from the behaviour of Ottorino, why he flew at once into 
 a passion : " What a fuss you are making ! Let things 
 go on quietly — is not everything smooth ? what difficulty 
 can arise ? they will be betrothed when he returns. One 
 would think you wanted to get rid of her ! " 
 
 Ottorino, after some days, began to show signs of a 
 desire to hasten the marriage as much as possible, in- 
 sinuating at the same time the need of keeping it secret, 
 and at last driven into a comer by Ermelinda, who was 
 determined to come to the bottom of the matter, he 
 owned something of his fears as to Marco, as much as 
 to say that perhaps it might displease him to announce 
 it openly at once, so as not to appear to have broken 
 with the Rusconi. This might be the state of the case, 
 but, however, the lady did not feel at ease, for, in her 
 opinion, this scruple would not be sufficient to agitate 
 the youth in the way it apparently did. So she per- 
 sisted in her inquiries, till at last he told her everything 
 as it really was, or, to speak more correctly, as he thought 
 it was ; and it may be imagined how uneasy and alarmed 
 Ermelinda became. 
 
 After this, whenever the loving mother found herself 
 alone with her daughter, and saw her silent and sad, she 
 guessed that her reticence was fretting Beatrice's heart 
 — but what could she tell her ? — that she must tliink no 
 more of the marriage ? that she must forget Ottorino ? 
 She did not really think that it had come to this pass ; 
 
 M
 
 162 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 and tlien slie well nnderstood it would be too late, that 
 a flame was kindled in Beatrice's heart which could not 
 now be extinguished ! A flame which would consume 
 away her life ! 
 
 She thought it, therefore, her best course to tell her 
 everything. Ottorino, often in frequent private conver- 
 sations with the ladies, tried to cheer them with fallacious 
 hopes. "Marco," he said, "is soon going to Tuscany; 
 he is sure to stay there a long time ; new scenes, and 
 the new concerns in which he will be involved, will dissi- 
 pate all these vexations. He will see clearly that this is 
 only an impediment to be easily surmounted, a momen- 
 tary caprice ; it is just like the man ; but when Beatrice 
 is mine, everything will arrange itself for the best, you 
 will see. One thing arises from another ; time makes 
 great changes. What may happen before he returns — 
 who can tell ? Perhaps it may no longer matter to 
 him to break with the Rusconi, or that the Rusconi may 
 feel it concerns them too much to keep friends with the 
 Visconti, to make wry faces over a castle in the air ; 
 because, as I have often said, it is not only that I have 
 never given my word, but Marco himself never entered 
 into any engagement. And then the devotion with which 
 I have followed him, the fidelity I have shown to him, 
 he is too noble to forget such services as these." 
 
 Beatrice's mind seemed set at rest by these and other 
 reasons, but the mother felt uneasy and harassed. 
 
 And it was another trouble to think that if the Count 
 ever found out Marco's opposition, everything would be 
 put a stop to ; rather than risk displeasing that august 
 person, he would instantly break the compact, so they 
 must all keep quiet ; and with the understanding that 
 the marriage should take place so soon as Marco 
 should have departed for Tuscany, things went on 
 quietly till the day when a squire of the Visconti came 
 to the house of Balzo, to invite on his lord's part the 
 father and daughter to the feast, of which we made men- 
 tion befoi'C. Ottorino was quite comforted, and though 
 he was annoyed at seeing himself excluded, he combated 
 all the reasons Ermelinda brought forward to prevent
 
 MAKCO VISCONTI. 163 
 
 her husband taking their daughter, and all the reasons 
 uro'ed by Beatrice herself for not going there, as soon as 
 it was understood that she also was invited. 
 
 On the evening of the feast the Count paraded about 
 a saloon in his own house, in a robe of flowered velvet, 
 made for the occasion, and a pair of shoes with the points 
 much longer than the feet, turned up, and fastened with 
 a chain of gold which passed under the knee ; he strutted 
 like a peacock with pride at seeing himself so gay. A 
 sister of his, who was to accompany Beatrice instead of 
 her mother, was seated by Ermelinda, impatiently waiting 
 for her niece, who was delaying under some pretext or 
 other, and at last pretending that her silver wreath hurt 
 her head, was having it arranged by Lauretta. 
 
 A secret terror filled the girl's soul as the time ap- 
 proached for appearing before Marco, now that she 
 knew that Ottorino had fallen under his displeasure ; 
 she trembled at the mere imagination of being with this 
 man, of sustaining his piercing glance, and needed to 
 borrow a little courage from the presence and words of 
 the young knight, for whose sake principally she foi'ced 
 herself to bear this ordeal, but he did not appear ; and 
 what was more strange had not been seen all day. 
 
 When the wreath was arranged, the aunt rose up, and 
 taking Beatrice's hand, who knew not how to excuse her- 
 self from accompanying her, was departing with her and 
 the Count, and had arrived at the door of the hall, when 
 Ottorino suddenly appeared in great haste and trouble,, 
 crying out, " Only imagine ! Lupo has been seized by 
 the satellites of the Abbot of San Ambrogio ,- seized by 
 night, treacherously, while he slept ; they have con- 
 demned him to death, and to-morrow morning will b& 
 his last 1 " 
 
 Lauretta, on hearing to what a state her beloved 
 brother was reduced, rushed off in agonies of terror to. 
 tell her parents ; all the others remained as if bewitched.. 
 
 " I have implored, I have promised, I have threatened,"' 
 pursued Ottorino, " but all in vain. The Abbot must b© 
 certain of the consent of Marco, or he would never h ivfe 
 dared to lay hands on a squire of mine."
 
 1G4 MARCO YTSCONTI. 
 
 " Listen, Ottorino," said the Count, stammering in 
 his agitation : " I told you how it would be, but you 
 would act in your own way." 
 
 But the ladies, both at once, interrupted him ; for they 
 felt time must not be lost in useless recrimination, if they 
 were to find some remedy for this trouble. 
 
 " Why do you not go at once to Marco ?" he said at 
 last to Ottorino. " The alfront has been put upon you ; 
 you are bound to him by ties of blood and friendship." 
 
 " I have been to his house, but he refuses to receive 
 me." 
 
 " What ? What do you say ? Marco will not listen 
 to you ! " 
 
 Ottorino in his agitation, forgetting other considera- 
 tions, told how affairs had been going on, and how 
 Marco, for some time, had not been willing to see him. 
 
 " Then you are in disgrace with the Visconti ! " ex- 
 claimed the father of Beatrice. " Ah, now I understand 
 what Ermelinda was muttering to me about a little time 
 ago ! that I must not let Marco know anything about the 
 wedding being settled, nor speak of you to him. This 
 is the key of the mystery, and I was told nothing about 
 it. Well, well, if it is, I cry off, I wash my hands of the 
 whole affair." 
 
 " And will you let the son of one of your retainers die, 
 without saying a word to save his life ? that life which 
 he has voluntarily exposed for his country and for you ? " 
 said Ermelinda. 
 
 " Good heavens ! don't you see I am already in the 
 Abbot's black books ? And then what claim have I ? 
 what influence with Marco, that I could take so much 
 upon myself ? " 
 
 But here the Count's sister came to the aid of the 
 supplicants. " What," she said, " are you not the most 
 intimate friend Marco has ? his nearest confidant ? 
 Have you not told me so yourself many times ? and is 
 not this an affair known to everybody ? and will you 
 draw back when it is a question of saving one of your 
 retainers ? " 
 
 " But how can I ? "
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 165 
 
 " You can and ought to do it," persisted tte sister. 
 
 " Look here," urged Ottorino, " the night when Marco 
 is taking leave of his friends, in the midst of festive 
 gaiety, he cannot refuse the first favour asked of him — 
 he has a humane heart. Tell him that this is a brave 
 fellow condemned for having saved his countrymen, for 
 having snatched innocent people from the claws of a 
 savage rabble ; remind him that this is a soldier, who 
 has fought under the banner of the Visconti serpent, 
 and has stained it with his blood ; that he must not let 
 a valiant man die the death of a malefactor ; that Lupo 
 has a father and a mother." 
 
 Here Count del Balzo looked towards the door, having 
 heard from that quarter the sound of groaning and weep- 
 ing, rapidly approaching ; soon after the door was flung 
 wide open, and there entered the falconer, Marianna, and 
 Lauretta, all in tears, as white as death, and overwhelmed 
 with misery and terror. Ambrose threw himself at his 
 master's feet, embraced his knees, and raising an almost 
 convulsed face, tried to pronounce some words, but only 
 succeeded in uttering a broken and inarticulate groan ; 
 you could see his pale lips tremble, and hear the convulsive 
 chattering of his teeth. All eyes were fixed on him ; 
 even his wife and daughter seemed almost as if they 
 suspended their own grief, to attend to his more awful 
 
 SOITOW. 
 
 " My son ! my son !" he exclaimed at last with diffi- 
 culty. " Oh, save my son ! " 
 
 The Count bent down to raise him from the ground ; 
 but he shook his head and waved him off. "No," he 
 cried, " leave me here to die ; I will not rise till you 
 have promised me to save him." 
 
 " I will do all that is in my power ; come, get up, 
 Ambrose, take courage : I promise you to use every en- 
 deavour ; come, you must calm yourself." 
 
 " Do you hear ? " said Marianna ; " the master has 
 promised you ; do be calm and trust in the Lord." 
 
 " You have promised me ? Oh, tell that man, in whose 
 hands Hes the fate of my Lupo, that man, who with a 
 word, can give him safe back to me, tell him to think of
 
 166 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 liis own father, whose favourite son he was. And, if the 
 Abbot will have satisfaction, I am here, the same flesh 
 and blood, I, who advised him, and the fault is mine : he 
 only obeyed his father." Just then catching sight of 
 Ottorino, who, in his first agitation had not been per- 
 ceived by him, he rose at once to his feet, and going to- 
 wards him with a gesture more resolute than respectful : 
 "It is for you to save him," he said — "for you, who 
 placed him in the straits he now is in." 
 
 " And do you think ? " said his wife, in a tone of re- 
 proof, " do you think this is the way to treat a gentleman 
 so good, who is doing everything for him, who is here 
 only for that purpose, indeed." 
 
 " Oh, may God bless you ! " burst forth Ambrose, 
 quite cheered, " forgive me ; pity a poor father who is 
 beside himself, and knows not what he says or does. 
 Away, I implore you, do not lose time — pray go, and 
 return to bring news which will give my life back 
 to me." 
 
 The Count dried his eyes and said to him : " Do not 
 doubt that I will do for you all that I would do for my 
 own son." He beckoned to Beatrice and his sister to 
 follow him, and set off. Then Lauretta, who had done 
 nothing else but cry and sob, ran to Beatrice while she 
 was leaving the hall, and pressed her hand, kissing it, 
 and bathing it with tears : she could not utter a word ; 
 but her entreaties were expressed by her eyes, her face, 
 and her whole attitude. 
 
 Outside the door, in a second hall, they found Bernardo, 
 the falconer's other son, standing there waiting for them, 
 as stiff as a post. 
 
 You must know that Marianna, who thought of this 
 her favourite son, more than of anything else in the 
 world, at the first announcement by Lauretta of the 
 fatal news had sprung to her feet. 
 
 " It is your place, Bernardo," she cried, " it is for 
 you, to run down to the master, you who can talk. We 
 are common people, but you can say the things as they 
 ought to be said." 
 
 The stupid fellow began to stammer out: "But how
 
 MAECO VISCONTI. 167 
 
 — tell me ? " but Ambrose rushed off dowB the staircase, 
 and his wife and daughter after him. 
 
 Now, during the time when the poor father, prostrate 
 at his master's knees, was supplicating him with woi'ds 
 that came from his heart, and to which every heart re- 
 sponded ; words which an orator might admire and re- 
 spectfully imitate ; the wife in her obstinate folly thought : 
 " Oh, goodness ! he is doing nothing but weep and la- 
 ment ! what good will that do ? I could speak better 
 than that, and if Bernardo was here, he would soon find 
 what to say ; " and so when leaving the first hall after 
 the others, she found him by the door, she was quite 
 comforted, and taking him by his arm: "Now you 
 speak," she urged, "for we do not know how to say any- 
 thing." 
 
 Then he placed himself in front of the Count, and in 
 the voice and cold, stiff manner of one who is reciting a 
 sermon learnt by heart, began : " Although Lupo — not- 
 withstanding that my brother has gone astray." But 
 his father catching him by his shoulder, gave him a 
 shake and called out : " Let him pass, for God's sake." 
 
 The master passed on unimpeded, and Bernardo re- 
 mained there in his place, looking like a fool, straight 
 against the wall, with his arms glued to his sides, gazing 
 after him with his mouth open.
 
 168 MAECO VISCONTI. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 T N the meantime the banqueting hall was resplendent 
 -^ with innumerable wax-tapers, the light of which was 
 reflected from the ornaments and min-ors on the walls, 
 and from the wreaths and jewels of the gay dancers. In 
 the midst of the sparkling scene, and the joyous sound 
 of musical instruments, Marco, gnawed by secret cares 
 and uneasy discontent, spent his time inwardly cursing 
 that foolish gaiety, which accorded so ill with the tone 
 of his feelings, and in which he was bound to appear to 
 share. From time to time he went off into a room 
 which opened into the hall, placed himself at a window, 
 and looked down into the co art-yard, to watch for the 
 arrival of Count del Balzo, straining his ears to try and 
 distinguish the noise of horses approaching ; but he 
 could hear nothing but the echo of the festive sounds, 
 which reached to a great distance. He was obliged to 
 return to his former post, and to go on looking at the 
 dancing, and to talk of the morrow's tournament, and 
 to receive the good wishes and compliments of his 
 friends on his journey into Tuscany. But his heart was 
 far away. 
 
 Wearied with the long waiting, he sometimes absented 
 himself from his guests, and shut himself into his private 
 rooms, forcing himself to remain there as long as pos- 
 sible, in the hope of finding, on his return to the hall, 
 the wished-for guests. At last he joined the noisy 
 talkers, to try and pass away the time, which seemed to 
 him never ending. 
 
 Two hours had been, perhaps, spent in this tormenting 
 manner, when the Count at last appeared with his 
 daughter and sister. Marco, who at that moment was
 
 MAECO VISCONTI. 169 
 
 at the other end of the hall, saw that the girl was pale, 
 and agitated ; and shuddered, overcome by mingled 
 emotions of pity and love. Daring the short time he 
 spent in crossing the hall to meet them, he felt at one 
 time that she appeared to him as an angel, and at another 
 as his bitterest foe ; he felt inclined at one moment to 
 prostrate himself at her feet — the next to assail her 
 with bitter words. But he did not allow his agitation 
 to become apparent. After the usual words of welcome, 
 the aunt took Beatrice by the hand, and led her into the 
 midst of a party of matrons and maidens, who saw with 
 mixed astonishment and envy the beauty of the girl, 
 enlianced by a certain native purity which she had 
 brought from her mountains ; a simple manner and 
 an ingenious grace, tempered now by her anxiety for 
 the life of a human creature, into a softer style of love- 
 liness. 
 
 Coujit del Balzo had remained alone in Marco's 
 company. Both wished to be together ; both wished to 
 begin a conversation, so as to lead up to a desired sub- 
 ject ; but neither spoke, hoping that the other would be 
 the first to break the ice, and say something which might 
 be applicable. 
 
 Marco had begun to walk up and down, and his com- 
 panion followed him, in the greatest perplexity ; he 
 prepared in his mind a hundred exordiums, and dis- 
 missed them again, and was constantly on the point of 
 opening his mouth, without bringing out a syllable. At 
 last he took courage, and said something about the 
 festivity ; but his auditor allowed the subject to drop at 
 once, so that Beatrice's father found that he had better 
 come to the point by the shortest road. So he took a 
 grand resolve, and began : 
 
 " Will you listen to me, Marco ? It may appear to 
 you, perhaps, that I am taking a liberty vpith you, but 
 your kindness emboldens me, and I — wish to ask a 
 favour of you." 
 
 " A favour of me ? " replied Marco, walking towards 
 the embrasure of a window, where the Count followed 
 him.
 
 170 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 These words were spoken in a tone of cold and sur- 
 prised haughtiness, so that the speech which his poor 
 friend had prepared died away in his mouth. 
 
 After Visconti had remained silent for a moment, as 
 if waiting for an answer to his proud question " of 
 me ?" an answer that did not come, he asked, with a 
 smile full of angry bitterness : 
 
 " Had you not better ask the same favour from 
 Rusconi ; he who must be so indebted to you, would, 
 perhaps, be more inclined to grant it ? " 
 
 Beatrice's father felt his blood freeze, and in great 
 embarrassment stammered out : 
 
 " What do you mean ? I am not aware of having 
 offended, any one ; and as to Rusconi, I hardly know 
 him ! " 
 
 " Oh, you may be sure that he will make himself 
 known to you," replied Marco. "Rusconi is not the 
 sort of man who will forget an obligation, or who cannot 
 reward services done him even by one who is unknown to 
 him." And, so saying, he moved as if he would go away. 
 
 But the other, pressing nearer : 
 
 " I beg you," he urged, " to explain yourself. What 
 do you mean ? I really do not know. Unless it is on 
 account of this boy — of Ottorino." 
 
 Marco, who wished to draw him on to explain himself 
 further, did not answer, l^nt continued to pretend to 
 raove off. 
 
 " Look here, I know nothing about it ; it is not my 
 fault," urged the Count, with still greater vehemence. 
 " The boy, it is true — I cannot deny it — let us say that 
 he did wish to marry my daughter ; bat I spoke very 
 openly to him, said I would not hear of displeasing you, 
 and that I never should be persuaded to give her to him, 
 unless fii-st " 
 
 Marco, who was becoming feverishly excited, could 
 not control his impatience, and interrupting this speech, 
 asked : 
 
 " But Beatrice, does she agree willingly to this mar- 
 riage ? " and waited for the reply with such a counte- 
 nance, that the Count turned cold.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 171 
 
 " Beatrice ? " he answered, hesitating. " Ton ask me 
 about her feelings. She woukl always accept whatever 
 bridegroom her parents proposed to her. The poor child 
 is as gentle and innocent as a dove, and she only cares 
 for her mother and me." 
 
 "Then," continued Visconti, "you think she will not 
 be unhappy if this marriage is stopped." 
 
 " Unhappy ? No, indeed ! She is not that kind of 
 girl. I know exactly what my daughter is made of, 
 and she has not a thought in the world for this man." 
 
 On hearing these blessed words, Marco was seized 
 with such joy and such universal charity, that he would 
 gladly have thrown his arms round the speaker's neck, 
 but he restrained himself, remembering that what had 
 not yet happened might still take place during his 
 absence in Tuscany, if he did not find a way of keeping 
 the youth away from Balzo's house ; and the surest 
 means was that already devised, of inspiring the girl's 
 father with a fright of some mysterious danger ever 
 hanging over his head ; whereupon, with an expression 
 not quite so stormy as at first, but still far from 
 exhibiting the present peaceful state of his feelings, he 
 answered : 
 
 " As this is the case, so far it is well for her and well 
 for you ; for I should have thought it a very serious 
 misfortune for you to be on bad terms with a nobleman 
 of the position and temper of Eusconi ; and also on my 
 own account, I confess I should regret to have to reckon 
 among my — among those who are against me, and with 
 whom I cannot be on good terms, a friend of my eai'ly 
 youth." And here, assuming a confidential tone, but 
 in a lordly style, as of one who lowers himself for a 
 moment to an equality with the person addressed, he 
 placed a hand on the Count's shoulder, and then added : 
 — " Perhaps you do not know that I have arranged 
 myself the engagement between Ottorino and the daugh- 
 ter of this Comese noble. Now the boy appears to 
 me to hesitate, and even to wish to draw back ; but 
 matters have now reached a point when it concerns my 
 own honour. Enough, if you agree with me, everything
 
 172 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 will be smooth, and Ottorino will not make any objection, 
 for be knows it will not suit bim to contend witb me." 
 
 " Ob you may be sure," said tbe Count, " tbat you 
 will not be annoyed by anything connected with me ; 
 and if I had known before how things were, I should 
 certainly not have allowed the youth to visit so freely at 
 my house on any consideration ; for your favour and my 
 own peace are worth more to me than all the gold in 
 the world." 
 
 " Well, we will forget the past and speak of it no more ; 
 but for the future " 
 
 " For the future, I give you my word tbat he shall 
 never cross my threshold, if the world was to fall to 
 pieces. You may be assured of it." 
 
 At this point Marco would willingly have dropped a 
 bint to the Count of the intentions he had about Bea- 
 trice, but he could not decide on doing so before himself 
 questioning the maiden ; for to obtain her through tbe 
 authority of her parent, without assuring himself of her 
 spontaneous predilection, seemed to his haughty and 
 impassioned spirit a worse alternative even than losing 
 her altogether. But having now brought his companion 
 to the desired point, he dismissed him by saying : 
 
 "Well, Count, that is enough, and I am very glad to 
 remain much better friends with you than I expected 
 before this conversation." Then be pressed his hand, 
 and going off into the centre of the ball, joined a group of 
 knights who bad collected round the newly arrived beauty. 
 
 The Count, without leaving his position in the window, 
 began to find grievous fault with his wife, his daughter, 
 and Ottorino for having involved him in such an unfor- 
 tunate alfair. 
 
 After he had digested a portion of bis rage, after his 
 great fears bad calmed down, and he was somewhat 
 comforted by thinking tbat the error was repaired, he 
 recalled Lupo, and the favour be was to have asked for 
 him from Marco. 
 
 He remembered Lupo, bis parents, his sister ; he re- 
 called their piteous words, their faces, their tears ; he 
 thought of the promise he had given, and felt strong
 
 MAECO VISCONTI. 173 
 
 remorse and shame ; but not even all these considera- 
 tions could make him hesitate as to what course he 
 should pursue. 
 
 The idea of speaking to Marco about a squire of Otto- 
 rino's, after that scarcely civil treatment — it would be 
 ridiculous, he thought to himself. " No, no, that would 
 not suit me at all ; Lupo and all his people must fare as 
 they can, but I cannot mix myself up in it for any one's 
 sake. There will be a great lamentation at home. Erme- 
 linda and Beatrice will cry out. Let them do as they 
 please ! I will cry louder than they. I'll let them know 
 that I am not a man to bear with arrogance and dicta- 
 tion." Occupied with these fancies, he managed to work 
 himself into a great rage ; and then leaving the hole 
 where he had been hidden so long, he showed himself in 
 the hall with a very morose countenance. 
 
 Beatrice, from where she was, had seen her father in 
 prolonged colloquy with Marco, had imagined that they 
 were speaking of Lupo, and waited breathlessly to hear 
 the result. When Visconti, moving away at last, had 
 returned to the company, she turned on him by stealth 
 a timid and anxious glance, to try and read on his face 
 the fate of her protege ; but not being able to make out 
 anything, she awaited her father's arrival. After a con- 
 siderable interval he appeared, looking in the way we 
 have described ; and as it appeared to the damsel that 
 his face bore a verdict of condemnation, she was very 
 much troubled. 
 
 "And what did he say to you? " she asked him, as 
 soon as he approached. 
 
 " About what ? " 
 
 " Why, of course, about a reprieve for Lupo, which 
 you begged of him." 
 
 " Reprieve ! I have asked for no reprieve ! " 
 
 " Oh, holy Virgin ! has he then refused you ? Did he 
 say no ? " 
 
 " He has neither said no nor yes ; it's not my business, 
 nor yours. Do you understand ? and you must hold 
 your tongue, do you hear ? for with your prating you 
 have nearly ruined us all."
 
 174 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 " But have you changed your mind ? " 
 
 " Yes, because I know something now, which I did 
 not know before." 
 
 " But is it really so ? Is there no hope ? Must he 
 die ? " 
 
 " Tes, be quiet, I tell you, silly girl, and don't make a 
 scene." 
 
 " Look here, I will speak to him, I will throw myself 
 on my knees to him, and beg him so much " 
 
 " You, too ! that is the only thing wanting to " 
 
 " But why not ? only tell me." 
 
 " I have told you quite enough ; take care, and attend 
 to your own concerns." 
 
 With these words the Count disappeared among the 
 company, and his daughter remained so stunned by his 
 words that she felt she must be in a dream. 
 
 Marco, who, in the meantime, had never taken his eyes 
 off her, on seeing her father leave her, approached the 
 seat where she was, and asked her, after obtaining her 
 aunt's permission, to do him the honour of taking a turn 
 with him round the festal hall, and he would then point 
 her out the knights who were to be the managers of the 
 tourney. 
 
 Beatrice, who wished much to have an opportunity of 
 pleading for Lupo, w^ith her aunt's permission, accepted 
 the hand offered gallantly by Marco, and departed in his 
 company. 
 
 " The champions are, as you know, to be twelve," said 
 Visconti to the damsel, leading her down the hall ; 
 " eleven I can show you, for they are all here, but the 
 twelfth you will not find in this room ; but I am aware 
 it is not necessary for me to point him out to you, for 
 you are already acquainted with him, are you not ? " 
 
 Beatrice blushed deeply, but said nothing. 
 
 " I saw you salute him very kindly a few days ago, 
 when we were passing together before your house ; and 
 also I know he was at Limonta for a long time, and that 
 
 "Yes, I know him," said the maiden, bending her 
 head down shyly ; " and he has a squire for whom "
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 175 
 
 " We will not speak of his squire, if you please," 
 interrupted Marco ; "let us speak a little of him him- 
 self." 
 
 At this point, the girl, who, following her guide, had 
 now arrived in a long room, next the last of the halls 
 where the feast was held, turned round and saw her 
 father putting his finger on his lips, with the intention 
 of reminding her to be silent and careful. This only 
 increased the embarrassment and fear of the poor child, 
 already frightened to death at finding herself alone with 
 the man, of whom she had heard so much said, and now 
 after hearing words which revealed to her the jealous 
 secret of his heart, to know that she was about to be his 
 petitioner for so important an object ! Summoning there- 
 fore all her maidenly courage, which had never been 
 needed at a more difficult crisis, she began in a tremu- 
 lous and imploring voice : 
 
 " My lord, may I hope that you will listen to my 
 humble and earnest petition ? " 
 
 " Did you not accept me as your knight and vassal ? " 
 replied Marco ; "so you must not use such language to 
 me. You have not to offer a petition, but merely to 
 signify your will." 
 
 There was a few moments' silence, and during that 
 time they were passing through three or four other 
 smaller saloons, and had arrived in a room apart, out of 
 sight of the guests at the banquet. The girl, entirely 
 occupied with what she was about to ask Visconti, and 
 he, engrossed by his absorbing passion, were far from 
 thinking of what there might be strange and unseemly 
 in withdrawing in this way from the party, and may 
 indeed be said to have been entirely unaware of it. 
 
 When Beatrice found herself in tliat solitary place, 
 she looked round, at first a little confused, but the 
 moment after she fell down on her knees, before her 
 companion, and said, sobbing : 
 
 " One word from you can save him : have pity on a 
 miserable family: oh, if I could weep in the way. his 
 poor father wept just now ! if Grod would put his words 
 into my mouth, I am sure you could deny me nothing."
 
 176 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 Slie spoke in tlais manner, believing that her father, 
 according to his intention, had informed Visconti of 
 everything ; but he, who knew nothing, hearing himself 
 now addressed with such fervour, and not guessing the 
 subject, at first was quite stupefied, and then giving way 
 successively to compassion, love, and the confusion of 
 seeing in such a servile attitude the queen of his 
 thoughts, forgot everything else, and bent down to raise 
 her up, saying to her with agitation : 
 
 " What are you doing ? No, I will not have it ! you 
 must i-ise ! you of all creatures shall not prostrate your- 
 self before a human being." 
 
 She, however, would not leave her position, and con- 
 tinued to implore him, joining her hands, and raising 
 them to him with tearful eyes, in such an attitude, that 
 it appeared to Visconti at that moment, to see in the 
 girl before him her own mother, who in the same way 
 had thrown herself on her knees to him, in earnest en- 
 treaty, so many years before, that night when he had 
 come to carry her off from her paternal home. He felt 
 almost beside himself ; raised by force the supplicant, 
 made her sit down on a couch, and while Beatrice, 
 covering her face with both her hands, wept immode- 
 rately, with grief, shame, and confusion, so that the 
 tears gushed out between her white fingers, he, without 
 daring to approach her, continued : 
 
 " Oh ! tell me your wish, and I swear to you, as my 
 hope of eternal salvation is dear to me, that I will do all 
 that in me lies to content you ; all ! if it concerns the 
 State ; my life, my honour. Tell me, then, release me 
 from these torments ; tell me who it is, that I can 
 save ! " 
 
 " Lupo," answered the girl, between her sobs. 
 
 " Who ? That vassal of the monastery of San Am- 
 brogio, who is condemned to die ? " 
 
 " Tes, he is the son of my father's falconer, and 
 brother to my own beloved attendant — oh, if you had 
 seen their grief ! " 
 
 " Now pray do not weep any more : Lupo is safe, I 
 give him to you. I wish I could redeem each one of
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 177 
 
 yoxir tears with a drop of my blood ! There, Ermelinda, 
 Ermehnda ! jou madden me ; Beatrice, do not weep, 
 Lupo shall not die." 
 
 " You have said that he shall live ? " 
 
 " Yes, and I swear it on my soni." 
 
 At these words the girl sprang quickly to her feet, 
 and flying towards the deliverer, attempted again to 
 throw herself on the ground to thank him ; but she was 
 not able to do so, for he caught hold of her and pre- 
 vented her, forcibly, and she, confused, excited, and. 
 exhausted, by the sudden relief, let herself fall into his 
 arms. Marco felt himself tremble beneath that beloved 
 burden, the hot tears of the beautiful girl fell on his, 
 hand, and her tender bosom beat against his agitated 
 breast ; quite beside himself, he bent for a moment over 
 that fair head, and kissed it. Beatrice was aware of the 
 kiss, but was not more disturbed than if it had been a 
 kiss from her father ; she raised herself calmly, and 
 while her eyes were still red and wet with tears, there 
 appeared on her face a smile expressing her new glad- 
 ness ; in the same way as the sunlight appears after rain 
 lovely and welcome among the thin clouds in a breezy 
 spring sky. 
 
 The hero was in the hands of a child. Marco went 
 to a table, and, without sitting down, wi'ote a few sen- 
 tences to the Abbot of San Ambrogio in mingled terms of 
 entreaty, command, and threats, to desire him at once to 
 set at liberty the same Lupo, of whom they had spoken 
 some days before. He fastened the letter with a silken 
 riband, on which he placed his seal, wrote the address, 
 and, giving it to Beatrice : 
 
 " Let the Abbot have it," he said, " and Lupo will be 
 restored to you." 
 
 " God will reward you for the innocent blood which 
 you have spared," said the damsel — " the many tears 
 which you have dried ; the whole family will pray for 
 you always, always ; " and she turned to the door to go 
 away. 
 
 " Beatrice ! " said Marco, and signed to her to stop ; 
 " I ask you to give me one more moment : you will have
 
 178 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 time to send the letter before to-morrow morning. 
 Listen : I am to depart tliis night for a long journey, 
 but the memory of this moment — your memory, Bea- 
 trice — believe that it is for ever enshrined in my 
 heart." 
 
 "And I shall not forget the kindness you have done 
 me ; I will pray for you also. And to think that I was 
 so afraid to speak to you before. My mother told me 
 that you had a good and generous heart." 
 
 " Then your mother does not hate me ? then she has 
 forgiven me ? and you, Beatrice, do you forgive me 
 also ? will you not hate me ? " 
 
 "I ? what can you mean ? my gratitude, my respect : " 
 
 " That is not enough for me, and it is not what I 
 require of you," exclaimed Visconti, taking her hand 
 between his own, which trembled as a leaf. " Why 
 should I dissimulate longer ? Do you know, Beatrice, 
 that from the moment I saw you, my destiny was fixed 
 unchangeably ? I am waiting now, with panting eager- 
 ness, for a word of life or death from your mouth." 
 
 The girl trembled in her turn, and attempted to leave 
 him. But Visconti, interrupting himself in the middle 
 of his speech, as if suddenly struck by a new idea, which 
 had just flashed into his mind, unclosed his hands, so 
 that Beatrice could withdraw hers ; and quite changed 
 in expression by this thought, after a moment's silence, 
 he questioned her in a stern tone : 
 
 " Tell me, this Lupo is a squire of the person of whom 
 you spoke to me just now ? " 
 
 " Yes, he is his squire." 
 
 " His ?— whose ? " 
 
 " His ; your cousin's ; that knight," answered the 
 maiden, who could not venture to pronounce his name. 
 
 " Tell me — whose ?" he asked her, fiercely. 
 
 " Ottorino's," said Beatrice, becoming suddenly as red 
 as fire. 
 
 " Now ; answer me as you would answer your con- 
 fessor at the point of death," continued Marco, in a deep 
 but trembling voice. " Is it to please him that you come 
 to ask me for Lupo's life ? "
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 179 
 
 " It was my father who was to speak for him." 
 
 " That is not what I ask. Tell me from your own 
 soul, if it was he who induced you to take this step." 
 
 " Yes — at least, he begged my father, because, being 
 in disgrace, he did not venture." 
 
 " Ah ! you know all his secrets ! And when did you 
 see him ? " 
 
 "A few minutes before coming to your house." 
 
 " And you see him every day — do you not ? and the 
 promise which you have given him — tell me — -did it 
 come from your heart ? are you in love with him ? tell 
 me, in Grod's name." 
 
 Beatrice was silent with terror. 
 
 " You do not deny it, then ? " 
 
 "No, I do not deny it," uttered the girl, faintly. 
 " He — is to be my husband." 
 
 " Death and damnation ! " burst forth Marco, with a 
 voice of compressed thunder, and snatching, so to speak, 
 from Beatrice's hands, the letter, he fell upon it furiously, 
 as if he was going to tear it in pieces. 
 
 The poor child felt her knees tremble, her eyes grow 
 dim, and fell in a dead faint on the floor. Visconti 
 stood gazing at her for a moment with a fierce and 
 malignant expression ; his right hand glided impercep- 
 tibly towards his dagger, but he withdi-ew it at once, 
 and placing the letter in the girdle of the swooning girl, 
 he went out precipitately down a secret staircase into an 
 inner courtyard. Feeling himself urged by an ii'repres- 
 sible impulse, almost amounting to madness, to move 
 about and rush into the open air, he jumped on a horse 
 that was standing at the door in readiness for his de- 
 parture that night, and galloped down the street imme- 
 diately before him, so fast that one only of the many 
 attendants who were to have escorted him was just 
 in time to scamper after him, and even then, unable to 
 overtake him, was obliged to follow at a respectful dis- 
 tance. Such was the temper of that mind, which at 
 the first outburst of passion, forgot both past and future, 
 and was entirely absorbed in the immediate present. 
 
 He set off as if flying from a pursuing enemy, but
 
 ISO MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 tliis enemy was seated on his own horse's croup, and 
 left liim neither peace nor breathing time. 
 
 As he sped on through the darkness, he seemed to 
 feel somewhat refreshed by the cool night breeze playing 
 on his face ; and continued to gallop on like one pos- 
 sessed, hearing no sound but the clatter of the horse's 
 hoofs and the whistle of the air which he was cleaving 
 so furiously, and which blew about his forehead ; his 
 locks all bathed in perspiration. 
 
 His noble courser, with loosened reins and flanks 
 covered with blood, rushed furiously along, now straight 
 on, now by short cuts, and seemed to devour the way in 
 his headlong course. Soon losing all traces of a beaten 
 track, it galloped away over cultivated fields, waste 
 lands and woods, clearing hedges and ditches, at the 
 nsk of breaking its rider's neck against a tree-trunk, or 
 of falling into holes or water-courses. The latter, who, 
 amidst the concussions and shocks he met with in his 
 impetu.ous and headlong career, felt that the physical 
 exertion kept at bay the bitter anguish of his mind, 
 never ceased to urge on his steed with voice and spurs, 
 which he kept savagely buried in its sides ; his mind 
 working all the time in a frenzy of excitement, with a 
 fierce and burning desire to lose himself, and to dis- 
 appear, horse and all, for ever from the world, till he 
 perceived that he was quite alone, his squire not having 
 been able to keep up with him. He heard the poor 
 animal, quite worn out with fatigue, groaning and 
 panting beneath his weight ; he saw it in the twilight, 
 covered with foam, all steaming with bleeding sides, 
 forcing from its open nostrils its thick and heated breath; 
 and, at last, he drew rein, and stopped in the wild soli- 
 tude, which he had at last reached. He raised his eyes 
 sorrowfully towards the sun, just beginning to rise, and 
 felt only irritated by the increasing daylight which re- 
 vealed his presence to the eyes of others as well as to 
 his own, feeling that darkness was more suitable to his 
 troubled mind ; which seemed to absorb everything into 
 itself under a mysterious sense of infinity and eternity, 
 in which it seemed to be lost.
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 181 
 
 But, as tlie day drew on, and his mind returned to 
 itself and to the stern and circumscribed reality of life, 
 it was fortunate that one thought presented itself to 
 dissipate that sad steriHty of mind, and to restore his 
 spirits ; the thought, I mean, that he had still something 
 left to do, namely, to obtain his revenge. 
 
 So, he urged on his horse again and pursued his way, 
 step by step, towards a church tower that appeared 
 above some trees a short way off ; and as he went on, 
 lie seemed to recognize the locality. Turning the corner 
 of a lane shaded by an avenue of willows, he stumbled 
 upon a country girl with a switch in her hand, who was 
 driving a cow before her, and humming a tune, and he 
 inquired whether the village before him was called 
 Rosate ; but the frightened child uttered a cry of fear, 
 and ran away into the fields. Marco pursued his journey 
 with his head sunk on his breast, until he saw through 
 the trees the towers of the castle of Rosate, which was 
 (as we know) one of his fiefs. He saw floating in the 
 wind the square pennon, the distinctive mark of a knight 
 banneret ; he saw the helmet, with its crest of a serpent 
 rampant, on the loftiest turret, and when he came to the 
 edge of the fosse that surrounded the battleraents, he 
 struck three blows with his sword hilt on the iron pom- 
 mel of his saddle, the drawbridge was let down, and he 
 entered the castle. 
 
 On entering the second courtyard, he met the warder, 
 who ran up to hold his stirrup. This was Pelagrua, the 
 steward of the monastery of San Ambrogio, who had 
 been expelled from Limonta, and whom Marco, as has 
 been said before, had placed here and made him his 
 warder. But before he had time to render him the above 
 service, Marco leapt from his horse, and threw him the 
 reins, enjoining him to tell no one of his arrival. 
 
 On observing the anxious looks and disordered person 
 of his master, and the pitiful condition of the horse, the 
 cunning fellow made many strange surmises, all, how- 
 ever, miles away from the truth.
 
 182 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 WHEN Beatrice recovered her senses, slie found her- 
 self on a bed in a strange room, and at once be- 
 sought a servant maid, who was by her side, to tell her 
 where her father was. As she spoke she saw him stand- 
 ing on her other side, so raising herself, and then springing 
 to her feet, she caught his arm, and said : 
 
 " Let us get away from here, let us go directly." 
 
 On their way home, the Count asked her the ex- 
 planation of all this disturbance ; but she hastened on 
 without answering, anxious to arrive in the safe asylum 
 of home. But afterwards, remembering Marco's letter, 
 she found it in her girdle, and took it out, and gave it 
 to her father, saying : 
 
 " Here it is ; oh, here it is ! " 
 
 " What's this ? " 
 
 " Lupo's pardon. A letter for the Abbot, written by 
 Marco." 
 
 " But — I do not understand — then he gave yon what 
 you asked ? but you asked nothing more ? you did not 
 allude to — Ottorino ? " 
 
 " He asked me himself about him." 
 
 " And what did you answer ? how did you behave ? 
 come, speak, have you lost your tongue ? " 
 
 " Oh, let me alone, I implore you. I will tell all — to 
 my mother." 
 
 " Well, your concealments won't succeed. Now, once 
 for all, remember what I tell you, you are never to see 
 that man again, never again." 
 
 Beatrice did not answer, and indeed did not under- 
 stand the importance of those words, being still too 
 bewildered to be grieved by them. 
 
 All the way the Count did nothing but storm and
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 183 
 
 rage, now alond, now muttering to himself ; bnt when 
 they arrived at their own door, he said to his daughter : 
 
 "Give me that paper;" she obeyed, and they 
 went in. 
 
 The parents of Lupo, with Ermelinda and Ottorino, 
 and the whole family were there waiting for them. 
 Hardly did they appear in the passage than every one 
 ran to meet them with lights ; but on seeing the expres- 
 sion on the faces of Beatrice and her father, the same 
 impression was received by all : they believed poor 
 Lupo was done for, so there was a general cry of 
 lamentation. 
 
 The Count, leaving his daughter, who threw herself 
 into her mother's arms, signed to Ottorino to follow 
 him, and when they reached a saloon on the ground- 
 floor, he put into his hand Marco's letter, and then 
 said: 
 
 " This is your squire's reprieve ; so go now, both of 
 you, in Grod's name ; but remember that neither of you 
 ever enters my house again ; " and so saying, he turned 
 round and hastened to lock himself into his own 
 room. 
 
 Ottorino looked at the paper, recognized the writing 
 and the seal of Marco, and the unexpected joy of seeing 
 this proof of his follower's safety so absorbed his mind, 
 that it almost prevented him at first from taking in the 
 full sense of the sudden and cruel intimation just made 
 to him. 
 
 He ran at once into a hall where all the others were 
 assembled, and raising on high the hand which held 
 Visconti's letter, he cried : 
 
 " Pardon ! pardon ! here is Marco's letter ! " 
 
 They all rushed to see, to touch that blessed sheet ; 
 they cried, they wept, they embraced each other. Lupo's 
 father insisted on having the paper in his hands, and 
 kissed it, and bathed it in his tears, and exhibited it in 
 turns to his wife, to Lauretta, and his other son. 
 
 " Now, quickly, to horse ! " cried Ottorino, " for time 
 presses." 
 
 Two steeds were soon prepared, one for him, the
 
 184 MAKCO VISCONTI. 
 
 other for the falconer, who insisted on accompanying 
 him ; and away they galloped towards Chiaravalle. 
 
 " Give me the letter," said the knight to Ambrose ; 
 "give it to me, and I will conceal it." 
 
 " Oh, let me have it," implored the father ; " see, I 
 have it in my bosom ; if I did not feel it, or hold it in 
 my hand, I should feel I had lost the very heart out of 
 m.y body." 
 
 On the road, as was natural, they spoke of nothing 
 but Lupo. He, in the meantime, was spending his 
 time walking up and down a small ground-floor room 
 in one of the towers of the Abbey of Chiaravalle, where 
 was a walnut-wood table, on which stood a lighted 
 lantern, a wooden crucifix hanging on one side of the 
 wall, and a prie dieu before it. Four soldiers stood 
 sentinel at the door, a fifth remained in the room with 
 the prisoner ; this fifth was Vinciguerra, one of those 
 who had accompanied Bellebuono on his last expedition 
 to Limonta, which we have described. 
 
 The condemned man had a firm step and a serene 
 countenance, and was just then conversing with Vinci- 
 guerra about the very deed that had got him into 
 trouble. 
 
 " Just see what a trick that old peasant played us," 
 said Vinciguerra. 
 
 " Come," replied Lupo, " don't let your tongue run 
 so fast." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean, that if we are to remain friends I don't 
 want to hear those brave people evil spoken of." 
 
 " Ah, you are all alike, you will do anything to stick 
 by each other ; there, you are a mountaineer, and that's 
 enough ! " 
 
 " Certainly — and I am proud of it ; better to be a 
 mountain sparrow-hawk than a marsh wild duck." 
 
 " Yes, I know ; you are from Limonta and I from 
 Chiai'avalle ; but after all we are about the same, both 
 vassals of the monastery ; what's the good of being so 
 stuck up ? " 
 
 " Vassal of the monastery — I know I am, for my sins ;
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 185 
 
 but I never did them any service. A nice idea, for- 
 sooth ! to be ordered about by a fellow with, a shaven 
 crown, and a holy-water-brush in his hand ! " 
 
 " Why, you don't think," said Vinciguerra, " that I 
 care for the cause we fight for. Do you remember the 
 days when we fought together under Marco Visconti ? " 
 
 " Long live Marco ! " exclaimed Lupo, fired by that 
 name, which was wont to make the heart of every Lom- 
 bard soldier quiver with pride. " That's the man for 
 me ! he always was first in performing prodigies in 
 action ; and then how freehanded and afi'able he was, 
 and so friendly with his men ; whenever there was any 
 booty every man had his share, and if we had to go 
 without, all suffered alike ; not like your fellows, who, 
 crammed and gorged to the eyes, call out to you from 
 the refectory, ' Forward ! forward ! ' And then what 
 fine enterprises ! like that last one at Limonta — a lot of 
 armed rabble, who sneak in by night to attack by stealth 
 poor unarmed people ; do you call that the trade of a 
 soldier ?" 
 
 " You are very right." 
 
 " Anyhow, if I had arrived in time to get those poor 
 wretches in trim, I can tell you it would have been 
 quite a different story, and would have cost you dear. 
 But I must not think of it — it excites me too much." 
 
 " Poor Lupo ! we have always been friends and com- 
 rades in arms ! and now see what I am obliged to do." 
 
 "Do your duty." 
 
 " Yes ; but believe me, having to mount guard over 
 you in here, knowing as I do where I have to conduct 
 you. I really cannot stand it." 
 
 " Never mind, wash it down with a glass of wine," 
 said the condemned man ; and pouring out two glasses 
 from a large flask, took one himself and handing the 
 other to his companion, said : " Here's to Marco's good 
 health ! " 
 
 " That is no traitor's toast," replied the sentinel, " for 
 Marco is a good friend to the monastery and cousin to 
 the Abbot — so that I can accept your challenge, and 
 give a good reason for it. Here's to Marco's health and
 
 186 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 yours too ! " Thus saying, eacli emptied his glass at a 
 draught. 
 
 " Did you drink my health, too ? " said the Limontese, 
 when he had finished. " I suppose you meant my soul's 
 health — for as to that of my body, situated as I am now, 
 there remains little to be done. See (looking out of 
 window), the sky is beginning to lighten — there is but 
 a short time to wait now. Is it not to be at an hour 
 after sunrise ? " 
 
 " My poor boy ! I fear It is." 
 
 "Listen," continued Lupo; "do we not become 
 soldiers to be killed when necessary ? "Well, then, to 
 die from the blow of an axe, that splits your head like 
 an apple, or from a lance-thrust that runs you through 
 like a frog — or, anyhow, if you die doing your duty, it 
 is all one, and I am to die for having done my duty. 
 However, to tell the truth, it is ivot all the same — the 
 more I try to soften it off, the more hard it seems. To 
 end one's days on three bits of wood, tied up like a cut- 
 throat, befoi'e all the rabble who rush to see you as if 
 you were a criminal hung, is not the same thing as 
 dying on the field of battle, astride on a noble charger, 
 dealing desperate blows right and left, with the braying 
 of trumpets in your eai'S, and the hope of victory in 
 your heart." 
 
 " That is just what I vras going to say," replied the 
 sentinel ; " in fact, as to dying, what does it matter to 
 m.e, whether I die to-day or to-morrow ? " 
 
 "And do you think," rejoined Lupo, "that I am not 
 of the same mind ? Why, I am quite prepared to accept 
 my fate ; we must take things as they come, and have 
 patience to resign ourselves to face death boldly when- 
 ever it pleases Grod to send it us." 
 
 Vinciguerra sighed, filled both glasses again, emptied 
 his own, and then made a sign to Lupo to do the 
 same. 
 
 " No, no," replied the condemned man, " I must retain 
 the little sense that God has vouchsafed me for my last 
 moments, so as to leave the world as a good Christian, 
 knowing what I am about."
 
 MARCO TISCOXTI. 187 
 
 " Do you wisli me to call back Father Athanasius, 
 whom you sent away a little while ago ? " 
 
 " Certainly not. I have already done all that is re- 
 quisite. Indeed, I would have kept him till now, but he 
 worried me so with his long stories, that — however, I 
 told him pretty plainly he had better take himself off out 
 of my sight." 
 
 " Oh ! but he only was here for the good of your soul, 
 to enable you to make your peace wdth God, and to get 
 you to repeat some prayers, as those kind of things are 
 proper to be done by one who is bound in your direction." 
 
 " Not exactly ; as long as he spoke to me about religion 
 I listened to him, but afterwards he got on the subject of 
 Bellebuono, and w^ould have it that that was a murder ; 
 whereas, if I had no other sin but that — never mind, I 
 told him plainly and clearly that I would do it again 
 without scruple." 
 
 " Oh, comrade, I must say I think the priest was 
 right." 
 
 " Then you are as great a numskull as the rest ; but 
 come, I'll give you a case in point." 
 
 " Let us hear it." 
 
 " Supposing," said Lupo, " I had got to Limonta an 
 hour eai4ier, and, through a false message sent to Belle- 
 buono, had enticed him and all the rest of you into a 
 mountain gorge, and had then fallen upon him with my 
 brave peasants, and had killed you all like rats in a 
 trap, should I have done a mortal sin ? am I obliged to 
 confess ? " 
 
 " No ; for that would be a stratagem of war." 
 
 "And was not what I did a stratagem of war, except 
 that, instead of killing all of you, I only kiUed one ? " 
 
 " What has that to do with it ? " 
 
 " Why, everything. Besides, does not the reason for 
 it count for something ? Had I not the right to kill 
 him, to defend so many of my poor countrymen, as well 
 as our priest, whom he was going to torture and put to 
 death for his own amusement ? " 
 
 " My dear fellow, a fine tale you have told me ; the 
 idea of a soldier wanting a reason for what he does ! "
 
 188 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 " I know that ; but what I said was by way of com- 
 parison, for this was not a case of legitimate warfare, 
 but an unprovoked attack of a lot of thieves and cut- 
 throats." 
 
 " Come, come ! gently a bit, with all these hard 
 names," replied Vinciguerra, brusquely. "I can tell 
 you I have always acted like a soldier, and never like a 
 thief or a cut-throat ; and if it were not that " 
 
 Lupo burst out laughing at this, and said, " Get away 
 with you, 3^ou silly fellow, are you going to quarrel with 
 me, a man who in half-an-hour will be in the other world ? 
 However, you have found your match, a man in the 
 death agony " 
 
 " What will you say next, I wonder ? " rejoined the 
 soldier, thoroughly nettled by Lupo's words, and the 
 coolness with which he spoke them. " I know that 
 with you — anyhow, we have always been friends ; but 
 — you understand there are certain limits — it cannot be 
 allowed." 
 
 " But, don't you see, I meant it merely as a compari- 
 son ? " 
 
 " Well, if that was all, there is no harm done." 
 
 " I want to part friends, don't you ? " replied Lupo, 
 offering him his hand. 
 
 " With all my heart," said the other, squeezing it 
 affectionately, and then added, " I grasp the hand of a 
 brave soldier and a good comrade," then turned aside to 
 hide his emotion, afterwards pouring out and drinking 
 off a glass of wine ; he raised his hand to his mouth, as 
 if to wipe his moustache, and then passed it twice or 
 thrice across his eyes to brush away a tear. 
 
 And now the sad tones of the passing-bell broke the 
 stillness of the chamber. For an instant Lupo seemed 
 unmanned ; but quickly recovering himself — 
 
 " I see," he said, " I have no time to lose. Listen, 
 Vinciguerra, I have something to tell you ; I wished to 
 ask the confessor about it, but he made me so angry 
 with all his nonsense. Yet it is better to entrust a thing 
 to a friend who knows one a little, and feels that we are 
 all human at the bottom, for if they were to see a soldier
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 1S9 
 
 — they might think it was through fear of death. Lis- 
 ten, however, I will explain myself in a very few words. 
 The first time you chance to go to Milan ask for the 
 house of Count Balzo, in the Brera del Guercio ; there 
 you will find my father and mother." Then, feeling 
 almost heart-broken at the mention of those sacred 
 names, he walked across the room, and, turning to 
 Vinciguerra, "You will not fail ? " he said. 
 
 " May God neither give me prosperity in this life, nor 
 repose in the next, if I fail to do your bidding," replied 
 the sentinel. 
 
 Then Lupo took a silver chain from his neck, and 
 handed it to him, saying : 
 
 " Tell them to wear it for my sake ; and tell my sister 
 to look in a chest of drawers in the chamber next the 
 falcons' mew, where she will find a small boxwood casket 
 containing a gold ring, which is a last relic of the plunder 
 from Tuscany ; I had reserved it for her against her 
 marriage, and now she must keep it as a memorial of 
 m.y affection." 
 
 "Listen," said Vinciguerra. "I am not a wealthy 
 man, but, thank God, I have a little pay left ; look 
 here," taking from his pocket a handful of large and 
 small coins. 
 
 " What do you wish me to do ? " 
 
 " You will be doing me a charity by accepting them, 
 as you will save me half-a-dozen drinking bouts. I 
 will take them to your father, who may be in want of 
 them. At all events, they will do him more good than 
 they can possibly do me." 
 "No, no ! thank you." 
 
 " Come, do me tins favour — vouchsafe me this con- 
 solation. I swear to you that I enjoy far more giving 
 away these few coins for love of you, than I should have 
 done had I got the share of the plunder from Limonta 
 promised me by that fellow — your man, I mean. I, too, 
 expected once to swing for my misdeeds, and I well 
 know how dear a man's family become to him at such a 
 time, especially his father and mother ; and how bitter 
 is the memory of the many troubles we have caused our
 
 190 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 parents ; and I well remember how sad I felt at not 
 having anything I could send them as a memento." 
 
 Lupo laid his hand on his shoulder, and said : " I feel 
 extremely your kind offer, and I know all we soldiers 
 give and take most generously ; but, thank God, my 
 parents have need of nothing. See, too, if I wished to 
 send them any, I have plenty of money here." And, so 
 saying, he emptied the pocket of his doublet, and turned 
 out on the table a good handful of money. " You have 
 sixty soldiers in your company, have you not ?" he asked. 
 
 " There were sixty of us, but we left eleven of them in 
 your beautiful Limonta country, in that choice expedition 
 of ours, so that, if my reckoning is right, we cannot now 
 be more than forty-nine." 
 
 Lupo raised his head, and a proud smile flashed across 
 his face at the mention of the prowess of his dear country- 
 men. " Well," he said, " I suppose those that are left 
 will have no objection to drink a toast bo the health of a 
 condemned criminal ? " 
 
 " Two, if you like," replied Vinciguerra, " but I will 
 not di'ink any of that wine ; my share shall go to pay for 
 masses to be said for your soul." 
 
 "But not by the monks of San Ambrogio, I hope," 
 said Lupo, " take care of that ! for I do not want to re- 
 ceive anything at the hands of those schismatic cowards. 
 By-the-bye, I forgot one thing : I have a brother, with, 
 whom I liave not got on very well, but when one is near 
 death one must put all that aside, if for no other reason, 
 for my mother's sake, whose favourite he is. I must send 
 something also to him. I have a small silver cruciKx 
 here, which I had vnshed to give to you as a memento, 
 and I hardly know how to arrange it between you." 
 
 " A brother of yours ? " said Vinciguerra. " Well, it 
 is easily managed ; I will take your crucifix, and give 
 you this reliquary to send to him — look at it ; " and, 
 unfastening his waistcoat, he exhibited it. " It is a 
 splinter of the column of St. Simeon Stylites ; I took it 
 with my own hands from a pilgrim on his return from 
 the Holy Land, whom I stripped one night in Romagna." 
 
 " Bravo ! " said Lupo," " I accept the exchange ; you
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 191 
 
 shall take it to him in my name, as I said; and you 
 shall have this." So, taking from his breast the Christ 
 in silver, he gave it to the soldier, and, throwing at the 
 same time his arms round his neck, he gave and received 
 a farewell kiss. 
 
 " Now that I have settled all my affairs here on earth," 
 continued the Limontese, " it is time that I should give 
 all my thoughts to my soul." And, going towards the 
 crucifix that hung on the wall, he knelt down before it 
 in prayer. 
 
 Vinciguerra, so as not to disturb him, retired to the 
 door, when he repeated to the four soldiers on guard 
 there what the prisoner had said, and showed them the 
 money which he had received from him to distribute 
 among his comrades, concluding with these words : " As 
 for my share, I have told him already that I shall spend 
 it in masses for his soul." "And add my share." " And 
 mine also." " And mine," cried they all. After which 
 they remained silently waiting for the sad moment, when 
 they would have to conduct the condemned man to the 
 gallows ; for they all dreaded to see such a sad end to a 
 young soldier, so valiant and handsome as Lupo : and 
 so, if they spoke at all, it was in very quiet voices ; a 
 circumstance less important for him, than worthy of 
 note from those rough fellows, accustomed to spend 
 their lives in nothing but in either suffering themselves 
 or in causing others to suffer. 
 
 The courtyard of the palace of the monastery, the 
 portico which surrounded it, and into which the room 
 opened where Lupo was confined, were quite full of 
 curious spectators ; idle folk, who, as is the case in all ages 
 and in all countries, hasten to look on at the last punish- 
 ment of a human creature, as if they were taking part 
 in some festivity or wild orgy : perhaps, from that secret 
 delight which is experienced, without a rational cause 
 that can possibly be alleged, from the contemplation of 
 human nature in the most awful moments of agony, 
 accustoming, as it were, the soul to hoiTor, studying 
 one's own possiljle fate in that of another's, and thus con- 
 sidering the mystery of life and death.
 
 192 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 The hour was already passed when the prisoner was 
 to have been brought to the gibbet, and the foolish 
 populace began to murmur at the delay. Vinciguerra, 
 who felt full of wrath at seeing this stupid and ferocious 
 impatience, revenged himself by using the butt of his 
 weapon on the arms and shoulders of the most forward, 
 under pretence of keeping the crowd away from the door. 
 
 At last a report arose which many voices repeated : 
 "They are coming! They are coming!" The people 
 began to push against each other, to surge to and fro, 
 and to raise themselves on their tip-toes, turning towards 
 the door of the courtyard, which opened on the road. 
 Vinciguerra ran back into the room to be at the post 
 assigned to him, and Lupo, hearing his step, rose up, 
 crossed himself, and with a calm expression on his face, 
 asked him : 
 
 " Is the time come ? " 
 
 At that moment the door opened, two out of the 
 four sentries came in, and behind them a monk with a 
 paper in his hand. Lupo perceived over the latter's 
 shoulder that another man was following, and, suspect- 
 ing whom he might be, cast down his eyes with an 
 involuntary shudder. But suddenly he felt an unex- 
 pected and close pressure ; and looking up, he found 
 himself in the arms of his father, who, straining him 
 to his breast, was too much agitated either to weep or 
 speak. 
 
 " You have made a mistake in coming to see me at 
 this hist moment," said Lupo, as soon as he could get in 
 a word ; " my thoughts were full of eternal life and the 
 Lord above, and you have done neither yourself nor me 
 a kindness." 
 
 Ambrose finding that his voice would not serve him, 
 made gestures of negation with head and hand ; and at 
 last, after a long effort, he littered these words between 
 his sobs : 
 
 " No ; you are not to die ! " 
 
 "Oh, yes, I must die ! " replied the son. "I grieve 
 for you all ; but for myself I have settled all my worldly 
 affairs."
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 193 
 
 While tlie falconer was embracing him still tighter, 
 and saying, " No, no, no," with movements of his head, 
 the monk came forward, and said to Lupo : 
 
 " Your father speaks the truth — the Abbot has re- 
 prieved you." 
 
 " A reprieve ! " shouted the guards in the room. " A 
 reprieve ! " re-echoed the sentinels, who had remained at 
 the door ; and this shout was repeated from one to 
 another under the colonnade, in the court-yard, and 
 through the street close to the palace, by the people who 
 were streaming along in crowds. 
 
 " Be thankful for the Abbot's mercy," said the monk 
 to the prisoner. 
 
 " We came here, Ottorino and I," said the falconer, 
 " with a letter from Marco Visconti to the Abbot to ask 
 for pardon for you." 
 
 "A letter from Marco!" cried Lupo. "Marco for 
 ever ! " and life seemed even more precious to him when 
 he received it as a gift from that lord. 
 
 "Long live Marco!" shouted out the sentinels. 
 " Marco for ever ! " was heard from all outside. 
 
 In the meantime a hundred different rumours were 
 current among the crowd. 
 
 "What's it all about?" "Marco Visconti has come 
 himself to release the condemned man, who is a relation 
 of his." " It is the other knight who brought the Vis- 
 conti's letter, and is his relation." " No, it is he himself 
 in person, and he has hereabouts a good many soldiers 
 belonging to him ; and the Abbot was obliged to give 
 way to him about the pardon." " I tell you that Marco 
 sent a letter to have the prisoner set at liberty." " That's 
 not true." " But Padre Bonaventura said so." " But 
 it can't be so ! " " Would you teach me ? " 
 
 All these disputes changed into one general acclama- 
 tion when the liberated man was seen to come out, hold- 
 ing his father's arm, who was quite stupefied with joy ; 
 and the exultation and glee of the whole crowd would 
 have done credit to the most humane assembly in our 
 softer times. 
 
 They were, however, the same persons who had hurried 

 
 194 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 SO sliort a time ago to see the poor fellow die, and who 
 were murmuring at the delay in the execution. The 
 very same ; and what can we say about it ? It was not 
 that they really were pleased at the idea of poor Lupo 
 being hung, for they did not know what he had done to 
 deserve his punishment ; they only wanted to be stirred 
 by something out of the way, and they had .obtained 
 their desire by other means. 
 
 After passing through the crowd, which the guards 
 could hardly keep back. Lupo and his father arrived in 
 the square of Chiaravalle. In front of the church they 
 found Ottorino, and close to him some peasants were 
 holding three horses by their reins. The young knight 
 threw his arms round the neck of his faithful follower, 
 and all the spectators clapped their hands and cheered. 
 In a moment they wei^e all three in their saddles. 
 
 " Are you not going to retui*n thanks to the Abbot ? " 
 said the monk to Lupo. 
 
 He glanced at his master, and observing that he made 
 a deprecatory sign and shrugged his shoulders at the 
 same time, as if to say, " Never mind that," he answered : 
 
 " I am in too great haste to wait now." 
 
 Vinciguerra, who had accompanied Lupo to this spot, 
 flung round his neck the silver chain, and took out of 
 his pocket the money he was to have distributed to his 
 comrades. 
 
 " Take this," he said ; " this belongs to you." 
 
 " Keep the money," answered the Limontese, " and 
 drink to my health this evening all together." 
 
 " With all my heart," replied the trooper ; " and this 
 time I promise to do you all honour myself. Oh, by- 
 the-bye, your silver crucifix, I forgot to give it to you 
 back." 
 
 " Keep it for yourself — keep it in remembrance of me," 
 replied Lupo, shaking his hand ; and now set off in 
 company with his father and Ottorino through the crowd, 
 which opened to let them pass. 
 
 When they had reached the centre of the square, and 
 were turning to the left to enter a narrow lane, Lupo saw 
 opposite him the gibbet which had been prepared for
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 195 
 
 him, and waving Ms hand to it, he said in a loud voice, 
 " Farewell, dear creature !" at which all the crowd began 
 to laugh. 
 
 Poor Ambrose could scarcely believe he really had his 
 son at his side safe and sound ; as if he must make sure 
 of it eveiy minute, he never took his eyes off him, hold- 
 ing him tight with one hand, and saying to him with a 
 face full of springing tears : 
 
 " You scapegrace ! you rash boy ! you have given me 
 enough frights ! now, do as I tell you. Leave off that 
 dreadful soldier's trade ; come back home, and live 
 quietly upon the good things God has given you, in 
 company with your mother. Poor thing ! how often 
 she has been lamenting that you were not her favourite ; 
 if you had seen the poor woman ! " 
 
 " Oh, I know ; I never for an instant doubted her love 
 for me." 
 
 " But I tell you she is as fond of you now as I am 
 myself ; Lauretta and your brother also, though he ap- 
 pears so cold." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I am so grateful to them all." 
 
 " So, will you decide to please your father in his old 
 
 age 
 
 " Don't let us talk of it now ; don't you see I must 
 consult my master ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; that is quite fair, for he has been so good 
 to you — if you knew what he has done for you, and so 
 willingly ; and the Count and Countess, too, and the 
 little lady, and indeed all. In my misery I had the 
 comfort of seeing and hearing all the good wishes of 
 every one to you." 
 
 Ottorino, who felt that in this first ebullition of pa- 
 te'.'nal and filial affection, the presence of a third person 
 was superfluous, rode on some paces in front, pi^etending 
 to attend to something else ; but after having allowed as 
 much time for the outpouring of their feelings as he 
 deemed only fair, he held back his horse, rejoined the 
 others, and checking the thanks they began to express, 
 he said to Lupo : 
 
 " We shall have to hurry on to be in time for the
 
 196 MAKCO YISCONTI. 
 
 tournanient. You know that this is the first day, and 
 you will like to be ray squire." 
 
 " Indeed I shall ; and, will you believe it ? I thought 
 of it so much at Chiaravalle ; and one reason why I did 
 not approve of the ceremony they were getting ready 
 for me, was that it robbed me of the pleasure of giving 
 you my services in the lists." 
 
 " Those polite monks wanted your services, but for 
 this once they had to give up their will ; and if you 
 could only have seen what a crabbed, frowning face the 
 Abbot made when he was reading Marco's letter ! He 
 wriggled just like a bat when it feels itself scorched with 
 brimstone ; and I can tell you it was a real pleasure to 
 see him forced to speak pleasantly when he was feeling 
 so bitterly." 
 
 " Indeed," said Lupo, " it has been a great kindness 
 and condescension beyond all measure of that chief — of 
 Marco Visconti." 
 
 " It was all for love of our master ! " broke in Am- 
 brose ; " for our master's sake, who went on purpose to 
 beg it of him, with the young lady." 
 
 "I shall always be grateful to the Count," answered 
 the youth, somewhat mortified at finding out that Marco 
 had not thought of liim out of his own head, which idea 
 had puifed him up a good deal ; " but, first of all, how- 
 ever, I must go and thank Marco." 
 
 " He departed last night for Tuscany," said Ottorino. 
 " Oh, I am so sorry ! I would have given anything for 
 the honour of kissing his glorious hand, and assuring 
 him that my life will be ever devoted to him." 
 
 Ambrose, on hearing these expressions of enthusiastic 
 gratitude to Marco, understood that his son was still of 
 the same mind, and that the warlike devil had not come 
 out of him, so bending his head down sadly, he said to 
 himself — " If the gallows could not cure him, I do not 
 know what will." 
 
 The son read that thought on his father's contracted 
 brow ; and it grieved him to have been betrayed into 
 Sciying anything displeasing to him at such a time, and 
 wishing to make up for it and to prove his filial love,
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 197 
 
 without toucMng on points where they could not agree, 
 or giving a promise which he had no intention of keep- 
 ing, he thought for a moment of what he could say most 
 affectionate and welcome ; and at last he asked him after 
 the falcons which he had left at Limonta. 
 
 Ottorino glanced at his squii-e in surprise at hearing a 
 question which seemed to him so out of place ; but the 
 father, who had never been able to interest Lupo in a 
 calling which absorbed his whole heart, and in which he 
 would gladly have brought him up, and who had never 
 before heard him voluntarily mention a falcon or a lure, 
 so irksome was the whole concern to him, on account of 
 the very efforts that had been made to recommend it to 
 him, felt strongly the delicate tenderness of the question, 
 and answered : " They are all quite well," and gave a 
 squeeze to his arm, with his eyes full of tears. 
 
 When they had arrived at Milan, the young knight 
 said to Lupo : " In a couple of hours you must be at the 
 lists, and you will find me there ; " so saying, he waved 
 his hand to his travelling companions, who answered by 
 bending to their saddle bows. 
 
 Lupo's welcome may be left to the imagination of the 
 reader. We will only say that his mother, for the first 
 time in her life, found fault with the behaviour of her 
 other son, Bernardo, who began to reproach him wit'i 
 his obstinacy in schism, meaning to infer that to that 
 was to be traced all the evil that had happened to him. 
 
 " Come, be quiet ! " she said to her pet, with some 
 
 irritation, " there will be plenty of time to say all that." 
 
 Lupo soon asked for news of the family. Beatrice 
 
 was laid up with an attack of fever. Ermelinda was 
 
 nursing her sick child. 
 
 " And the Count ? " 
 
 " He is shut up in his room, and does not wish to see 
 any one," replied a page. 
 
 " But I must return thanks to him," said the falconer's 
 son. 
 
 So mounting a staircase, he crossed five or six rooms, 
 and at last came to the door which led to the master's 
 quarters ; and all the rest followed behind, wishing to
 
 198 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 share in tlie gladness as they had done in the trouble. 
 He knocked softly ; and the Count, who had guessed 
 who it was, first from the noise in the courtyard, then 
 from the sound of footsteps and the voices he had heard 
 coming through the house, called out from within : 
 
 " Go away ; I don't want any one here." 
 
 " Count ! master ! your honour ! it is I, your servant 
 Lupo ; let me kiss your hand." 
 
 *' There, there, go away ; that will do," was answered 
 from within. 
 
 " I know that you went yourself to obtain from Marco 
 the promise of my safety ; pray, let me in." 
 
 " Open the door, we implore you ! " cried Ambrose. 
 
 "Open the door," repeated Marianna, "so that we 
 may embrace your knees ! Let us have that pleasure." 
 
 " Open the door ! " they all cried at once. " Long live 
 the Count del Balzo, our master! " 
 
 He was at last conquered by so many entreaties, and 
 opened the door a very little ; then peered out through 
 this small opening, with a face half frightened and half 
 triumphant, which had a most ludicrous effect. Then 
 they all threw themselves at his feet, kissed his hands, 
 thanked him, and wept; but after he had enjoyed his 
 ovation for a few moments, he said to Lupo, withdrawing 
 his hands : 
 
 " That's enough ; I am glad to see you safe and sound. 
 Now, go away, and take my blessing with you ; but re- 
 member, never to put your foot again in my house." 
 Then turning to the falconer : " And you, if he does not 
 change his habits, bid him recollect that he has had a 
 very narrow escape of the gallows." 
 
 So saying, he drew in his head, and shut himself into 
 his room, leaving them all stupefied and bewildered. 
 
 Lupo, not knowing what to make of it, went off to 
 array himself in his armour, and having taken a tender 
 farewell of his parents, he was on his way to fetch his 
 horse to betake himself to the lists, when, in a comer of 
 a passage, he came across his sister Lauretta, who, put- 
 ting her finger to her mouth, said in a low voice : 
 
 "You must salute Ottorino in the name of my mistress,
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 199 
 
 Beatrice ; and teli liim to bear himself bravely in the 
 lists for her sake, and she hopes that absence will not 
 cause him to forget her." 
 
 " Absence ! What do you mean ? Ottorino is not 
 going away, as far as I know." 
 
 " No ; but he is forbidden by the Count ever to come 
 to this house again." 
 
 " But why ? what's the reason ? " 
 
 At that moment there were footsteps heard. Lauretta, 
 again putting her finger on her lips, hurried away on 
 tip-toe to hide herself in a room close by ; and her 
 brother went off on his own business.
 
 200 MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 LUPO, on his way to the monastery of San Simpli- 
 ciano, close to which the lists were erected, made 
 his way out of the town by the postern gate of Algiso, 
 now called the Ponte Beatrice. 
 
 The inhabitants were hastening from all quarters to 
 enjoy the pleasures of a spectacle so welcome at that 
 time. There was a constant succession of men, women, 
 and children, all dressed in their smartest clothes. You 
 might distinguish among the crowd the wool-staplers, 
 by a white hat and a kind of switch, which they carried. 
 You might discern the master armourers, of whom, in 
 Milan alone, there were more than ten thousand, by an 
 apron of skins of various colours, according as the arti- 
 ficer was a maker of cuirasses, or swords, shields, helmets, 
 or spurs. Among the workmen in the same trade, or 
 school, as they expressed themselves in Milan, you might 
 tell the journeymen from the masters, and these again 
 from the superintendents, the minor ofl&cials, the consuls, 
 the abbots. 
 
 The knights might be distinguished by their short, 
 silken cloaks, their velvet hoods, their large sleeves 
 turned-up, their scarlet upper garments (long womanish 
 gowns, fastened by a girdle), and ladies by their neck- 
 laces, ornaments, crowns of pearls or precious stones ; 
 their peHsses of sable, minever, or marten fur — finery 
 and ornaments forbidden to plebeians and to rich artisans, 
 who were obliged to content themselves with fustian, 
 wool, or mixed stuffs ; with skins of lamb, rabbit, fox, 
 and other common animals, and were not allowed to 
 wear floating garments, or clasps, or buttons, unless 
 made of bone, brass, steel, or such like common metals. 
 So contrary was the sjiirit of that age to ours ; then, as
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 201 
 
 infinite trouble was taken to divide ranks as now to 
 equalize them. 
 
 When our squire arrived in front of the Church of 
 San Simpliciano, which was at that time, as is well- 
 known to the inhabitants of Milan, some way out of the 
 enclosed part of the city, he saw the people stopping to 
 look at several sliields which were hanging there. 
 
 It was the custom to expose on some church or some 
 cloister in the neighbourhood of the lists, the insignia of 
 the knights who were to tilt there, because this practice 
 afforded facility to all to recognize those who bore them 
 on the day of the trial ; and because, if there was any 
 notice to affix to any of those about to fight, if any lady 
 or damsel had a claim of honour to make, it could be 
 notified in time to the judges of the tourney, who would 
 exclude the accused if the proofs were deemed sufficient, 
 and the case serious enough to deserve that penalty. 
 
 Our Lupo, after he had glanced at a shield quartered 
 with red and white, with a viper in the midst, which 
 was Ottorino's property, went on his way ; and every 
 step he took, the crowd and commotion increased. 
 
 Here a minstrel sang to the notes of his cithern ; there 
 a buffoon showed off his dogs and monkeys to the sound 
 of a pipe or drum ; further on a mountebank sold relics 
 and charms against fever, praising the miraculous virtues 
 of the herbs of San Paolo and Santa Apollonia ; on all 
 sides were to be seen tents, in which were going on 
 games of dice and other special games of that age, called 
 " polveretta " and "coreggiola" — games, which though 
 forbidden by law, were practised every day by cheats, to 
 entrap foolish people. Everywhere were to be seen 
 booths, and sheds, and shops, under which was sold 
 flesh of rams and wild boar, garnished in various ways — 
 wheaten, rye, and barley bread ; malmsey and white 
 grape wine, and other kinds of liquor and food. 
 
 On the left of the lists there was a large square, where 
 were the war horses and those for the tourney ; and then 
 were to be heard the shouts of the grooms, who made 
 them gallop, and caracole, and leap within. Close by, 
 two smaller spaces., divided into many enclosures, wex'e
 
 202 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 given up to the market of dogs and falcons. Here the 
 yelps and screams of the animals mingled with the 
 voices of the sellers, who were enlarging on the value of 
 their merchandise. 
 
 " A pair of bloodhounds from Tartary, of the true 
 breed, imported into France by St. Louis ! " shouted 
 one. " Dogs of blood, race, and bone, who are war- 
 ranted not to go mad ! " " Peregrine falcons and sittings 
 of eggs from England, Germany, and Norway ! " screamed 
 another. " A Gerfalcon hawk, the king of birds, taught 
 to seize hares, and capable of attacking the wolf and 
 wild-boar ! " 
 
 On the opposite side, on the right of the lists, was the 
 market for arms. It was like a camp of tents and awn- 
 ings of every shape and colour. Within, cuirasses, 
 shields, greaves, thigh-pieces, gauntlets, iron-caps, and 
 lances, and swords, and iron maces, and daggers. In 
 the centre of these temporary shops, the choicest kinds 
 of armour were disposed round a pole stuck into the 
 ground, so as to represent a warrior ; in some the knight 
 was on horseback, the capaiisons touching the ground ; 
 the head-piece, the mail collar, the iron saddle, the 
 crupper (made of the scales of a fish), covered so well 
 the wooden horse and the saddle-tree, that the sham 
 animal might pass for true. In other places two pre- 
 tended champions were placed opposite one another, and 
 appeared to be spurring against each other, all armed 
 cajì-à-pie, with lances in rest : thei'e were fantastic re- 
 presentations of encounters and conflicts, all arranged 
 by our armourers as traps to customers, who, principally 
 on the occasion of jousts and tourneys, hastened from 
 all parts to provide themselves with armour at Milan, 
 where were the most celebrated manufactories in Europe. 
 Every booth bore a placard with the name of the master 
 armourer. 
 
 " Giacomolo, how goes business ? " asked Lupo of a 
 fat, red-faced man, who was standing just within one of 
 these shops, with his elbows leaning on the bar, which 
 was across the entrance, looking idly at the passers-by. 
 
 " So-so," answered this individual, who was Giacomolo
 
 MARCO TISCOXTI. 203 
 
 Birago, one of the most celebrated makers of breast- 
 plates ; " taking into consideration tlie bad place I have 
 got, and the season, I have not done so badly." 
 
 " Have you sent that cuirass to Ottorino ? " 
 
 " Yes, 1 took it to him this morning, and he tried it 
 on, and looked quite a picture ; I tell you, it is a splendid 
 piece of armour — a thin plate of metal to resist a dagger 
 — tempered by my own hand ; and I have adorned it 
 with golden arabesques on the chest, so that I declare to 
 you, not only because it is my own work, but for truth's 
 sake, that Biassono and Pier degli Erminulfi and Estore 
 Casato would have given their heads to get possession 
 of it." 
 
 Just then there came up an old man covered up in a 
 long maroon-coloured robe, with a hood on his head, 
 the peak of which was tied round his neck, and said to 
 Giacomolo : 
 
 " Master, I want a morion of the first quality, with a 
 closed visor." 
 
 " Do you mean by that, fastened down over the face, 
 and opening behind ? " 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 " Those are old-fashioned articles, and I do not keep 
 them. The morion now is made with a visor, to move 
 up and down at the wearer's will. If you want those, I 
 have them of the best kind. Look here," and so saying, 
 he went towards the middle of the shop ; but the other 
 said to him : 
 
 " No ; do not disturb yourself, master. I only want 
 the shape I spoke of ; and where can I find one ? " 
 
 " You could try yonder — the fourth or fifth shop 
 counting from mine. Can you read ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Well, you can't mistake ; only ask for Ambrogio 
 Caimo, and any one will direct you. Perhaps he njay 
 have them, for he keeps antiquities. If you don't find 
 it there, you will have to go without." 
 
 " And how much should I pay for it if I find one ? " 
 
 " Well," answered Birago, drawHng his words and 
 shrugging his shoulders, " it is like asking how much a
 
 204 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 relic is to cost ; it may be more or less, according to 
 the devotion of the buyer and the conscience of the 
 vendor." 
 
 "Excuse me, if I have hindered you," said he of the 
 long robe, and vrent on his way. 
 
 "What kind of morion does he want?" said Lupo, 
 resuming his conversation with the armourer. 
 
 " They are morions," answered Birago, " which were 
 used once on a time, and were worn by persons who wished 
 to fight at a tourney, and remain unknown; for, being 
 all in one piece, there was no danger that a stroke with 
 a lance should raise the visor and discover the com- 
 batant's face." 
 
 " Ah ! I understand. ITow tell me some news. The 
 Viceroy is not yet arrived, is he ? " 
 
 " No ; they are running at the quintain. As soon as 
 he comes the tourney will begin." 
 
 " And is he keeping them all waiting ? " returned 
 Lupo. 
 
 The armourer only answered by compressing his lips 
 and shaking his head at the same time ; but, after an 
 instant, he lowered his voice, and said : 
 
 " You see what sort of people they are. If only it had 
 been Marco ! " And here he heaved a long sigh. 
 
 " Oh, if it had but been he ! " answered the Limontese, 
 sighing in his turn. 
 
 " But why does he go away ? " continued the armourer, 
 in a still lower voice. " He ought to stay here, where 
 we are all devoted to him ; and as to our own guild, 
 from the chief to the youngest boy, we would all go 
 through the fire for him." 
 
 " And the soldiers !" said Lupo, enthusiastically; "and 
 the nobility ! and, indeed, all ; but who knows what 
 reason there may be for his going away. I, for one, 
 hold that it is not so simple as it appears." 
 
 Here the colloquy was interrupted by the appearance 
 of the man in the long robe, who was coming back with 
 a morion in his hand. 
 
 " Well, my good man ! " cried the armourer, " did you 
 find it ? "
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 205 
 
 "Yes," the other answered, coming up and giving 
 him the helmet to examine, which he carried on his 
 wrist; " I found it where yon told me." 
 
 Birago opened it, looked it minutely over, inside and 
 out, and then said : 
 
 "It is an English make; and how much did Caimo 
 make you pay ?" 
 
 " Guess." 
 
 " Eight silver pieces ? " 
 
 "More." 
 
 " An imperial lira ? " 
 
 " More still." 
 
 " Come, tell me then — tell me. I can't go any further." 
 
 " I paid two gold florins." 
 
 " Gold ones ? " 
 
 " Yes, golden ones, and one was thirty imperial pence." 
 
 " What a thief ! " the armourer began, but he bit his 
 tongue, and restoring the morion to the unknown man, 
 added, " I must say, that whoever has two florins to 
 throw away on these old bits of iron must measure them 
 by the bushel." 
 
 " In whose service are you ? " asked Lupo, innocently 
 and unceremoniously of the unknown ; but he put his 
 fingers on his lips, and went off by the way he had first 
 come. 
 
 Our two friends followed him with their eyes till he 
 had disappeared among the crowd ; then the armourer 
 said to the other : 
 
 " This is for some one to wear who wishes to appear 
 incognito at the joust to morrow." 
 
 " If I was not waited for," said Lupo, " I should be 
 curious to follow him, to see where he is going to take the 
 queer old thing." 
 
 A customer now arriving to purchase from Birago 
 some kind of dagger, he, raising the bar, let him into the 
 shop, and the Limontese, seeing him immersed in busi- 
 ness, went on his way. 
 
 After another joui"ney through the crowd, he arrived 
 at last at one end of the lists, divided by scaifolding and 
 wooden turrets of various heights on the side of the city,
 
 206 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 and bj a simple barrier on the opposite side, which was 
 towards the woods. 
 
 Lupo entered, and saw the boarding covered with 
 garlands and flags, adorned with carpets, silks, cloths of 
 gold and silver ; saw knights, and ladies, and gentle 
 damsels sitting in front, and further back squires and 
 foot-pages : everywhere he saw plumes wave, hats and 
 hoods tossing, and weapons and jewels shining. A large 
 balcony, with pillars hung with white satin worked in 
 gold, still untenanted in the midst of such a concourse, 
 was intended for the Imperial Viceroy and his court ; 
 here shone above in beautiful embroidery the serpent 
 below and the black eagle above, the crests of the Vis- 
 conti and the Emperor. 
 
 In the middle of the large space of ground within the 
 barriers, there was placed on a pillar a half figure of an 
 armed warrior, with a shield on its left arm, and a large 
 and solid lance on the right ; and to strike at this figure 
 was the ambition of any one who could get a horse to 
 mount, and who wished to show off, and this was called 
 running the quintain, or running the Saracen, for the 
 figure was dressed in the Moorish fashion. At that time, 
 and for long after, this game was a popular enjoyment, 
 and also a school of arms, in which the youth were 
 trained to aim only "/ro, le quattro membra," as they ex- 
 pressed it, that is to say, at the breast and head of the 
 adversary, which were the only strokes counted fair and 
 loyal. The lances to be used had to be submitted to the 
 umpires of the quintain, and were all of the same length 
 and thickness ; and whoever broke the largest number, 
 and whoever made the best thrust were hailed as con- 
 querors. 
 
 But it was best of all when the figure did not receive 
 a fair thrust with the lance, for then a spring was touched, 
 when, by means of certain ingenious, hidden weights, it 
 was made to turn violently upon its pivot, and to deal 
 the inexpert champion a series of unexpected blows. 
 
 At the opposite end of the lists from the quintain 
 was placed another wooden horse which we must describe. 
 A post as thick as the trunk of a tree was planted in the
 
 MARCO YISCONTI. 207 
 
 ground, on whicli, by means of an iron swivel, a beam 
 •was laid crosswise which swung round at the slightest 
 touch. A man on horseback, riding at full tilt, had to 
 strike one end of the beam with his lance, and the art 
 consisted in avoiding, by rapid riding, the counter blow 
 dealt by the beam as it swung round on its axis. This 
 game was often highly perilous, and had, on that account, 
 in common with the jousts and tourneys, been forbidden 
 by bishops, popes, and councils, but bishops, popes, and 
 councils spent their breath in vain ; they might as well 
 have preached to the winds. 
 
 Lupo had presented himself before Ottorino, had 
 fastened on him Birago's new breast-plate, had given a 
 most minute examination to every part of the armour, 
 looking again carefully at the horse, the caparisons, the 
 panoply ; and when he had ascertained that everything 
 was entii'ely right, he entered the squires' pavilion, placed 
 at one end of the lists, and from there stood to observe 
 those who were running the quintain. Just then he saw 
 a man come up dressed from head to foot, half in red 
 and half in yellow, so that, seen from the right side, he 
 was all one colour, but seen from the left, another : a 
 fashion that was common in those times ; but it was 
 unusual to see it accompanied, as it was, in the person of 
 whom we are speaking, by a row of silver bells which hung 
 all round his hat ; and which rang at eveiy step he made, 
 
 "Welcome, Tremacoldo," said our squire, when the 
 other had come near enough for him to recognize in him 
 the buffoon, by whom the arms had been blessed at the 
 ordeal by battle. 
 
 " Is it you, Lupo ? " answered the mountebank ; " I 
 am so glad to have found you : I was coming to the 
 squires' tents to see if any one would lend me a breast- 
 plate and a horse to run a bout at the Saracen : so, per- 
 haps, you will do me this kindness ? " 
 
 " Do you mean to ride at the Saracen ? You are in 
 joke. I advise you to mind what you are doing, for it is 
 not quite the same thing as singing a song. Look at 
 that partisan in his hand ! He has dealt many blows 
 vv'ith it at people less inexpert than yourself."
 
 208 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 " He may strike whom he pleases, I don't care, for I 
 have got a wager with Arnaldo Vitale : he carried away 
 the palm in a minstrels' contest, and I have challenged 
 him to a contest at the Saracen." 
 
 " But do yon not know that Arnaldo Vitale is a squire, 
 and that he understands charging with the lance as well 
 as the first j ousters ? " 
 
 " But you do not know the terms of the challenge ? 
 He has to break his lance on the Saracen, and I am to 
 conquer by only touching it, without being struck by the 
 stick in its hand." 
 
 " So it is not, then, to be on equal terms ? " 
 
 " Equal terms ! No, you won't catch me at that. I 
 may be mad, but I am not mad enough for that yet." 
 
 " And are you not ashamed ? " 
 
 " Of what ? to gain without trouble a fine horse ? " 
 
 " And what do you wager ? " 
 
 " I wager a piece of that gold chain which your master 
 gave me at Bellano ; the rest I have lost at the gaming 
 table." 
 
 " Poor chain, and your poor shoulders ; well, do as 
 you please." 
 
 " So, you will lend me this horse and this breast- 
 plate ? " 
 
 " For one trial only." 
 
 " That is understood." 
 
 " Well, come inside, then, and I will put you up to 
 everything." 
 
 Having arrayed him in a light corselet with his trusty 
 rest fastened to his chest. Lupo mounted the bufi^oon on 
 his own horse, and put into his hand a lance. " This is 
 only for practice," he said to him; "drive the thrust 
 from there," and he showed him the rest. " Remember 
 to keep your knees tight, to bend forward in your saddle, 
 so that the blow does not throw you from your horse ; so, 
 a little more this way, hold the lance tight, throw out 
 your arms more ; try to strike in the right place, and 
 recommend yourself to your patron saint." 
 
 " Leave it to me," replied Tremacoldo, and departed 
 at a trot towards the middle of the arena.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 209 
 
 "Wait to put on your spurs," Lupo cried. 
 
 "I will do without," answered the buiioon, and did 
 not stop. 
 
 A trumpeter making the round of the barriers an- 
 nounced the challenge between Arnaldo Vitale and Tre- 
 macoldo, and then the terms in which it was couched. 
 Everybody knew how feather-brained the challenger was, 
 and therefore prepared to behold some sample of his folly. 
 
 When the pledges were placed in the hands of the 
 judges, two grooms dressed in bearskin, and imitating 
 in their movements the animals they represented, ap- 
 proached the competitors to present to each a lance ; but 
 while Tremacoldo was stretching out his hand to take 
 his, the horse he rode pricked up its ears, dilated its 
 panting nostrils, snuffed shyly and fiercely at the bear- 
 skin, then, starting back, reared up, so that the poor 
 rider very nearly was thrown off on the ground ; he saw 
 himself in danger, stuck his knees into the saddle, and 
 threw his arms round the neck of the infuriated animal. 
 It was fortunate for him he had no spurs on, and Lupo, 
 arriving at that crisis, took hold of the horse by the 
 bridle, calHng him by his name, caressing his head, pat- 
 ting him on the neck and side, and made him soon as 
 quiet as a lamb. 
 
 When the laughter roused by this incident had sub- 
 sided, the herald cried in a loud voice : " Call Arnaldo 
 Vitale." 
 
 And there was the troubadour, who, quite clothed in 
 armour, with a bright cuirass and the silver spurs, the 
 distinctive mark of a squire, now sped across the field, 
 threw himself on the Saracen, and struck it right in the 
 centre of the shield with such an impetus that the whole 
 machine shook, and the lance was broken in pieces. This 
 was the third that had been broken that day, but none 
 had yet struck the " brocco," that is to say, the iron 
 point which was in the centre of the shield, called on 
 that account " brocchiere ; " and so it was decreed this 
 was the best thrust. 
 
 The herald shouted, " Imbroccato," and there was a 
 general sound of applause. 
 
 p
 
 210 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 In anotlier moment the multitude began to cry out, 
 " Now for Tremacoldo ; it is Tremacoldo's turn." 
 
 " I am here, I am not going to run away," replied the 
 buffoon. 
 
 " Quick, put your lance in rest," said Lupo, who was 
 standing at his side, and was acting huriasso, as they ex- 
 pressed it, at that time, and as we should say, padrino : 
 " quick, turn the horse, and give him his head." But the 
 cheat, who did not care to run a desperate race for 
 nothing, had already thought of a trick to get out of it 
 by an artifice ; and instead of putting the lance in rest, 
 he passed it under his arm, and started off towards the 
 goal, all of a heap in his saddle, tossed tip and down like 
 a sack of potatoes, so that he was a sight to see. 
 
 Arrived at the goal, he gave a thrust with his lance, 
 immediately entangling it in the folds of the purple 
 mantle in which the figure of the Saracen was draped. 
 It was not a fair blow, and consequently the lay figure, 
 unaccustomed to such treatment, revolved with a sudden 
 noisy motion on its pivot, and the staff which it carried 
 in its hand seemed about to fall with a furious blow on 
 the back of the inexpert rider. Everybody expected to 
 see the jester knocked clean off his horse on to the 
 ground, but he, aware of the peril, as soon as he had 
 given the thrust •with, his lance, had flung himself prone 
 on the horse's neck, so that the staff only caught the top 
 of his hat, whirling it away to an immense distance amid 
 the delighted jeers of the multitude. As soon as he had 
 got out of reach of his enemy, Tremacoldo, with a sly 
 laugh, raised himself from his cramped and prone 
 position, seated himself upright in his saddle, turned his 
 horse's head, and rode back again straight up to the 
 figure of the Saracen, which had now resumed its cus- 
 tomary attitude with its staff once more stiff and steady 
 in its hand, and proceeded to accost it with taunts and 
 gibes, and the various ludicrous grimaces proper to his 
 jester's calling. 
 
 " You idiot ! you thought to play me a trick, eh, you 
 dog ? but Tremacoldo is too old a bird to be caught with 
 chaff."
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 211 
 
 " Tremacoldo," said one of tlie judges of the quin- 
 tain, " according to the terms of the wager, yon have 
 lost." 
 
 " How can I have lost if the stick did not touch me ? " 
 
 " Look at your hat on the ground, which bears witness 
 against yon," replied the judge. 
 
 " What has my hat to do with me ? my hat is a tricky 
 fellow, and if it takes it into its head to go tumbling on 
 the ground, is it my fault ? " 
 
 The judge was going to reply, but Arnaldo Vitale 
 now broke in, pleased with the success of his stroke, and 
 came between them, saying : 
 
 " Tremacoldo is right ; we spoke of his person and not 
 of his hat ; " then, turning to the man himself : " take 
 the horse, which is yours, and which you have fairly 
 won." 
 
 The bystanders were all pleased with this courteous 
 conduct, and they all agreed to praise the brave and 
 generous troubadour, to whom was unanimously decreed 
 the prize of the quintain : a sword with a silver hilt. 
 
 In the meantime, the Imperial Viceroy, Azzone, had 
 arrived in company with his uncles Luchino and Gio- 
 vanni Visconti, and a numerous and splendid court of 
 barons, squires, and pages. He had hardly shown him- 
 self to the people, than there arose a few cries of — 
 " Long live Azzone ! Long live the Viceroy, the Lord of 
 Milan ! " But it was a cold demonstration ; a dull mur- 
 mur soon drowned those voices, and, at last, from some 
 spots was to be heard a clear and distinct cry of — " Hur- 
 rah for Marco ! " so that Luchino, after having looked 
 round, bent down to his nephew's ear, and said : 
 
 "It is lucky for us that we have got rid of him for 
 some time." 
 
 The Imperial Viceroy was dressed in a long rich robe 
 of flowered damask, closed in fi'ont by a row of gold 
 buttons. A strip of ermine, not more than three fingers 
 wide, was passed across his forehead fastening a piece of 
 black taffeta embroidered with silver stars, two ends of 
 which came squarely down to his ears, whilst the back 
 part fell on the shoulders in the shape of a cap or hat ;
 
 212 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 a lordly fasliion, whicli made the face appear square, r .J. 
 set off the complexion to advantage. 
 
 Naturally gentle and pleasant, Azzone made still more 
 show of kindness and courtesy in order to win over the 
 populace, who he knew were not too well inclined to 
 him ; he therefore leant half out of the balcony to answer 
 the saluations of the barons and knights who were nearest 
 to him ; waved his hand and bowed to every artisan, 
 every poor woman who made obeisance to him ; courtesies 
 which cost the great nothing, and which are so valued 
 by the lower classes. 
 
 Azzone, having caught sight of Arnaldo Vitale at this 
 moment, took his own sword from his side, and presented 
 it to the judge of the quintain, and buckling on the one 
 that had been gained as a prize, turned to one of his 
 squires, who was standing behind his gilded seat, and 
 said to him : 
 
 " Attend to me, Lampugnano ; go down into the lists, 
 and bring me that troubadour who won the prize of 
 the quintain." 
 
 While the young man was obeying his orders, the 
 Viceroy said to his two uncles, between whom he was : 
 
 " While they are clearing the ground, and the cham- 
 pions are preparing for the tourney, we will have some 
 singing." 
 
 Luchino made an indifferent gesture ; but his brother 
 Giovanni, who, already a bishop, had just been made a 
 cardinal, and who was devoted to show and pomp, and 
 all the luxury of the secular life of that time, asked hi"; 
 nephew : 
 
 " Tell me if this is the Arnaldo Vitale who, a few years 
 ao-o, won at Tolosa the prize of the golden viol, offered 
 by the seven patrons of the gay science." 
 
 " The very same," answered Azzone. 
 
 Then the prelate began to tell wonderful things of 
 him, for he had heard him praised in all the Courts of 
 Italy, and knew some of his songs by heart ; Luchino's 
 look of contempt had not escaped him, and having often 
 reproached his brother for being rough and ill-bred in 
 the polite arts, he began to make a long eulogium on
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 213 
 
 troubadours and minstrels ; liow to be friendly witb them 
 brought you reputation and glory ; how the people de- 
 lighted in them above all things ; how Marco owed in 
 part his great popularity to his liberal ways with these 
 singers. In short, he worked the subject threadbare. 
 
 At the time of our story the troubadours, minstrels, 
 and jesters who swarmed all over Europe, were, for the 
 most part, an idle race, who, roaming from country to 
 town with a lute or cithern round their necks, attended 
 all festivities, visited every palace and city, and excited 
 the foolish prodigality of nobles and princes. In times 
 when the communication between towns and provinces 
 was slow and difficult, they carried about the news of 
 public events and private aifairs : a great deal of slander 
 and gossip ; the latest fashions in weapons, tourneys, 
 and love affairs ; they sang of the glories, and betrayed 
 the foibles of the great. Often they praised vice to the 
 skies, and dragged virtue through the mire, according 
 to their fancy or the pleasure of those who paid them. 
 Base and servile instruments in the hands of the rich 
 and powerful ; while among themselves, in their eager 
 emulation, they fought, and strove, and quarrelled, often 
 coming to blows and bloodshed. In a word, they led 
 the life of a dog, now receiving a piece of bread from 
 the hands of their employer, and now a kick, just as 
 occasion served. 
 
 Among this rabble might be found, however, some 
 honest men, and some good poets, and Arnaldo Vitale 
 was certainly one of them. 
 
 He appeared in the Viceroy's balcony, dressed as a 
 troubadour, for he had laid aside his breastplate and 
 other armour, and had arrayed himself in a doublet and 
 leggings of blue and white. He wore on his head a 
 square blue cap, with two white feathers, which shaded 
 his left cheek. He appeared to be about thirty years of 
 age ; with his head covered with rich, soft, chestnut 
 locks, and a calm and rather stern expression of coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 The party in the Viceroy's balcony drew round him 
 at once, and those in the neighbouring erections stretched
 
 214 MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 forward to hear Mm. He looked round the noble circle, 
 and then bowing to Azzone, asked him for a subject. 
 
 " I have often heard my father," said the Viceroy, 
 " who was in France for some time, recall the adventures 
 of one Folchetto di Provenza, who, though only the son 
 of a smith, became Count of Narbonne, and then died a 
 friar in a Spanish convent. You will know all the par- 
 ticulars, as you have been in those parts, how will it suit 
 you to sing me this history in verse ? " 
 
 " I will do all that is in my power to obey, though I 
 am but an unworth instrument in the hands of so great 
 a lord," answered Arnaldo ; and hanging round his neck 
 the lute which he held in his hand, he touched the cords, 
 and said — "I must supply the tune and the words," 
 which would mean in our modern language — improvise 
 both music and poetry. 
 
 Then he began by soft preludes to prepare the listeners 
 for that description of emotion which he wished to arouse 
 by his verses ; and in the meantime he appeared absorbed 
 as one meditating, turning his eyes upwards, and his 
 cheeks glowing, his brow seeming to expand to his imagi- 
 nation ; his whole being was agitated by the internal 
 workings of his mind. There was a deep silence, all 
 were looking at the poet with respectful attention ; and 
 now, accompanied by a soft melody on the lute, he began 
 his song in a voice at first not quite assured, but which 
 soon became most pleasant and sweet. 
 
 No rose, whose fragrance sweet and fair, 
 
 The summer suns diffuse, 
 Can vie with Fulk, the gay young Page 
 
 Of Raymond of Toulouse ; 
 Of doughty deeds, and true of heart, 
 Nor yet unskilled in Minstrel's art, 
 
 The sweetest lay to choose. 
 
 Oh ! could you see this gallant youth 
 
 Upon his dapple gray, 
 Ride straight into the tournament, 
 
 In battle's proud array ; 
 St. George scarce seemed a truer knight 
 When, after long and fearful fight, 
 
 He did the Dragon slay.
 
 MAECO VISCOXTI. 215 
 
 But if with sad and tuneful notes 
 
 His plaintive song is told, 
 While round his face the fair hair floats 
 
 In locks of curling gold ; 
 There seems, before our startled sight, 
 An angel form, all bathed in light, 
 
 Not one of mortal mould. 
 
 No knightl}^ court of high repute 
 
 But bids him welcome free, 
 No village maid but softly sighs 
 
 His graceful firm to see; 
 But faithful Fulk, to share would scorn 
 The homage to his master sworn, 
 And to his fair ladye. 
 
 Of Salamanca's proudest line 
 
 She comes, and Nelda hight, 
 With hair and eyebrows black as jet, 
 
 And face of marble white ; 
 Nor does Toulouse's town contain 
 A lady of more high disdain. 
 
 Or one more fair to sight. 
 
 His eager love the lady spurns, 
 
 And puts his suit aside, 
 ♦* Methinks he savours of the forge," 
 
 So spake her scorn and pride ; 
 " The daughter of a baron born, 
 Would think it shame and foulest scorn 
 
 To be a menial's bride ! " 
 
 The luckless Page, his bitter fate 
 
 Lamenting day by day. 
 Sings to his harp her praises sweet 
 
 In song and roundelay ; 
 Her favour, still withheld, to gain 
 By feats of arms he seeks in vain, 
 
 And breaks a lance each day. 
 
 Then like a flower, parched by heat, 
 
 Doth perish from our sight. 
 From out his face there seemed to pass 
 
 The colour fair and light ; 
 And slowly doth the youth expire 
 Before the glance of burning fire. 
 
 Shot by those eyes so bright. 
 
 Death would have seized him for his prey. 
 
 But to the rescue came 
 His right good liege, who dubbed him knight 
 
 Without reproach or shame j
 
 216 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 Of Narbonne made hirn Count and Lord, 
 And for his bride did him accord 
 The fair and haughty Dame. 
 
 Now fierce prepares the din of war, 
 From Toulouse camp the battle's roar 
 
 Comes sweeping o'er the plain : 
 Hath not the Lord of Provence sworn 
 To crush the rebel with his scorn ?' 
 
 Nor will he swear in vain. 
 
 Each knight is there in full array, 
 High Hutters every pennon gay. 
 Towards Antibes they make their way, 
 
 Resoived to lay it siege. 
 And Fulk, who rode him by his side, 
 With mournful looks did Raymond chide, 
 " Grieve not o'er thy forsaken bride," 
 
 So spoke this courteous liege. 
 
 " Too soon from tliee thy love was ta'en, 
 And hastening o'er the Narbonne plain, 
 A horseman fleet now speeds amain. 
 
 To bring her to thy side." 
 The day broke with auspicious morn, 
 Alas ! there rose another dawn, 
 A third day, yet a fourth were born, 
 
 And in succession died. 
 
 No Nelda came — his hopes were vain. 
 Nor was the horseman seen again 
 
 On fruitless eri*and sent. 
 Now yields to terms the captui'ed town, 
 The rebel flag is trampled down. 
 
 And struck is every tent. 
 
 Fulk from his vassal duties freed. 
 And mounted on his gallant steed. 
 His steps rejoicing homeward turns. 
 And all day long in spirit yearns 
 
 His castle fair to see. 
 When turning from the path aside. 
 Amid the olives he descried 
 
 An humble hostelry. 
 
 And there, to his astonished sight. 
 
 Pacing a lofty terrace height. 
 
 Where dash beneath the billows white. 
 
 And toss their spray on high ; 
 A lady wrung her hands and wept, 
 While, o'er the sea, she steadfast kept 
 
 Her fixed and straining eye.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 217 
 
 None can mistake that haughty air, 
 Thei'e bi-eatiies no otlier maid so fair, 
 The lonk, tlie form, the dress declare, 
 
 That lie discerns aright. 
 'Tis Nelda, from his horse he springs, 
 (J'er the arched neck the bridle flings, 
 But round his thoughts suspicion clings, 
 
 And trembling with affright, 
 " Nelda," he cries, " my wife, my own, 
 Say wherefore thou art here, alone, 
 
 And in so sad a plight ? " 
 
 Her countenance of ashy-white. 
 All streaming loose her hair, 
 She wreathed her trembling lips to form 
 
 A smile of last despair ; 
 Then turned, and calling up her pride, [cried. 
 
 " Stand off, now mark my farewell words," in accents fierce, she 
 
 " The glory of an ancient line 
 
 Was humbled to the earth, 
 When I was made to wed with thee 
 
 A churl of peasant birth. 
 True knighthood can no liege bestow, 
 Unless the gentle blood be there, through purple veins to flow. 
 
 " Could I such deep dishonour bear ? 
 I scorned the insult vile, 
 And summoned to avenge my cause 
 
 A knight from Britain's isle. 
 Ah ! faithless wretch — how false his aid, 
 One morn, his ship's departing sails, to my despair displayed ! 
 
 " Twice the sun's declining rays. 
 And twice the dawn I saw, 
 Pacing with sad and weary steps 
 
 Along this unknown shore, 
 A spectacle for all men's scorn. 
 Ah ! woe betide the hapless day that ever I was born ! 
 
 *' Now what remains ? A suppliant 
 To thee, whom I despise ; 
 Shall I a pardon ask of one 
 All hateful in my eyes ? 
 No, let the abject crawl and sue. 
 Be mine a different fate — my father tell — adieu." 
 
 She spoke, and, from the terrace height, 
 
 One headlong leap she gave. 
 Her flying form an instant seen. 
 
 Then plunged beneath the wave. 
 And all along the lonely shore 
 The fatal fall, the bitter cry were heard, then all was o'er.
 
 218 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 For straight upon the cruel rocks 
 
 Dashed her fair form and frail, 
 
 She sank — but to the surface I'ose 
 
 Her white and flowing veil. 
 And there, with stain of crimson dyed, 
 Appeared the circling waters of the white and foaming tide 
 
 Not e'en a tear was shed, 
 
 Never a word was said 
 
 By that proud knight, so dread 
 
 In armour clad. 
 And without more delay, 
 By the shore took his way, 
 'Lone wand'ring all that day, 
 
 Silent and sad. 
 
 Loud the winds roar and rave. 
 Curling each angry wave 
 With lofty crest so brave. 
 
 High the spray threw. 
 Onwards the ship doth stand, 
 Whence, gazing on the strand, 
 To his fair native land 
 
 He bids adieu. 
 
 Through the cold northern blast, 
 Straight flew the ship, and fast, 
 At length her anchor cast 
 
 On Britain's shore. 
 And there, in mortal fight. 
 Thus to avenge his right. 
 He met the traitor-knight. 
 
 With challenge sore. 
 
 Quicker than lightning's glance, 
 Each couched his trusty lance. 
 While the steeds neigh and prance, 
 
 Champing the rein. 
 Forward in mortal shock, 
 Lance with lance there doth knock 
 Firm stands each steed as rock, 
 
 Till one is slain. 
 
 Now on their feet they stand, 
 Each waves aloft his brand, 
 In close fight, hand to band, 
 
 Gallant their bearing. 
 Helmet and shield may tell 
 What cruel blows there fell. 
 Long fought the knights, and well, 
 
 Eeckless and daring.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 219 
 
 Then, Iiis revenge to gain, 
 Fulk, his great wrath and pain, 
 In himself doth contain, 
 
 And with his might. 
 One tinal thrust did deal, 
 Making the traitor feel. 
 That in his heart the steel 
 
 Had entered quite. 
 
 And death, his pallid hue 
 Over that visage threw, 
 Terrible once to view 
 
 In wrath and pride. 
 Vainly the bleeding wound. 
 Pressed with his hand, he bound, 
 And slowly, to the ground, 
 
 Tottered and died. 
 
 Then, while he sheathed his sword, 
 Still speaking ne'er a word, 
 Did the avenged lord 
 
 Gaze on the slain. 
 Yet though, o'erspread his mien 
 One glance of triumph keen. 
 Ne'er will his smile be seen 
 
 Ever again. 
 
 Where Spain's extremest confines rest 
 Upon a mountain's lofty crest ; 
 Whose base, firm-rooted in the deep. 
 Fair Provence fronts with shaggy steep. 
 The Cloister rears its silent shade, 
 
 By pious Bruno built. 
 Haply from his grief-stricken head 
 To wash the stain of guilt. 
 
 A chosen few assembled there, 
 In sackcloth clad, on frugal fare, 
 In penitential prayer and fast. 
 
 Are still content to dwell. 
 Strict rules, which all their lives must last, 
 And this they know full well. 
 
 Hark ! to the bell, whose solemn sound, 
 Bids vaulted roof and arch resound. 
 While round an open grave are seen 
 The Monks, whose sad and mournful mien, 
 
 Their inward grief confessed. 
 Who is that dying man ? declare I 
 Stretched on the stony earth and bare, 
 
 His arms crossed o'er his breast ?
 
 220 MARCO VISCONTI, 
 
 Lo! where the toi'ch's flickering light 
 Reveals a well-known form to sight, 
 'Tis Fulk of Narbonne, lord and knight. 
 
 Now at the point of death. 
 White as the frost or driven snow, 
 His hoary beard doth downward flow, 
 Still o'er his aged breast descends, 
 E'en past the girdle's cord extends. 
 
 And with each long-di*awn breath, 
 
 Which bids his bosom heave and swell, 
 In gentle cadence rose and fell 
 
 Like waves upon the shore. 
 But in that last and solemn hour, 
 One fatal image still hath power 
 The buried past again to raise, 
 And fix once more his longing gaze, 
 Still mingling with each dying thought 
 And calm repose, so dearl3^ bought, 
 
 By penance long and sore. 
 
 Once more her hov'ring form appears 
 With pallid face, all bathed in tears ; 
 Her dark hair, o'er her shoulders cast, 
 Wild, loose, and streaming to the blast, 
 
 His fair and faithless love ! 
 Ah, holy man ! and doth there rise 
 A tear unbidden to thine eyes ? 
 Why weep'st thou ? 'Tis a last farewell, 
 (Thy grief I understand too well,) 
 That form, once loved, can never dwell 
 
 Among the Saints above!
 
 MARCO YISCONTI. 221 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 NOTHING could exceed the enthusiasm aroused by 
 this song. The Viceroy rose up from his throne, 
 sprang forward to embrace the minstrel, and after over- 
 whelming him with praises, said to him : "As you have 
 been reduced to go on foot through your own courtesy, 
 I cannot let you leave my dominions in this mean way ; 
 so I hope you will for my sake accept of a palfrey and 
 a travelling nag as guerdon for your minstrelsy." On 
 this he turned to an attendant, and after ordering him 
 to have the two horses got ready at once, told him, in a 
 whisper, to add thereto a rich dress and a liberal sum of 
 money. 
 
 The cardinal then drew from his forefinger an emerald 
 ring, and placed it himself on the finger of Vitale ; and 
 Luchino, not to be outdone, presented him with a small 
 dagger with a richly embossed gold handle. Their ex- 
 ample was followed by all the knights present at the 
 spectacle, who vied with each other in offering him 
 different presents ; while the fair ladies, dames, and 
 damsels, alike enchanted by his marvellous skill, all 
 pressed round him offering him some token of approba- 
 tion, and accompanied the gift by such kind words and 
 gestures, as to enhance his appreciation of it a hundred- 
 fold. 
 
 We feel sure our readers will think all this praise very 
 absurd of a song, which they would, no doubt, consider 
 a very poor performance. But we must beg them to 
 remember that it is one thing to sit in a room book in 
 hand, conning over the words of a composition in black 
 and white ; and quite another to hear it furiously de- 
 claimed by the bard's own lips, as he utters the words
 
 222 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 witli flashing eyes, aided by the enchantment of an har- 
 monious voice, and accompanied by the ever-varying 
 tones of the lute, to suit the sentiments expressed by the 
 words, and all this amid an excited assemblage of youths 
 and maidens, where the feelings of each listener are 
 excited by what he sees going on around him, like single 
 sparks of fire which gradually unite in one grand con- 
 flagration. 
 
 The minstrel had scarcely departed, when Azzone took 
 his seat on the dais, which was the signal for commencing 
 the tournament. The arena had already been cleared of 
 the populace, who had been allowed to go in and out at 
 will as long as the quintain and the other games had 
 been going on ; the bars had been let down inside the 
 lists, and a herald rode round uttering at each of the 
 four sides of the arena the following proclamation. 
 
 " Oyez ! Oyez ! Oyez ! This is the proclamation of 
 the high and mighty Lord Azzone, Viceroy of his Serene 
 Majesty, the Emperor of the Romans. Let no one dare 
 to enter the lists during the tournament, or to favour or 
 disfavour any of the combatants by deed, word, or sign, 
 under pain of forfeiting horse and armour, if the 
 offender be knight or squire ; of losing an ear, if he be 
 artisan or labourer ; a hand, if he be a slave, and his 
 life, if he be a knave or a felon." 
 
 This done, the six judges of the tournament, clad in 
 long silken robes, took their seats in a gallery near the 
 Viceregal box, in front of which a banner was displayed, 
 embroidered with gold and scarlet quarterings. 
 
 Not a sound was to be heard in all that vast multi- 
 tude ; the parapets of the towers, the galleries and 
 boxes were crowded with spectators, while the barri- 
 cades round the lists, where no seats had been erected, 
 swarmed with people surging and treading one upon 
 another ; and all eyes were directed in turn to the two 
 opposite ends of the lists, where two pairs of magnificent 
 tents had been pitched, those on the Viceroy's right 
 being scarlet, and those on his left white. 
 
 But now a flourish of trumpets was heard, and from 
 the two white pavilions issued forth twelve knights clad
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 223 
 
 ill wMte surcoats, witli white plumes in their helmets, 
 and the same number of squires, with green stripes on 
 their doublets — while from the opposite pavilions came 
 an equal number of knights and squires with red surcoats 
 and plumes, and yellow livery respectively. 
 
 At the head of the white troop was our friend Otto- 
 rino ; and the red one was led by a young Milanese 
 warrior, by name Sacramoro. The two parties who 
 were to fight with blunted lances, arms of courtesy, as 
 they were called, now advanced slowly towards each 
 other, and stopping before the Viceroy's box, saluted 
 him by lowering the points of their lances. 
 
 Their richly-caparisoned chargers had iron horns on 
 their foreheads, and rows of bells suspended from their 
 breast- plates. Each knight had his family colours em- 
 blazoned on his shield, in all sorts of fantastic devices, 
 with his crest and past feats of arms, so as to be better 
 distinguished in the melee. Besides this, each man wore 
 a strip of taffeta, of different colours. Some carried it 
 fastened on their side, others on their shoulder-belt ; it 
 was called the lady's favour, as it was, or was supposed 
 to be, a gift fi-om the knight's lady-love, towards whom, 
 according to the rules of chivalry, every one had to turn 
 his thoughts before engaging in any dangerous enter- 
 prise, so as to give himself courage to come out of the 
 affair with honour. 
 
 We said above that these were either real or pretended 
 gifts between lovers, because all knights could not 
 possibly have been really in love, or at any rate have 
 met with a sympathetic damsel ; but as in those days 
 the absence of love in a knight was in itself a crime, 
 not to say downright irreligion, those who were not in 
 love pretended to be so, and those who had no lady-love's 
 colours to be donned, invented some for themselves, and 
 left the lookers-on to exercise their conjectures. 
 
 The fact is that the passion of fevered love had 
 arrived at such a pitch with these knights, that they 
 made a point of yielding to no one in this particular, 
 and it was quite common for some blockhead to go about 
 armed cap-à-ine, from one country and one court to
 
 224 MARCO VISCOKTI. 
 
 another, challenging every knight he met to single 
 combat, unless he confessed at once that his opponent's 
 lady-love was the most beauteous and most virtuous 
 damsel in the world, and his love for her the most un- 
 feigTied. Then the witless idiot would on this flimsy 
 pretext unhorse, wound, and kill other fools like himself, 
 until he stumbled across someone with a harder head 
 than his own, who, with a good sword-cut or lance- 
 thi'ust, did him the pious service of knocking his folly 
 out of his head by sending him to fertilize a cabbage 
 garden. 
 
 When chivalry became extinct, that elegant device of 
 pretending to be ardently in love descended, in Italy at 
 least, to the poets. Hence arose that legion of affected, 
 tiresome, woebegone imitators of Petrarch, who so long 
 inundated Italy with sonnets and canzonets addressed 
 to the eyes, the mouth, the foot, the hand, or the com- 
 plexion, and so on, of innumerable Queens of beauty, 
 one lovelier than the other. Luckily, poets are a quiet 
 race, and generally do not make war on more than their 
 neighbour's listening powers — otherwise it would have 
 gone hard with our poor ancestors. 
 
 But to return to our story. After saluting the Vice- 
 roy, the two companies wheeled off to right and left, 
 till they arrived at their respective ends of the lists, 
 whence they again returned halfway down the course, 
 halted, and mutually saluted each other. Their noble 
 chargers champed their bits, as if eager for the fray, 
 while their riders with their visors down, and lances 
 erect, came forward in a serried mass with their re- 
 spective leaders slightly in advance. Their helmets, 
 cuirasses, and shields, adorned with gold and silver 
 badges, gleamed brightly in the rays of the mid-day 
 sun, while the housings and caparisons of their chargers 
 flaunted out to the public gaze as they turned along the 
 course, and plumes, banners, and streamers floated in 
 the wind. 
 
 Our knowing armourer, as soon as he saw the arrival 
 of the Viceroy, left his shop in the charge of an ap- 
 ])rentice, and ran to the left side of the barrier near
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 225 
 
 the two white pavilions, where his wife was expecting 
 liim. 
 
 A place had been kept for him by half a dozen of his 
 workmen, who cleared a way for him as soon as the 
 plumed cap of the master armourer was seen above the 
 crowd, so that he was soon seated by his wife's side, his 
 elbows leaning on the bamer. 
 
 " Look, it fits him hke a glove," said Birago to one of 
 his young men, pointing to Ottorino's cuirass, who was 
 just then passing in front of them. 
 
 The young man was on the point of answering, but 
 the armourer's wife interrupting him, seized her hus- 
 band's arm, and asked him, saying, "Tell me, Giaco- 
 molo, who is that knight, the third in the ranks ? is he 
 blind of one eye that he keeps it bandaged like that ? 
 he looks too smartly got up for fighting." 
 
 " His sight is as good as either of ours," replied the 
 armourer; "I know him well: his name is Bronzino 
 Caimo, one of those Caimi who once lived at Saint 
 Ambrogio, and now reside near Broletto Nuovo ; I will 
 tell you the history of that bandaged eye. He once 
 made love to a lady of the Lampugnani family, who 
 would have nothing to do with him, he was such a poor 
 simpleton ; so, in order to get rid of him for a while, she 
 gave him to understand that she could not bear the 
 sight of a booby whom no one outside our walls knew 
 anything about. She told him this in somewhat politer 
 terms than these, but it came to the same thing — so 
 what do you think the poor fool did ? He laid wait for 
 the lady as she was walking one evening in her garden, 
 plumped down on his knees before her, and taking one 
 of her hands, shut his own eye with it, and then swore 
 never again to open it till he had unhorsed three 
 knights ; and that he would never again appear in her 
 presence but with two eyes open, that is, till he had 
 fulfilled his vow." 
 
 "What curious vows!" exclaimed Birago's wife — 
 " and do they still bind him ? " 
 
 " Certainly they do, and on the strength of them, even 
 he has become a man of some mark, and goes about the
 
 22G MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 country picking quarrels in all directions. The conse- 
 quence is, that he has been unhorsed no end of times. 
 Once he had his shoulder put out, another time he came 
 home with a broken arm, and a third time with his ribs 
 stove in ; but on he goes, storming and hammering 
 away, till in the course of three years or three years and 
 a half, he has just managed to unhorse two of his 
 knights ; and as he never misses the chance of a fight, 
 here he is again, and if he succeeds in emptying a third 
 saddle, he will unbandage his eye and present himself to 
 his mistress, who cannot then do less than permit his 
 addi'esses." 
 
 Meanwhile the band of red knights came trooping 
 past our couple. Its leader, Sacramoro, displayed be- 
 neath his helmet a visage well bronzed by the sun and 
 set off by a pair of truculent eyes — his mouth and left 
 cheek were disfigured by a deep scar extending to his 
 chin — while his broad chest and shoulders made him 
 look very formidable, as he rode forward on a fine dark 
 brown Macedonian charger, with the careless mien of a 
 man accustomed to face far greater dangers than these. 
 
 " Look ! look ! " said Birago, pointing him out to his 
 wife, " there goes one of the first lances in the Milanese ; 
 he has seen service in Germany, France, and Palestine." 
 
 " I prefer the leader of the white knights," replied 
 the lady. " He seems quite as good a man as the other, 
 and certainly looks more of a Christian." 
 
 " He is a noble young fellow, too," said her husband ; 
 " he, too, was fitted out at my armoury ; but I can tell 
 you that fellow Sacramoro will give him a tough bone 
 to crack." 
 
 " But why do those two men," asked the lady, point- 
 ing to the white knights, who were drawn up in a line 
 in front of the pavilions, " carry shields of one colour 
 without any quarterings ?" 
 
 " That means, that they are novices ; in default of 
 some special act of prowess, they are bound, for the fir.st 
 year of their knighthood, to wear their shields in that 
 fashion, of a single coloui' and smooth — But hush ! tliey 
 are going to begin."
 
 MARCO YISCOXTI. 227 
 
 At the first sound of the trumpets, the knights, who 
 were drawn up in lines at each end of the lists, all 
 lowered their visors together ; at the second, they placed 
 their lances in rest ; and at the third, both parties, 
 uttering their respective cries of San Ambrogio, and 
 Ottorino, and San Giorgio, and Sacramoro, set off at 
 full speed from either end, and encountered each other 
 in the middle of the arena with a noise like thunder. 
 In a moment you saw lances shivered to pieces, knights 
 unhorsed, horses charging each other Ijreast to breast, 
 or biting and striking out with their forefeet, and then 
 galloping off all over the course with empty saddles and 
 dangling reins ; while from the meUe arose a cloud of 
 blinding dust, from which proceeded a confused mass of 
 cries of triumph, rage, encouragement, and command. 
 Soon after grooms came running up to catch the loose 
 horses, squires to assist their lords to remount, and in- 
 ferior attendants to help some disabled man out of the 
 melee ; while the outside of the lists resounded with the 
 exclamations and applause of the spectators, who were 
 eagerly asking which side had got the best of it. 
 
 The knights now discarded their lances, and di^ew 
 their swords, called di marra because they had neither 
 point nor edge. They were formidable weapons, how- 
 ever, and when brought down on a helmet by arms that 
 knew no other trade, quite heavy enough, if the blow 
 was well aimed, to break the head inside, or, at least, to 
 make the wearer stagger dizzily about for a good while. 
 Meanwhile the heralds, umpires, and clerks of the course, 
 who kept vigilant watch on the combatants to see that 
 they fought fairly, and did their duty, were incessantly 
 calling out to them to remember Avhose sons they were, 
 and not to show themselves degenerate. 
 
 The combat lasted rather more than an hour with 
 varying fortune ; but at last the white party seemed to 
 have had the worst of it. Four of them had been 
 borne to the tents severely wounded, while their com- 
 rades, hard pressed by the enemy, continued slowly to 
 retreat. The Viceroy, thinking it was all over with 
 them, and wishing to avoid further bloodshed, was on
 
 228 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 tlie point of giving the signal that the fighting should 
 cease, when Ottorino, calling Beatrice and her message 
 to mind, and burning with rage and shame, threw his 
 shield behind him, clutched his sword desperately with 
 both hands, and charged the leader of the red party, 
 crying out : " Look to yourself, Sacramoro ! " 
 
 The threatened man at once threw up his broad 
 buckler over his head, and directed an ineffectual sword- 
 thrust at his adversary's cuirass. The latter, however, 
 seeing from his opponent's style of defence that a direct 
 blow at the head would be of no use, lowered his sword 
 instead of raising it, and making a furious cross cut, 
 struck Sacramoro on the right cheek-piece of his helmet 
 with such force that he was knocked clean off his horse, 
 and had to be carried off to the red tent with a broken 
 jaw, and little more than alive. 
 
 On this, hearing Ottorino's battle-cry of San Am- 
 brogio, the defeated party took heart, while their hitherto 
 victorious adversaries lost courage and began to give 
 way. Our young hero, meanwhile, dealt sweeping blows 
 around with loud shouts, and was well supported by his 
 companions to the utmost of their power. In an instant 
 the whole aspect of affairs was changed ; two more of 
 the red faction were unhorsed, while those who still kept 
 in their saddles, deprived of their leader as a rallying 
 point, wandered about the lists in disorder, continually 
 pursued and wounded by their adversaries ; and as it 
 was now plain that all further defence was useless, the 
 Viceroy gave the signal, the trumpets sounded, and the 
 tournament came to an end. 
 
 While the crowd outside was uttering various cries, 
 clapping their hands, and throwing hats and handker- 
 chiefs into the air, by way of applause and welcome to 
 the victorious party, seven or eight of the heralds and 
 umpires were seen to ride at full speed after one of the 
 red knights, and drive him out of the lists with the butt- 
 end of a lance ; a punishment always inflicted, according 
 to the laws of the tourney, on any one who did not at 
 once cease fighting, when the signal was given 
 
 Such of the combatants as were able to sit upright in
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 229 
 
 their saddles, or stand on their legs, presented them- 
 selves one by one, as their names were called out bj a 
 herald, before the judges' box, and according to the tes- 
 timony borne by the various officials of the tourney, it 
 was adjudged that all had comported themselves like 
 good and loyal knights ; two only excepted, one of the 
 white faction, who was charged with having run his 
 lance into his adversary's thigh, which was a foul 
 stroke, as not having been placed between the four 
 limbs, as the saying ran ; and the other, one of the red 
 faction, accused of having wounded a horse. As to the 
 first, however, he was cleared from blame by the very 
 man who had received the wound, who proved that the 
 thrust was really aimed at his shield, but that the lance- 
 head glanced off and struck a different part from what 
 was evidently intended. The other managed to escape 
 by getting one of the clerks of the course to swear that 
 his competitor's horse raised its head just as he was 
 delivering his sword cut. 
 
 The last names called were those of the men in the 
 tents, of whom there were ten ; seven wounded, and 
 three dead — and it was decided that they had all com- 
 ported themselves in a worthy and valiant manner. 
 
 But the most unlucky of all the wounded men, with- 
 out having received very serious maltreatment, was our 
 friend Bronzino Caimo, the hero of the bandaged eye. 
 At the first encounter, a lance point penetrated through 
 the opening left in the visor to see through, right into 
 the unbandaged eye, which was the only one he could 
 use. So being thus blinded and unhorsed, he was led 
 off to the tent, where nothing could induce him to allow 
 the bandage to be removed from the other eye, which 
 still remained sound. The matter was then referred to 
 the judges, who did not know how to settle it ; and for 
 some time afterwards it afforded a subject for hot and 
 acrimonious discussion among the knights and ladies, 
 who called it a pretty question — just as we sometimes 
 hear a barrister say, this is a splendid case — or a doctor, 
 this is an interesting disease. Every view of the case 
 had its ardent supporters ; they quoted the Roman and
 
 230 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 Mosaic Laws, Latin and Proven9al authorities, propliets 
 and romance winters, philosophers and troubadoui-s, ad- 
 ducing precedents drawn from the histories of the seven 
 sons of Ammon, of Amadis de Gaul, of Girone il Cortese, 
 and in fact, of every famous paladin of England or 
 France that ever existed. The question was laid before 
 all the principal Courts of Love in different cities of 
 Europe, and was decided in all sorts of ways, till on a 
 final appeal to the Supreme Court of Provence, after 
 the subject had been solemnly and exhaustively argued 
 by divers learned pundits, sentence was at last given in 
 favour of Caimo's eye, namely, that he might be allowed 
 to unbandage it. So after about three years, during 
 which time he had remained totally blind, our timorous 
 lover at last removed the fatal bandage and saw daylight 
 again ; on which he returned to his former avocation of 
 trying to unhorse his third knight in fulfilment of his 
 vow (see how constant they were in those good old 
 times). At last, by good luck, he knocked his man 
 over. What joy ! But you will hardly believe that his 
 wretch of a mistress, who did not care to be attended 
 by a one-eyed lover, got off on another tack, and told 
 him coolly, that his promise was, not to appear in her 
 presence again but with two eyes open, and as he now 
 had but one, she did not want to see him again. 
 
 But let us return to the lists. The novice knights, 
 according to the laws of the tourney, presented the 
 heralds of the camp with the helmets they had worn in 
 the field ; but here arose a new difiiculty, inasmuch as 
 one of the said novices had broken a lance in a passnge 
 of arms held at Como a short time before, and there 
 were some who pretended that he was not required to 
 give his helmet to the heralds, as this was not his first 
 feat of arms. It was however decided that the helmet 
 was due, because the combat in which he had taken part 
 before was only a skirmish, that is, a joust, in which the 
 sword was not used ; and the famous maxim was now 
 enunciated with respect to jousts and tourneys, that the 
 sword frees the lance, but not the lance the sword. 
 
 The white faction were declared to be the victors, and
 
 MARCO VISCONTI, 231 
 
 the votes having been collected not only of the judges 
 and officers of the tournament, but also of the ladies 
 and damsels, it was decided that Ottorino had proved 
 himself the most valiant knight, and the prize was 
 adjudged to him — viz., a white charger, with white 
 trappings, and a silver helmet and shield, and so the 
 day's work came to an end. 
 
 Our armourer's wife was so delighted, and so proud 
 of the renown of such a noble-looking young man, as 
 she called him, that she never ceased talking of him, till 
 at last her long-suffering husband began to grumble and 
 fume, and almost to swear at her.
 
 232 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 CHAPTER XYIIL 
 
 THE news o£ the tournament and its results was 
 brought to the Count Balzo that evening by the 
 advocate Lorenzo Garbagnate. Beatrice, who felt half 
 dead with the fright of the night before, and the misery 
 of the whole of that day spent in conjuring up all 
 possible dangers for Ottorino, listened with intense 
 anxiety to every word, and derived new life from what 
 she heard ; like a flower, which drooping from the heat 
 of the previous day, raises its head when revived by the 
 fresh dew of the morning. But when she heard how 
 the young conqueror, after his victory, reverently kissed 
 a blue riband hanging from his side, as a proof that the 
 thought of his lady had mainly contributed to his 
 success, the girl, full of love for him, and fairly broken 
 down by her joy, withdrew a little from the crowd, and 
 covering her face with her hands, gave full vent to her 
 tears. After her return to the company, she often that 
 evening felt her cheeks tingle at hearing the beloved 
 name in every one's mouth ; and murmuring to herself, 
 "He is mine!" her bosom swelled with maidenly ex- 
 ultation. 
 
 With all this, she could not help ever and anon look- 
 ing at the dark side of the picture, remembering, as she 
 did, how her father had forbidden her ever to see her 
 lover again, and feeling sure that must be on account of 
 Marco ; but these fancies soon vanished before the ful- 
 ness of her joy, like summer mists before the rising sun. 
 Proud in the consciousness of loving and being loved by 
 one now so renowned, she felt just then as if misfortune 
 was impossible ; hope told its flattering tale to the 
 maiden's willing ears, and a thousand gilded castles in 
 the air floated before her imagination.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 233 
 
 The knigMs and ladies assembled that evening at 
 the Count's house, were greatly surprised at his non- 
 appearance at the tournament ; and in the course of 
 conversation allusion was made to Bronzino Caimo's 
 eye, in the hope that it would afford an opportunity to 
 the Count of indulging in his favourite pastime of 
 arguing and laying down the law ; but unluckily his 
 thoughts were so absorbed in other matters that he did 
 not rise to the bait. 
 
 Marco's face seemed ever rising up before him ; his 
 words were ever ringing in his ears ; in fact, so over- 
 whelmed was the poor man by the idea of Marco's 
 omnipresence, that he was utterly incapable of sharing 
 his daughter's delight at Ottorino's victory. 
 
 But by degrees his spirit and courage began to return, 
 and soon after an event occurred that finally dissipated 
 the dark clouds that still hung over him. This was the 
 arrival of an old baron of his acquaintance, who took 
 him aside at once, and informed him that the Viceroy 
 had been inquiring for him. Some of us may have seen 
 a poor jaded horse with downcast head and drooping 
 ears, who can scarce be forced along by dint of lash and 
 spur, when suddenly the driver deals him a couple of 
 kicks on some old sore, and off he goes like a two-year- 
 old. Just so the start the Count gave as this unexpected 
 news changed the current of his thoughts, and at the 
 same time his whole demeanour. 
 
 "What! did he really ask for me?" anxiously in- 
 quired the vain, timid man. 
 
 " He wanted to know where you were." 
 
 " But what was his actual expression ? " 
 
 " He asked why you were not at the tournament ? " 
 
 " Then I must certainly attend the joust to-morrow ; 
 that is the day fixed for it, is it not ? " 
 
 " Yes, the jousting is to take place the second day, 
 and I think you had Ijetter go ; for if not, perhaps, you 
 understand as you are such a friend of Marco's, it might 
 be thought possibly that you are not friendly to the 
 Viceroy." 
 
 " How ! what do you mean ? "
 
 234 MARCO TISCONTI. 
 
 " Oh nothing in particular ; but everyone knows that 
 between Marco and the Viceroy there is no love lost." 
 • " I know nothing of that ; I am a friend to all, and 
 wish to live at peace with everybody." 
 
 " That is just why you must go to-morrow ; it is a 
 fete to celebrate the appointment of Azzone ; and if he 
 happened to ask for you again, and found you were not 
 there—" 
 
 " Oh, I will come, you may depend upon it." 
 
 And, sure enough, the next day he appeared before 
 anyone else in a balcony hard by the Viceroy's box ; the 
 lists had not yet been put in order, nor had the com- 
 batants arrived, but there stood the Count as large as 
 life, with his daughter and a large suite of squires and 
 pages. 
 
 When the Viceroy and his two uncles showed them- 
 selves in their box, the Count tried to attract their 
 attention by taking off his hat, bowing and waving his 
 hand, but no one took any notice of him, or seemed to 
 distinguish between his civilities and those of the rest 
 of the spectators, which struck him as somewhat strange. 
 When they were all seated, he kept wagging his parti- 
 coloured beard, winking his little grey eyes, and chatter- 
 ing as loud as he could in his harsh cracked voice, in 
 order to attract attention ; but every one seemed ab- 
 sorbed in watching a couple of dogs which ran howling 
 round the arena, and this did not materially improve his 
 temper. 
 
 The joust now commenced ; several knights came 
 forward to touch the different shields hanging up near 
 the pavilions of the champions. A number of single 
 combats then took place, but nothing occurred worthy 
 of notice ; some of the knights ran a tilt in the air, 
 others lost a stirrup, and so on. 
 
 Ottorino was not once summoned into the lists, for 
 after his exploits of the previous day, no one cared to 
 measure weapons with him. 
 
 The spectacle had now lasted two hours, and was 
 becoming so dull that the lookers-on were quite weary 
 and disgusted with it, and soon began to grumble and
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 235 
 
 curse the kniglits for not having the courtesy to show 
 sport. An Italian mob is usually good humoured 
 enough, and easily managed, so long as no one interferes 
 with its amusements ; if you do, you will soon find the 
 beast has claws and can use them. 
 
 It having now become necessary to appease the many- 
 headed, unruly monster, the heralds came forward crying 
 out that the joust would now cease, and proclaimed a 
 big or do ; such being the name given to an assault on a 
 bastion or wooden castle, which was one of the favourite 
 military spectacles of the time. But just as they were 
 about to utter the formula used to put an end to all 
 challenges, the sound of a horn was heard issuing from 
 a wood close by. The spectators knew that this por- 
 tended the entrance of a new knight into the lists — and 
 they were not mistaken ; for, after a short interval of 
 silence, there entered through the banners a tall large 
 man, with his visor down, clad cap-a-pie in steel armour, 
 but colourless, and' devoid of any ornament or device ; 
 he bestrode a large coal-black stallion, with a white star 
 on its forehead, and three white stockings. 
 
 The new comer had suspended on his saddle-bow a 
 shield, as smooth and plain as the rest of his armour, 
 but behind him rode a squire with another buckler, 
 covered with soml^re-coloured silk as a badge of mourn- 
 ing. This latter individual, leaving his master at the 
 end of the lists next the wood, crossed the ground to 
 convey the shield to the judges' tent, which was pitched 
 on the opposite side. The judges were bound by a 
 solemn oath never, on any pretence, to reveal the secret 
 of any knight who might wish to fight incognito, but 
 they were equally obliged to examine his coat-of-arms, 
 and determine whether he deserved the honour of mea- 
 suring weapons with the other champions. 
 
 While this was going on, an uneasy and inquisitive 
 feeling ran through the expectant crowd, which showed 
 itself in a continual buzz of voices in an undertone. 
 This ceased -as the squire entered the judges' tent, and 
 was succeeded by a no less eager silence. 
 
 Shortly after the judges came out with the buckler of
 
 236 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 the unknown knight, which had been again covered up ; 
 and after hanging it on the head of a lance fixed in the 
 ground, they did obeisance to it, and gave the sign to a 
 herald, who cried, with a loud voice, " Sir knight, you 
 are free of the lists." 
 
 This permission obtained, then the unknown knight 
 passed down the enclosure at a foot's pace till he came 
 to the tent of the keepers of the Usts, when, stopping 
 before Ottorino's shield, instead of touching it, as usual, 
 with his lance, he pulled it down from its place and 
 threw it on the ground ; he then hung it up again, but 
 topsy-turvy, which was the greatest insult that could be 
 offered to a knight, and meant a challenge in tutto 
 transito, or in other words, to mortal combat. 
 
 Various reports now began to circulate amongst the 
 spectators, who had watched these proceedings atten- 
 tively, well aware of their import. Vague guesses were 
 made as to who the challenger could be, and what was 
 the cause of such violent hatred. The older men said 
 that the Viceroy ought not to have permitted the chal- 
 lenge, while the young men exclaimed that it would 
 have been outrageous to have prevented it. Not a few 
 trembled for Ottorino, while others among his partisans 
 were glad that he had a chance afforded him of distin- 
 guishing himself afresh. Others again, envious of his 
 fame, rejoiced in secret over the mysterious peril that 
 threatened him, and hoped to see the lowering of a 
 renown that threw their own vanity into the shade ; 
 while the mass of the bystanders, tired of doing nothing, 
 and utterly indifferent to either party, were glad they 
 were going at last to have something fresh to look at. 
 
 But what must have been poor Beatrice's feelings all 
 this time ? She who at the commencement of the tour- 
 nament, while the combatants were engaged in striking 
 each other's shields, half wished, half dreaded, that Otto- 
 rino's shield should be touched, gradually regained her 
 composure, at seeing so many bloodless assaults, and at 
 last ardently wished for some occasion for her knight to 
 show off his prowess ; although not without some mis- 
 givings, she already felt a foretaste of his victory, antici-
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 237 
 
 pating tlie congratulations of the knights and ladies, and 
 lier father's silent, but ill-dissembled surprise. But 
 when she heard the blast of the trumpet, and saw the 
 unknown knight arrive, she was stinick with a secret 
 foreboding, and trembled from head to foot, as she 
 seemed to hear a voice within her crying out, " Woe to 
 thy betrothed ! " So while this terrible knight was cross- 
 ing the lists and drawing near the pavilion, she kept 
 looking at him with the panic fear of a child, who thinks 
 he sees a ghost coming slowly at him in the dark ; eveiy 
 step he took seemed to take away a bit of her life ; when 
 he arrived at the extremity of the lists, she could scarcel}^ 
 draw her breath, and when she heard the shield fall to 
 the ground, her eyes swam, and she hardly felt in her 
 senses. 
 
 Her father observing this, and wishing to get her 
 away from so sevei'e a trial, took her by the arm and 
 tried to persuade her to leave the scene ; but the wretched 
 girl, thinking it was better to see the affair out with her 
 own eyes, than to wait at a distance for news of the 
 result, with a mind ever expecting the worst, refused to 
 follow him. 
 
 " Do you not know whom the person challenged is ? " 
 said the Count in an agitated voice. 
 
 " I do, it is Ottorino," replied the girl, resolutely, as 
 she had now recovered herself, and remained firm to her 
 determination. 
 
 "But the arms," stammered her father; "but the 
 challenge — " 
 
 " The arms are pointed and edged," replied Beatrice, 
 gathering courage from despair. " The challenge is to 
 mortal combat, I saw it all ; but I will not stir from 
 here." 
 
 Meanwhile Ottorino had issued from the tent armed 
 cap-à-fie ; he came up to his charger, which Lupo held 
 for him, placed one hand on the saddle-bow, and heavily 
 weighted as he was', with one spring vaulted clean into 
 his saddle. 
 
 The umpires then brought two pointed lances, with 
 ponderous oaken shafts bound with silver rings and iron
 
 238 MARCO TISCONTI. 
 
 butts ; and having carefully examined tliem to make 
 sure that they were exactly alike in every respect, they 
 presented one to each of the combatants, ordering them 
 at the same time to make the circuit of the arena. 
 
 The two competitors riding side by side, each with 
 hie squire behind him, now began to look around them, 
 as they passed the barrier in front of the spectators. 
 The unknown knight, thoroughly concealed by his 
 ai'mour, guided with a gay and careless air his powerful 
 charger, which excited by the shouts of applause, kept 
 rearing and plunging, and champed impetuously its 
 foaming bit ; its rider meanwhile maintaining a firm 
 and upright seat in his saddle, with a stern majestic 
 carriage which was not however devoid of natural 
 grace. 
 
 Lupo, who rode a little behind him, was awe-struck 
 at the magnificent breadth of his shoulders, the fine 
 proportions of his limbs, and his proud, noble bearing, 
 and could not help feeling some apprehension for his 
 master's safety. On a closer observation of his armour 
 he observed that the visor of the helmet was nailed dmvn, 
 and recognised it as having been purchased the day 
 before at the shop by the old man with the maroon- 
 coloured robe. 
 
 Ottorino cantered along by the side of his gigantic 
 opponent, with his visor up, which displayed the clusters 
 of black hair playing about his fine open countenance. 
 He bestrode a beautiful chestnut jennet from Andalusia, 
 which, though not so massive and formidable as his 
 antagonist's charger, yet was full of fire and intelligence, 
 and obeyed at once his master's slightest sign, whether 
 of hand or voice. His rider managed him with great 
 skill, making him prance and curvet so gracefully as 
 they moved along, that you would suppose they were 
 going to a review or carousal, rather than preparing for 
 mortal combat. 
 
 On arriving opposite Count Balzo's box, Ottorino 
 courteously saluted both father and daiighter, but the 
 former scarcely seemed to see him, and even Beatrice 
 only responded with a shy and fugitive glance, for at
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 239 
 
 that moment, as if urged by an evil genius, she could 
 not take her eyes off his mysterious adversary. As she 
 looked at his sharp and glittering lance-head,- she seemed 
 to feel the cold steel in her own heart, and kept her eyes 
 upon it, as if she vrished to mesmerize its influence. 
 
 The unknown challenger, who had ridden with his 
 eyes straight before him, inclined his head slightly 
 towards the gallery where the Count was sitting. 
 
 When the combatants had completed the circuit, the 
 ground was cleared for the contest, and the earth and 
 sun, as the saying was, were equally divided between 
 them; that is, they were placed opposite each other «in 
 such a position as to be both equi- distant from the centre 
 of the arena, and so that the sun's rays should shine at 
 equal advantage and disadvantage for both of them. 
 
 The immense crowd in the boxes, or close to the 
 barrier, or else perched on benches and temporary stands 
 in the rear, or on trees and housetops in the further dis- 
 tance, awaited the combat in silence. Not a heart was 
 there that did not palpitate with impatience, envy, hope, 
 or fear ; and the trumpets were about to give the signal, 
 when an event took place that all but overthrew the 
 tottering power of Azzone. 
 
 Lupo, who stood behind Ottorino, taking a chance 
 motion of the Viceroy's hand for a signal for the assault, 
 cried out in a voice loud enough to be heard all over the 
 arena, " Viva Marco Visconti ! " which was his master's 
 ordinary war cry, who hearing it, lifted his gauntleted 
 hand and repeated it himself. However, neither he nor 
 his opponent attempted to move, as they had not yet 
 heard the trumpet sound ; but the spectators, most of 
 Avhom were secret adherents of the Visconti faction, and 
 had a hazy idea that there was something in the wind, 
 supposed that that cry was a preconcerted signal for a 
 rising against the Viceroy. In an instant thousands of 
 voices took it up from all directions, while numbers 
 felt for their arms, and collected in groups, asking what 
 it all meant, and looking round to find some leader as a 
 rallying point. If Marco had shown himself to them 
 just then, all would have been over. The small body-
 
 240 MAKCO YISCONTI. 
 
 guard of the Viceroy drew tog-ether around his box, 
 and for a moment both he and his two uncles, Luchino 
 ^.nd Giovanni gave themselves up for lost. 
 
 While the tumult was at its height, the great unknown, 
 vvho had never moved from his post, raised his hand to 
 his helmet, and seemed to be trying to raise his visor, as 
 if forgetting that it was nailed down ; but the movement 
 must have been involuntary, as he lowered his arm at 
 once, and placing his closed fist on his iron thigh-piece, 
 he stood contemplating the stoi-my scene through the 
 eyelet holes of his helmet. 
 
 Meanwhile the heralds and officials of the tournament 
 ran about crying out to the people to keep silence, and 
 go back to their places ; till by degrees the tempest be- 
 gan to blow over, and at last passed off altogether ; the 
 fierce young men, who were all eagerness for the fray, 
 the timid ones who did not wish to stay and be caught 
 in the crowd, and the gapers, who made more noise 
 than any one else, and formed the majority, at last 
 returned to their places, some grumbling, some laughing, 
 and all asking what had been the matter. 
 
 When silence was restored, the trumpets sounded, and 
 t,ie two combatants advanced towai'ds each other, with 
 their heads bent down behind their shields, leaving 
 nothing visible but their eyes. 
 
 But the unknown knight, who intended to strike a 
 dexterous blow with his lance at the first onset, instead 
 of spurring his horse and urging him on at easy pace, 
 put him at once into a mad gallop, and when he came 
 within reach he presented his shield sideways to his 
 adversary, who attacked him with such fury, that the 
 lance, on striking it, glided off from the polished steel 
 mthout leaving any mark, and merely grazed his side 
 in passing ; while he himself, looking fixedly at the blue 
 scarf which Ottorino wore that day over his shoulder, 
 ran it through with his lance and succeeded in pulling 
 it right off his back. 
 
 This preconcerted and masterly stroke was not pro- 
 perly understood by the spectators, who, supposing it 
 was done by accident, began to gmmble as if it had
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 241 
 
 been a foul blow. But the two competitors no sooner 
 had passed each other than they wheeled their horses 
 round, on arriving at the point whence they had origi- 
 nally started respectively, and again furiously charged 
 each other. The unknown knight came on this time at 
 full speed, and pressed his knees so tightly into his 
 charger's flanks, that it could scarcely breathe. When 
 they came together, Ottorino broke his lance on the 
 edge of his adversary's shield, who did not move in his 
 saddle, but struck the young man straight on the visor 
 with such force that he felled him to the ground a whole 
 lance's length from his horse, which, feeling the load off 
 his croup, stopped all of a sudden and looked round, as 
 if expecting his master to remount. But his unlucky 
 master lay on his back on the sand without a sign of life. 
 Lupo at once leapt from his horse, tremblingly opened 
 his visor, and found blood flowing from his nose, mouth 
 and ears. Two attendants came out, took off his helmet, 
 and carried him in their arms to the tent ; his legs were 
 hanging loose, and his head swung about at every step, 
 with his bloodstained locks floating in the wind. 
 
 In a few moments a herald came out of the pavilion 
 and exclaimed that Ottorino was alive. 
 
 On this the victor, who, still ensconced in his helmet, 
 had accompanied the wounded man to the tent, and had 
 remained near at hand ever since he saw him go in, 
 raised his hand to Heaven, and sat upright in his saddle 
 in an attitude signifying his delight at heariag the an- 
 nouncement ; then throwing down his lance, he set spurs 
 to his horse, and galloped out of the lists into the wood 
 whence he had come. His squire, having taken the 
 shield with the lance to which it was fastened, carried 
 it behind him. 
 
 When the lance thrown down by the knight who had 
 disappeared, was picked up, it was found that the iron 
 head was broken off. Most people thought that this had 
 been done in the encounter, but there was one man who 
 had noticed that the unknown knight, on first hearing 
 his adversary call out, " Viva Marco," had gone up to 
 one of the boxes, stuck his lance head between two
 
 242 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 boards and using the shaft as a lever, had broken it off 
 halfwaj. 
 
 Everybody agreed that if the lance had been whole, 
 the force of the blow was such, that it would have pierced 
 the visor, and gone right through the head of the 
 wounded man.
 
 MARCO YISCONTI. 243 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 HERE we must suppose a monlh to have elapsed ; 
 and we will transfer the scene of our storj to the 
 city of Lucca, which had in the meantime become sub- 
 ject to Marco Visconti. 
 
 The Emperor, forced to abandon Tuscany, as his own 
 schemes and those of the Antipope had all failed, before 
 finally taking leave, had endeavoured to wring all the 
 profits he could out of that country ; and among other 
 fine plans, one of the most feasible had been to sell 
 cities friendly to him for ready money. This amiable 
 scheme was especially applied to Lucca. The faithless 
 Bavarian had taken it away from the sons of Castruccio, 
 his powerful partizan, in order to give it to Francesco 
 Castracani degi'Interminelli, who paid in ready money 
 for it, a wonderful number of thousands of gold florins. 
 But the people of Lucca, who did not approve of having 
 been bought and sold like a flock of sheep, deserted the 
 Emperor's cause, and had thrown themselves upon 
 Marco's protection, who had arrived some time before 
 at CerugHo, and had gained over that band of revolted 
 Germans, so that he was at leisure, and able to make 
 what use of them he liked. Visconti arrived with six 
 hundred soldiers to aid those of Lucca, sent Castracani 
 to the right about, and was elected himself lord and 
 captain of the city which he had delivered from an 
 odious yoke ; of a city which gave itself up willingly to 
 a prince of illustrious birth, of distinguisheel reputation, 
 who had been a close friend of the famous Castruccio, 
 under whose government Lucca had become so powerful 
 and formidable. 
 
 The sixth day since that event had now arrived. 
 Marco was still employing his followers in receiving the
 
 244 MARCO TISCONTI. 
 
 voluntary submissions of many of the estates and castles 
 around, and in overrunning, devastating, and burning 
 tliose that had refused obedience ; and already he had 
 entered into a new compact with Count Fazio, to com- 
 m.ence at Pisa the same game he had played at Lucca, 
 and to take that city out of the hand of Messer Tarlatino 
 di Pietra Mala, to whom the Bavarian had given it up. 
 
 The morning of the sixth day he had spent in receiving 
 and despatching messages to the potentates and munici- 
 palities of Tuscany and Romagna, who were looking on 
 with varying feelings of envy, fear, and hope at the rise 
 of the new prince, whose hidden intentions it was so 
 difficult to devise. The rest of the day was passed in 
 rejoicings and receiving homage, which the multitude is 
 never loth to accord in the case of a new power. His 
 ears still rang with their acclamations, which had echoed 
 through the streets of Lucca, as he had passed through 
 on horseback, followed by the chief men in the city and 
 those of the different trades, on his way to the Church of 
 San Martino, to worship the Volto Santo. 
 
 It was now late, and having taken leave of the coun- 
 sellors and nobility of his new Court, Visconti was 
 pacing up and down a vast hall in the palazzo of the 
 municipality, inhabited a few months before by his cele- 
 brated friend Castrnccio."* He turned his eyes from time 
 to time towards a Gothic window which looked on the 
 square, from whence he could see towers and domes 
 shining with a brilliant light ; far below, in the square, 
 a bonfire spread abroad a red and flickering flame over 
 the people who swarmed around, feasting, revelling, and 
 singing lays and ballads in praise of the new chieftain ; 
 further away, on the hill-tops, many beacons were lighted, 
 and everywhere might be heard a concert of bells chiming 
 merrily. 
 
 Marco stopped for a moment to gaze on this spectacle 
 — as a bridegroom might contemplate at a festival, the 
 gay and sparkling beauty of his young bride the first day 
 
 * For the Life of Castruccio Castracani, see " Machiavelli Istorie 
 Fiorentine," Vol. I., pp. 131, ei! seq.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 245 
 
 of liis nuptials ; and then turning from the window he 
 raised his eyes to a picture of Castruccio, which hung on 
 the wall above the chimney, and this sight spoilt all his 
 pleasure and dispersed the enchantment. He approached 
 a couch, sat down, and then still gazing on the image of 
 his friend, alive such a short time before, he said to 
 himself : 
 
 " At Rome, when he was the right hand of the Em- 
 peror, full of life and vigour ; when all the Guelph 
 cities, and King Robert, and the Pope, trembled at his 
 name ; when I was so proud of being his friend, and 
 hoped by his help to obtain the lordship of Milan ; sup- 
 pose a soothsayer had come to him, and said : ' Cas- 
 truccio, in a few months all will be over, and you will be 
 under the earth ! ' What an announcement to one fresh 
 in age and strength, in the prime of his power ! Yet life 
 is uncertain and frail, and he, of course, knew himself to 
 be mortal ; but if that conjuror had gone on to say : 
 ' Do you see him who stands at your side ? The man 
 whom you honour and esteem as a brother : this same 
 Marco who has done all in his power to aid you to rise 
 to the height at which you are : do you mark him ? 
 Now know that he before long will be lord in your city, 
 that your house will be his, and that your widow and 
 your sons will be wandering from land to land, seeking 
 an asylum which will be denied them, and he will obtain 
 their inheritance.' Oh, what would that proud spirit 
 have answered ? What would have been his feelings ? 
 and what should I have said ? How can one reckon on 
 the future ? What a pocr creature man is ! An illus-. 
 trious and powerful city falls into my lap in one moment, 
 while the efforts of so many years to make myself master 
 of another, which flies from me like a phantom, are vain. 
 Is it not like an enthusiast, who, while seeking to dis- 
 cover gold by alchemy, comes by chance on some mar- 
 vellous secret of nature of which he had never dreamt 
 before ? " 
 
 He went again to the window, remaining some time 
 there looking down upon the square and all around, and 
 then exclaimed :
 
 246 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 " Lucca is a splendid city ! — Imt it is not Milan," he 
 added, with a sigh. " To be chief there, where I was 
 only a subject, to command where I was used to obey, to 
 be powerful there among friends who rejoice in one's 
 greatness, to be helped by them — yes, and also to be in 
 the midst of your enemies, and see them gnash their 
 teeth, and to triumph in their humiliation— that is life ! 
 Here there are smiling- hills clad with vines and oUves, 
 splendid knights, gay ladies, riches, polite manners ; but 
 these have no charm for Marco's heart ! " 
 
 While such thoughts were passing through his mind, 
 the people, who saw him standing behind the glass win- 
 dow, crowded beneath, shouting : " Long live Marco ! " 
 The train of his thoughts being broken by this noise, he 
 bowed in answer, and waved his hand courteously, then 
 withdrew impatiently, and going into the next room, he 
 exclaimed to himself : 
 
 " Stupid, senseless people ! You are afraid, I suppose, 
 lest you should find yourselves without a master. ' Long 
 live Marco ! ' and what do you hope from your Marco ? 
 and who is he ? and how do you know that he is able to 
 do, or wishes to do, what you hope for ? What rejoicings 
 are going on ! They would be enough to celebrate the 
 victory of Altopascio.* Oh who can trust in your fickle 
 applause ? It would once have intoxicated me, but now 
 I know how short is the interval between Palm Sunday 
 and Good Friday ; between the ' Hosannah ' and the 
 'crucifige.' " 
 
 Apagenowapproached the door, and on obtaining leave, 
 came forward with a very low bow, and gave to Marco a 
 packet of letters, saying : 
 
 " Despatches from Lombardy. The courier is below 
 in the red saloon : he says he is a retainer of yours, and 
 is called Pelagrua." 
 
 " Let him wait," replied Marco, dismissing the page 
 with a gesture. 
 
 He then approached a lamp, and began to look over 
 the superscriptions of the letters, throwing them down 
 
 * INIacliiavelli Isterie Fiorentine," Vol. I., p. l.'U.
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 247 
 
 one by one on a table, as he recognised by the handwriting 
 from whom they came. At last he came upon one, the 
 sight of which caused him to start with surprise, ring a 
 silver bell, and ask the page, who appeared instantly : 
 
 " These were not all brought by one messenger ? " 
 pointing to the letters. 
 
 " All by your retainer," answered the page ; " except 
 one which was left at the palace by a courier, who 
 immediately pursued his journey on the way to Rome." 
 
 "Very well," said Marco, and the boy went away. 
 
 Then Visconti, throwing on the table the last letter, 
 which he had retained till then, said to himself with a 
 bitter sneer : " My magnificent nephew ! Is not this a 
 piece of condescension ? " and then taking up one of the 
 letters he had first glanced over, he opened it, and began 
 to read it. It was from Lodrisio, his counsellor. Since 
 the day when Marco had left Milan, this individual had 
 constantly been keeping him informed of everything 
 that had happened. Every week a courier was on the 
 road with his letters and Marco's replies written in 
 cipher, as had been agreed between them, to conduct 
 their intrigues, and to shape their behaviour according 
 to passing events. 
 
 As soon as it became known that the Emperor was 
 turning towards Lombardy, Lodrisio began to entreat 
 Marco to follow him with the rebel Grermans from 
 Ceruglio, and fall on the rear of the Imperial army — a 
 plan which he had already himself conceived — while 
 Lodrisio undertook to raise Milan, and to go out to meet 
 him with the city troops, who were always ill-affected 
 towards Azzone, and did not wish on any account to re- 
 ceive the famished and thievish troops of the deceitful 
 Emperor. But at that time Marco was not his own 
 master. The rebel soldiers of the Ceruglio were not yet 
 so entirely won over that he could feel safe in leading 
 them to fight against the person of their natural sove- 
 reign ; and, on the other hand, he had already some idea 
 of the affair at Lucca, which, at that time, he only looked 
 upon as a means of procuring a large sum of money, to 
 spend in making the Grermans more docile and obedient.
 
 248 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 But, as often happens in tlie affairs of this world, that 
 moment having been lost, when all was ripe — a critical 
 moment, which should have been caught flying — the 
 face of things had very much changed ; unexpected 
 chances had arisen which no one could foresee, because 
 they were not brought about by human counsel, which 
 had destroyed in Milan all the machinery of the con- 
 spiracy. 
 
 The enthusiastic affection which the populace had felt 
 for Marco was by degrees diminishing, now that he was 
 no lono-er dividinar amonof them his largresses, and that 
 he was not seen riding about Milan as before ; handsome, 
 noble, and courteous, in the midst of a splendid retinue 
 of knights and squires ; they no longer heard accounts 
 of his banquets ; his pungent, witty remarks, treasured 
 up by his intimate friends, no longer passed from mouth 
 to mouth, till they became proverbs among the lower 
 classes. 
 
 The chief among the Lombard cities who favoured 
 him secretly were also discouraged by seeing things 
 going so badly without his taking any decided part, and 
 there were many who for some time had not been too 
 well pleased with certain eccentricities in which Marco 
 had indulged since he had plunged into that frenzy of 
 love, the cause of which was still unknown, but of which 
 some new proof appeared every day. 
 
 He still received great assistance from the ecclesiastics 
 sent by Pope Giovanni to support his cause ; but they at 
 the same time, when they saw that their ally did not stir 
 from Ceruglio, and that in the meantime the Bavarian 
 was advancing- by forced marches towardy Lombardy, 
 felt the necessity of making friends with the other side, 
 if they did not intend the cause of the Church to be en- 
 tirely ruined in those parts, and themselves to fall into 
 the hands of Azzone ; who, if insulted when he was 
 weak, would revenge himself as soon as he found himself 
 strengthened by the forces of the Emperor. 
 
 The ecclesiastics found it very easy to attach them- 
 selves to the new cause, for if the future was dark for 
 them, it was not much clearer for Azzone. He had
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 249 
 
 heard that the emperor was advancing towards Lom- 
 bardy with an undisciplined and mutinons army, in a 
 state of supreme indignation with him, partly because he 
 had not yet paid in full the sum promised for his investi- 
 ture, and partly because he suspected that he was in 
 league with Marco to prevent the people of Ceruglio 
 from returning to their allegiance. So the new lord of 
 Milan trembled, as did also his two uncles Luchino and 
 Giovanni, before that angry, avaricious, faithless man, 
 who had betrayed all the Ghibellines of Italy, and had 
 caused the Visconti to pine for many months in the 
 prisons of Monza ; and they could not bear the thought 
 of being again in his power. 
 
 In such a state of aSairs a reconciliation was easy 
 enough. In fact Azzone made the first overtures to- 
 wards the clergy, let fall a few words of submission, and 
 they received him with open arms. His first step was 
 to declare positively against the Bavarian, and to do his 
 best to wrest the territory from him. In this way the 
 new lord of Milan found his safety in the very means 
 that had been prepared for his ruin ; for having formed 
 an alliance with the Chui'ch, all the forces, which so 
 long had been exerted against him, were now suddenly 
 ready to his hand for his defence. 
 
 Marco had been kept informed of all these events from 
 the beginning : Lodrisio's letter told him how Milan was 
 fortifying herself in all possible haste and excitement to 
 resist the emperor ; how Monza, Lodi, and many other 
 cities and fortresses, had sent word that they would 
 suffer themselves to be destroyed to their foundations 
 rather than open their gates ; and that, as to their own 
 intrigues, this was not the time to go on with them, for 
 now all parties had assembled round Azzone to resist the 
 common enemy. He advised Marco to remain in readi- 
 ness without declaring for any one, so that if the empe- 
 ror's forces prevailed, he could regain his friendship by 
 restoring to him his troops from Ceruglio, and obtain 
 the viceroyalty of which his nephew would infallibly be 
 deprived, as the penalty of his rebelHon ; and if the 
 Bavarian had the worst of it, he might make a merit
 
 250 MARCO yiSCONTI. 
 
 witli tlie victorious Viceroy, of having restrained the 
 forces from Ceriiglio from falling on him in his straits. 
 
 Lodrisio begged of him to be of good heart, for their 
 plots were not discovered, and the reconciliation between 
 the clergy and the Viceroy was far from being a perfect 
 or sincere one ; and he implored him to keep alive the 
 intrignes with Cardinal Bertrando del Poggetto, with 
 Avignon, and with Floi^ence, in order to be assisted by 
 their forces, to take np again at any future time the 
 threads of the conspiracy, which were now slackened, 
 but not broken. 
 
 When he had finished reading, Marco threw the paper 
 on the table in some displeasure, saying : " "What a future 
 of deceit and hypocrisy! It is a hard school to have 
 been brought up in ! I was not born for this vile age ! 
 Yet — " but without finishing his broken sentences, he 
 opened and read Azzone's letter. The Viceroy informed 
 him also at length of the late events, explained to him 
 the causes which had obliged him to declare against the 
 Bavarian, begged him to employ the Grerman soldiers 
 from Ceruglio, so that they should not reinforce his 
 enemy ; and to forward, by his good offices, the proposals 
 of alliance and protection made to various communes of 
 Tuscany and Romagna ; lastly, he asked him for advice 
 as to the manner of fortifying Milan. 
 
 The other letters from various Lombard nobles were 
 all much to the same effect ; excuses for ha\'ing been 
 obliged by necessity to adhere to Azzone, protestations 
 of fidelity to Marco's cause, all more or less embarrassed, 
 and rather less warm than usual. Marco smiled at see- 
 ing the turns and twists by which his old friends sought 
 to conceal their disloyalty ; he had had too much expe- 
 rience of human nature to feel either anger or surprise. 
 
 " They think I am going down in the world," he said 
 in his heart ; " but when they hear that I am Lord of 
 Lucca, and that these Lombard affairs are settled, they 
 will again cluster round me." 
 
 Then he sent for Pelagrua, who could scarcely recover 
 from his astonishment at finding his master the prince 
 of such a powerful city, when he only expected to find
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 251 
 
 liim at tlie head of some revolted troops in a castle in 
 Val de Nievole, so entering the hall, he made a very low 
 bow, and tried to express surprise and pleasure ; but 
 Visconti cut him short by asking : 
 
 "Did you see Lodrisio before setting off ? " 
 
 "Yes, he gave me himself the letters I brought you." 
 
 " And on what terms is he with the Viceroy ? " 
 
 " On exactly those he wishes to be ; he is in high 
 favour. Only fancy ! he is intrusted with the fortifica- 
 tions of the bridge of Archetto, which they say is on the 
 most important side of the city." 
 
 " Then the Milanese have decided to put a good face 
 on it ? " 
 
 " Yes, and to show their teeth also, and good sharp 
 ones they are." 
 
 " Tell me how they are off for arms." 
 
 " They have emptied all the armourer's shops ; day 
 and night they are working at making pikes and lances ; 
 there will soon be in use six mangonels, eight big swivel- 
 guns, and I do not know how many stondegarde. They 
 are fortifying the bastions, and are placing their big, 
 new, wooden towers ; each gate displays its own banner ; 
 and when the big bell of the Signoria is heard, every one 
 is to hasten to their ward, so that in less than one hour, 
 forty thousand fighting-men can be on the walls." 
 
 On hearing these words, Marco felt quite inspirited, 
 his eyes flashed, his face beamed with gladness and 
 courage. He knew better than any one how this unity 
 of effort and spirit, which animated all the citizens, 
 would, if such a thing were possible, strengthen the 
 popularity of the Viceroy, and disarrange entirely the 
 plots which he had prepared for so long with such sus- 
 tained anxiety ; but the welfare of his native country, 
 the honour of his beloved Milan, were before everything 
 with him. 
 
 " Now attend," he said to his seneschal : " I wish you 
 to tell Lodrisio — I have written also to him, but tell 
 him none the less — that he must take care to strengthen 
 the bastions of the Ticinese Gate, where the mills are 
 close to the Tesinello, so that the city may not want for
 
 262 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 bread ; tliat he must dam up and turn tlie water so as 
 to make it pass under the bridge of San Eustorgio ; and 
 you are to take care that my castle of Rosate be prepared 
 to sustain a siege lest a whim should take the Bavarian 
 to visit it." 
 
 " Then," replied Pelagrua, hesitating, " do you mean 
 to declare yourself openly ? Lodrisio advised me to 
 speak to you — " 
 
 " I have not asked Lodrisio's advice, and still less 
 yours," said Marco, sternly. " I am sending orders to 
 my estates of Martesan and Castel Seprio to furnish 
 Rosate with men and provisions. Pelavicino will com- 
 mand the men, and you must attend to the victualling ; 
 and remember both of you, that you will rue the day if 
 there should be seen in my castle yard the face of an 
 imperial soldier, if only ten of our men are still able to 
 fight, or one bone of the last horse in my stable remains 
 to be gnawed." 
 
 The seneschal hastened to answer that he would not 
 fail to obey one of these commands ; upon which his 
 master signed to him to depart, and he was going oft" ; 
 but he had not yet reached the door, when Marco 
 changed his mind, and called him back, saying : 
 
 " And what news can you give me of Ottorino ? " 
 
 " He has never been seen in Milan since the day you 
 encountered him in the lists. I know, however, on 
 good authority, that he had himself carried to his for- 
 tress of Castelletto, where he spent fifteen or twenty 
 days in recovering ; and now there is a report that he 
 has gone to meet the Bavarian, to enter his service." 
 
 " That is not true ! " said Marco, decidedly. 
 
 " And yet I know," answered Pelagrua, submissively, 
 " that other Milanese have joined the Emperor's troops; 
 among others Giacobino da Landriano, and Uberto Bre- 
 gondio, and Marino Bescape, and — " 
 
 " As many as you like, but not Ottorino, no ; it must 
 be a made-up story, and a vile calumny ! " 
 
 The steward did not venture to answer a word ; 
 Marco, after a moment, asked him more calmly : 
 
 "And Count del Balzo, is he still at Milan ?"
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 253 
 
 " He is at Milan ; lie was very anxious to go away to 
 Limonta as soon as the first runionr arrived of the ap- 
 proach of the Bavarian, and the risk of a siege ; but a 
 proclamation was issued, that no one was to leave the 
 city ; it was feared that if the nobles went off the people 
 would be discouraged." 
 
 "And then, Ottorino," continued Marco, "has he not 
 been seen at the Balzo palace ?" 
 
 " Since the day of the jousting you may feel assured 
 that he has not set foot inside it ; for I must tell you, 
 that in order to fulfil the orders you left with me, I. 
 gained over one of the Count's equenries ; it cost me 
 dear to purchase his good offices, but never mind, he 
 serves me well, and nothing stirs in that house without 
 my hearing of it an hour after." 
 
 Marco did not answer, and his knavish retainer went 
 on : 
 
 " If, however, you wish to make sure, and settle 
 matters — you can trust to me — I know how things are 
 managed. And Lodrisio also charged me to tell you that 
 your rupture with Ottorino cannot fail to bring sus- 
 picion on him — that, in short, the young man knows too 
 much — it's rather risky, and it might be better to silence 
 him." 
 
 Visconti, who perceived to what point these venomous 
 insinuations were leading, answered with a cold smile : 
 
 " Tell Lodrisio that he may set his mind at rest, that 
 I know Ottorino well, and will become security for his 
 fidelity at all times and in all vicissitudes of fortune. 
 He may hate me — he may wish me dead — but betray 
 me — never !" 
 
 " Oh, I never intended — I only said — I will never 
 touch a hair of his head." 
 
 " No, beware of it," replied Marco, and was silent for 
 a moment, hesitating, as one who would continue his 
 speech further, and knew not how best to cloak his 
 meaning. At last he burst out suddenly with this 
 question : 
 
 " And what was said in Milan of the unknown knight 
 who unhorsed Ottorino ? "
 
 254 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 " Plenty was said about him. Some declared it was 
 Rusconi's son, others that he was a knight of King 
 Robert's ; but the wounded boy, as soon as he came to 
 his senses, told some of his friends that there was no 
 one in Italy but you who could strike such a blow as that." 
 
 " But he has not been permanently injured ? he is 
 really recovered, is he not?" asked Visconti, eagerly. 
 
 " There is not even a scar to be seen. He is as active 
 and blooming as ever, so that the Count's daughter will 
 have nothing to complain of." 
 
 " And what news of her ? " interrupted Marco. 
 
 " Of whom ? " 
 
 " Of Bea she of whom you were speaking — the 
 
 Count's daughter." 
 
 " All I know is, that after the joust, for four or five 
 days she was pretty nearly at the point of death ; then 
 her fever returned, and her parents went nearly mad 
 over her, and never left her side, or ceased to nurse her 
 and pet her, till at last they got her round by degrees. 
 She still is, however, in a fractious state — her head 
 stuffed full of spoiled child's fancies ; but they are of 
 no importance." 
 
 Visconti, at hearing his servant talk in such a fa- 
 miliar and jesting manner about a creature to whom his 
 thoughts never turned without a thrill of deep feeling, 
 could not restrain himself, and raising his voice, ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " Take care whom you are speaking of, you insolent 
 hound, or by the Holy Rood, I will give you something 
 to remember it by, of which you will bear the marks as 
 long as you live." 
 
 To say this, to point to the door with one hand, and 
 then to put him out, was the work of an instant. Pela- 
 gi'ua, stammering some words of excuse, went out like 
 a beaten hound ; and while he waited, thinking that his 
 master might send for him again to take leave of him 
 finally, he began to draw his own conclusions from that 
 sudden burst of temper. 
 
 He had always thought, as others did, that Marco 
 only saw in Beatrice an obstacle to Ottorino's marriage
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 255 
 
 with the daughter of Rusconi ; he knew that marriage 
 was desired by him, and from his knowledge of Marco's 
 nature, it did not appear strange that he should have 
 taken it up in so vehement a manner. When he saw 
 him fight with his cousin (and the seneschal was the 
 only person in the secret, for Visconti had made use of 
 him to procure his morion, and to find him a squire 
 unknown in those parts) , he thought it was only his way 
 of taking vengeance on the boy for having broken his 
 word. When Marco, before his departure, ordered him. 
 to watch if Ottorino ever visited at the house of the 
 Count del Balzo, Pelagrua never entertained any sus- 
 picion, or thought much about it ; and so he was very 
 far from imagining the impression which his discourse 
 made on his master. But this sudden outburst of wrath 
 served, like a flash of lightning, to clear his mind all at 
 once ; he saw that there must be a mystery somewhere ; 
 he began to think that Marco might himself have fallen 
 in love with this girl, for whom he showed himself so 
 tender and sensitive ; he ran over in his mind all the 
 circumstances in the past which had appeared somewhat 
 difl&cult to understand, and which, with this new indi- 
 cation, became as clear as daylight. 
 
 Marco, when he was alone, sat down at the table and 
 wrote five or six letters, and then again summoned his 
 seneschal, to whom he entrusted them, giving him 
 various instructions as to the manner of remitting 
 them ; he spoke to him again of his castle of Rosate 
 and the defences to be prepared there, and then he said 
 to him : 
 
 " As for Ottorino, I am determined that he shall not 
 show himself in Milan, and that if he ever does come 
 there. Count del Balzo must not receive him into his 
 house ; in any case, you had better keep your eye on 
 him, as you have done, and if anything new happens, 
 tell me at once." 
 
 " I will certainly," replied Pelagrua; "but suppose I 
 discovered — it is said already the young lady is be- 
 trothed to him, and a wedding is soon arranged ; even 
 the father "
 
 256 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 " You must prevent it," said Marco. 
 
 " But how ? because if " 
 
 " In any case," repeated Marco, " you must prevent 
 it ; arrange things accordingly, and let me know imme- 
 diately," and having said this, he dismissed him. 
 
 Pelagraa went out ; but as he went, he threw a glance 
 stealthily at his master's face, on which he saw an agi- 
 tation rendered the more visible by the effort he made 
 to conceal it. 
 
 " I understand what you mean ; I see it all," said the 
 knave to himself ; he went down quickly to the court- 
 yard, raounted his horse, and cracking his whip, soon 
 left the palace behind him, on his way to Lombardy. 
 
 As he galloped on through the night, this worthy dis- 
 coursed to himself : 
 
 " Oh, you may be sure I'll keep my eye on him, now 
 I have found the end of that skein, which I thought so 
 hopelessly entangled. Now I understand how it was 
 when he came to me at Rosate, quite upset and beside 
 himself, like a madman, and when he was in twenty 
 minds about going to Tuscany, setting off, and then 
 turning back ; as wild as any one I ever saw. And, 
 after all, he is not a boy just away from his mother's 
 apron-strings. Besides, if one was able to say of her 
 that she was a great princess, or a crowned queen, or 
 some priceless pearl ! But, no ; he must fall over head 
 and ears in love with a little girl in this way, and rave 
 about her as if she were a wonder of the world. It's 
 true she's handsome, but there are as good fish in 
 the sea as she. Then she's a proud, disdainful little 
 creature, and what's worse, she's another man's goods. 
 Oh, I could laugh at the whole affair ; and to think of 
 that great man, Marco Visconti ! Nothing could be 
 more surprising. One would have thought he was 
 made of other stuff than to fall in love with his eyes 
 shut, and give himself up to such childish folly. He 
 may be as proud as he likes, but let him go his own way, 
 and we shall see if your humble servant, whom he treats 
 as if he were the dirt beneath his feet, will not be able 
 to turn him round his finger, now he has obtained the
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 257 
 
 clue to his mystery. Oh, I see I can make my fortune 
 out of this business. Plague on it, what a state he was 
 in ! ' Take care of whom you speak.' That's what he 
 said. Oh, you great grandees of the earth, how miserably 
 little you are, after all !" 
 
 He now urged his horse forward, which had slackened 
 its pace, touched it with his spurs, and continued to 
 meditate as before. 
 
 " But what passes my understanding is how, when he 
 had once taken the whim into his head, he ever suffered 
 anything to stand in his way ; why did he not at once 
 proceed to extremities with the daring young scapegrace 
 who had dared to rob him of his lady-love ? He might 
 have made away with him by a single word ; bu.t no, 
 forsooth, and not only that, but he must needs himself 
 take up the young fellow's cause, and fly into a passion 
 if a word, is said against him. 
 
 " As to Lodrisio, he is wide awake enough, and not 
 blind to his own interest either. He would be glad 
 enough to get rid of his cousin, in order, among other 
 reasons, to inherit his estates of Castelletto, but he 
 would like to find some cat's paw to undertake the job 
 for him. However, I am up to his tricks. I know him 
 well enough. But this one, Marco, does not care a straw 
 for that, so long as he can get Ottorino out of his sight, 
 he does not want anything else. Why, the man is mad, 
 stark mad. He don't wish that a hair of his head should 
 be touched ! beware of that ! but the match must be 
 prevented ! Well, I am his servant ; and when the two 
 lovers are about to join their hands, I must I'ush in and 
 separate them. ' Not quite so fast, noble sir and fair 
 lady,' I must say, 'for my master does not consent to 
 the nuptials ! ' Oh, it is very different to have to do 
 with Lodrisio ! He goes straight on, without scruples, 
 and woe to whoever gets in his way. He will laugh 
 heartily when I tell him of these tender loves. Well, 
 I'll go to him for advice, and in any case I shall be glad 
 to shift the burden off my owti shoulders." 
 
 While the seneschal of Rosate was making these 
 remarks about his master, the latter had betaken him- 
 
 s
 
 258 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 self to rest, but could not find any ; and instead, gave 
 the rein to liis fevered imagination, vrhich soon overtook 
 his servant, vrho was galloping to Milan, and leaving 
 him far behind, had now arrived in his beloved city, in 
 the very palace of the Viceroy. It seemed to Marco as 
 if he were already conferring with Azzone and with his 
 brothers on matters connected with the siege. He fan- 
 cied he was rambling through the streets and squares, 
 visiting arsenals and factories, inspecting machines and 
 weapons, and encouraging with his language and ex- 
 ample the citizens in the defence of the walls. But 
 behind these ever-shifting pictures of places, things, and 
 persons, one always remained immovably and pertina- 
 ciously the same. Below the many emotions succeeding 
 each other in his heart, there was always one sensation 
 the most lively of all ; a sensation more or less distinct, 
 and sometimes overshadowed by others, but always 
 mixing vsdth them and tempering them — a sensation 
 which, in all the confusion of his mind, was, one might 
 say, like the bass in an organ symphony.
 
 MAECO VISCONTI, 259 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 MARCO VISCONTI, fatigued and stupefied by the 
 workings of his mind, forgot himself and his cares 
 at last in a restless and disturbed slumber. In the 
 meantime three soldiers had been chosen out of the 
 body-guard, whose post was the corridor of the palace, 
 to watch'in the ante-room of the new prince : two Ger- 
 mans and one Lucchese. Of the Germans, one was from 
 the band who had come from Ceruglio with Marco, and 
 the other was a veteran from the city garrison, who had 
 served under Castruccio. He from Ceruglio had evi- 
 dently paid more attention to the vintners than to the 
 oil merchants of the district, and fatigued by having 
 spent the day in harrying the villages on the plain of 
 Lucca, had seated himself on one of the low walls which, 
 at that time, followed the embrasure of the windows 
 about half the height of the parapet from the ground, 
 and having placed his morion in the niche opposite to 
 him, slept away soundly, holding, between his legs 
 stretched out before him, with the feet crossed, the butt 
 end of his lance, the point of which rested upon the 
 angle of the slope of the window ; and if it were not 
 for the sound of his snoring, he would have looked ex- 
 actly like one of those Roman soldiers from Pilate's 
 Pr^torium, such as one sees figuring in the representa- 
 tions of the Sepulchre during the Holy Week. 
 
 The other German stood stiffly upright in front of the 
 door leading into the room inhabited by Marco ; and the 
 Italian walked up and dovni the apartment with long 
 strides, stopping whenever he passed in front of a win- 
 dow, to look gloomily at the bastions of the city, where 
 everything was now quiet and silent. At last he stopped 
 between the fellow-soldier who was on guard and the
 
 260 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 one wIlo was asleep ; turned on tlie former a glance half 
 bitter and half sad, and pointing to the latter, said : 
 
 " Do you hear, CTerman, how your countryman's snor- 
 ing ? This movning he has been behaving himself like 
 a wolf, and now he is like a pig. What rascals they are 
 to plunder that village ! Poor Campomaggiore ! I 
 have never been able all day to get out of my nose the 
 stench of that burning. Gro on, snore on, you ugh" 
 rogue, and rest after your fine doings ! To call them 
 rebels ! My God ! as if they were ! I should like to 
 send that beast of a countryman of yours into his last 
 sleep." 
 
 " I am German as well," answered the other, " and 
 in that way we come from the same country ; but 
 I have fought so many years under Castruccio, that I 
 think I ought not to be looked upon as a foreigner in 
 Lucca ; so, Fazio, you had better call me comrade." 
 
 " Well, then, if you please, comrade, what do you 
 think of this fine expedition to Campomaggiore, and do 
 you think my Lord Marco ought to have allowed it ? " 
 
 Just then, the morion, which the German soldier from 
 Ceruglio had carelessly and hastily thrown on the para- 
 pet of the window too near the edge, being shaken in 
 some way, happened to slip down, and rolled to the 
 sleeper's feet, who was disturbed by the noise, and hear- 
 ing the others mention Marco, he joined in their conver- 
 sation in order to appear awake, and said, in his hoarse 
 gruff voice : 
 
 " What are you saying of Marco ?" 
 
 " We are saying," replied Fazio, angrily, " that what 
 you did at Campomaggiore was scoundrel's work, and 
 that Marco ought to have strangled you all, before 
 giving you leave " 
 
 " Giving us leave ! " interrupted the German — " I 
 like that ! We depend on him, do we ? It is like the 
 hand having to ask leave of the glove to hit a blow with 
 its fist ! " 
 
 " You are set up indeed," returned the Italian. " -Any 
 one .would think, to listen to you, that you were the 
 captain and Visconti a soldier's boy, a "
 
 MAKCO VISCONTI. 261 
 
 " Who says that Marco Visconti is a low fellow?" 
 said the other. " He is a soldier such as there are few 
 left, and now that Castracani is dead, I hold him to be the 
 first leader in Italy ; but that has nothing to do with a 
 man wanting his leave before setting to work to secure 
 his booty." 
 
 " It has this to do with it," broke in the other Ger- 
 man — " that the captain of a troop has the command of 
 his men, and soldiers who do not want to be taken for 
 marauders must remain under discipline." 
 
 " Well, our discipline is arranged in this way," replied 
 the first man : " As soon as we get our pay, and the bit 
 over promised us for coming down here, then we are the 
 masters, and Marco is only Lord of Lucca, because he 
 is our chief." 
 
 " Then, if Marco is your chief," returned the German 
 belonging to the garrison, " don't you depend on him ?" 
 
 " How dull you are ! " answered the other, " he is our 
 leader, and he is not our leader ; we have elected him 
 for a very good reason, to give in to popular prejudices, 
 because if a troop goes about without a leader, and 
 without deafening everybody's ears with trumpets and 
 drums, they are called marauders ; but if the marauders 
 are in correct ranks, with somebody in front with a gold 
 chain round his neck and a rolling-pin in his hand — if 
 one of them bears a dish-clout fastened on the top of a 
 spear, and there is a great row with trumpets and fifes, 
 then they are warriors, and people are respectful to 
 them, and throw their doors wide open to them." 
 
 " But what interest can Visconti have in agreeing to 
 this bargain ? " asked Fazio. 
 
 "What interest?" replied the German in surprise. 
 "Why, of course, the interest which moves the whole 
 world. Those pretty yellow things which make white 
 appear black, and black white, which stir the old man 
 and steady the young one, which " 
 
 " Have done with all this balderdash," struck in 
 the Italian. " Marco Visconti influenced by money ! so 
 generous and liberal as he is — a man like him ! " 
 
 " Yes, certainly ; even worthy men are often found
 
 262 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 searching in the mud for pence ! " replied the Cerugho 
 soldier. " I have seen them often enough obliged to 
 shovel up the coins out of the ditch, no matter how, so 
 long as they could get hold of them. Not that I vrould 
 accuse Marco of stooping so low as that, though he 
 wants money all the more, just because he is so generous 
 and open-handed. And then sometimes occasions do 
 arise when great leaders are obliged to fling their gold 
 away without stint. For instance, supposing there is a 
 fair lady in the case, who entirely occupies their thoughts 
 to the neglect of their warlike concerns ; and then, all of 
 a sudden, an immediate onslaught has to be made on a 
 neighbour's property, the leaders must make it worth 
 their soldiers while, more especially if the owner of the 
 coveted property does not seem inclined to part with it." 
 
 On hearing this, the Italian felt his temper rise, but 
 not wishing to make an uproar, he took a turn about 
 the room as if he wished, by exercising his legs, to 
 subdue his feelings, and when he again felt calm, he 
 turned back to continue the discussion, by saying : 
 
 " Which glasses hold most, I wonder, those belonging 
 to the landlord of ' Cano vetta,' or those of his rival at 
 'La G-attajuola ? ' for to judge by your language, you 
 must have given both a fair trial, I should imagine." 
 
 " Look here," replied the Grerman ; " I do not know 
 anything that touches my heart nearer than my purse; 
 but, notwithstanding, though I am not easily caught 
 myself, I always find out the poor simple fellows who 
 have got a lady on the brain ; and if you had seen my 
 Lord Marco at Cei'uglio, when there was nothing to do 
 — for whenever he had to do anything practical, or set 
 his head to work, it was quite another thing ; but if you 
 had seen him then, you would have taken him for some 
 blockhead who had left his senses at home. Suppose he 
 was riding ? it was to Ponte Petri, or towards San 
 Marcello ; then he would look sadly away towards Gar- 
 fagnana and Lombardy, and evidently wished to be fly- 
 ing to the top of the Apennines, so as to be able to look 
 down on his beloved lair beyond the Pò. In the evening 
 he would walk alone for hours under the portico, or
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 263 
 
 stand at the window making love to the moon ; fancy a 
 soldier gazing at the moon ! he must either be mad or 
 in love ; and this folly always going on ! it was not as if 
 he was a book- worm or a poet. Well, evidently the bird 
 was hmed — and then I could tell yon besides " 
 
 He would have gone on for ever, if the Italian, who 
 was becoming very hot, had not cut him short, by saying : 
 
 " I hear the clash of arms outside, it must be the 
 standard-bearer, Virlimbacca, who got as drunk as an 
 owl this evening ; " and ran off to station himself in front 
 of the entrance at the other end of the hall ; the German 
 from the Lucca garrison, returned to his post, and he of 
 Ceruglio — haviag lost his audience — re-arranged himself 
 in his corner, and resumed his interrupted slumbers. 
 
 We will wish him good-night, and return to Milan, to 
 see how things are going on there. 
 
 All the villages of the district immediately subject to 
 the dominion of the Visconti, or over which they pre- 
 served the suzerainty, were held, at the pleasure of their 
 liege lords, by tenor of investiture, such as payments of 
 money, labour, beasts, or men-at-arms. But these obli- 
 gations were carried out, more or less, according to the 
 state of the times, or the power and inclinations of the 
 lord and subject respectively ; so that nothing was more 
 common than to see a baron, count, or abbot, shut him- 
 self up in his castle, and defy all comers ; or for a 
 borough or village to raise its draw-bridge, and receive, 
 with cross-bow shots, the people who were sent to col- 
 lect tithes, taxes, and duties of all kinds and descrip- 
 tions. 
 
 Azzone, at the beginning of his reign, was so much 
 disliked, and so feeble, that, do what he would, he never 
 was able to scrape money enough together to pay the 
 Emperor the sum promised upon his investiture ; but no 
 sooner had he made his peace with the Church than he 
 at once got any sum he chose to ask for. 
 
 The priests, sent by the Pope, scoured the villages 
 and the castles in the viceroyalty, offering indulgences 
 to all who would come forward, either personally or with 
 money contributions, to defend the city from the excom-
 
 264 MARCO TISCONTI. 
 
 miinicated Bavarian ; and in a moment, especially from 
 the country, provisions, arms, money, and men poured 
 into Milan ; so that the place was soon thoroughly pre- 
 pared to stand a siege. 
 
 Limonta, as the reader is aware, was a fief of the 
 monastery of San Ambrogio. Now the Abbot, who was 
 one of the Emperor's creatures, and owed him everything 
 he possessed, did not care, you may be sure, to call out 
 his own vassals against him ; and, in fact, he had already 
 issued a proclamation here, as in all the other lands be- 
 longing to the monastery, to this effect : 
 
 " That no one, under pain of felony and excommuni- 
 cation, should dare to favour in any way the party of 
 Azzone, a rebel against his liege lord, as well as against 
 the Supreme Pontiff Nicolas V., and an abettor of that 
 schismatic, heretic, homicide and necromancer, that 
 monster of wickedness and iniquity, Pietro Jacopo di 
 Caorsa, who had the audacity to call himself Pope John 
 XXII." 
 
 The people of Limonta were a little frightened at first 
 at this braggadocio, but when they knew it was likely to 
 bring the reverend prelate into disrepute with the autho- 
 rities in Milan and the surrounding districts, they made 
 great game of it. It was no slight relief for those poor 
 people to be out of the clutches of a wretched little 
 potentate, who had bullied them so long, and who had 
 presented them with that charming fellow, Pelagrua. 
 Besides, it was he who had sent those sixty lancers into 
 the place on the errand we already know, and swore he 
 would do the same ten times over, if necessary, to pull 
 down the village and hang up all the Limontese. So 
 when the priests, sent by the Pope, came into those parts 
 to get the Limontese to take up arms against the Em- 
 peror, no one can describe the wild pranks with which 
 they were welcomed by the mountaineers, who kissed 
 their hands and gannents and carried them about in 
 triumph. 
 
 All the inhabitants now wished to remove themselves 
 and their poor furniture into Milan, and it was not easy 
 to turn them from this piece of folly, which would have
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 265 
 
 emptied tlie village, and, by pouring in a helpless crowd, 
 have added considerably to the embarrassments of a city 
 that was daily expecting a siege. A selection was there- 
 fore made of all who were capable of bearing arms, and 
 our friend the priest was placed at their head. Among 
 these was the boatman ; whose aged wife. Marta, was 
 quite content to remain at home alone, in order to allow 
 her husband to go where duty called him. Nay, poor as 
 she was, she insisted on his taking the greater part of 
 her poor rags, to prevent his depending entirely on the 
 bounty of others ; thus offering something from her 
 poverty in aid of the common need, to obtain the pro- 
 mised indulgence. But the priest pitied and admired 
 her extremely, and allowed, nay even insisted on her 
 accompanying her husband ; nor did this favour, granted 
 to her alone of all those who had requested it, provoke a 
 word of discontent. All felt that the poor old creature's 
 case was an exception to every rule, and that her mis- 
 fortunes, as well as her virtue, had made her a peculiarly 
 privileged person. 
 
 The little party started for Milan with the few effects 
 they had been able to collect together, only leaving to 
 those who remained behind the barest necessaries of life. 
 On the way they fell in with other parties coming from 
 the neighbouring villages, who were all travelling in the 
 same direction, furnished with provisions and arms ac- 
 cording to their ability. 
 
 On arriving at Milan they foimd the people engaged 
 in making redoubts and ditches, building fortifications, 
 and fabricating engines of war. The streets swarmed 
 with artificers, men-at-arms, priests and friars of all 
 denominations, brown, white, and black. On the squares 
 and at the angles of the streets were placed the forges of 
 the armourers, who were hard at work blowing the 
 bellows, turning the red-hot iron with tongs in the fire, 
 hammering it on the anvils, and plunging it all hot and 
 hissing into water; while mingled with the clang of 
 hammers, the rasping noise of files, and the shouts and 
 songs of the artizans and spectators, was to be heard in 
 all directions the noise of drums and trumpets, and of
 
 266 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 the bells whicli never- ceased pealing day or night from 
 every church in the city. 
 
 The troop of Limontese, on their entrance into Milan, 
 had displayed their white bann^er with a swan in the 
 middle, with a crozier in its bill and a mitre at its feet — 
 the arms of the monastery of San Ambrogio. The priest 
 went in front and his people followed him in pairs, 
 dressed in various ways. Some in large coats ; some in 
 their doublets, with gaberdines and cloaks made of wool, 
 or of bear or sheep-skin, with caps and hoods of every 
 shape ; armed with hedging-bills, partisans, daggers, 
 and bows, with shields of polished oak behind their 
 shoulders, and large bone-handled knives stuck in the 
 pocket hidden under the right side of their breeches, 
 called in the vernacular Latin of the period, coltellum de 
 garono, or "cuisse knives." 
 
 The citizens received these new arrivals with great de- 
 monstrations of welcome and fraternity. The Limontese 
 were at once recognized by their banner, and they were 
 conducted to Count del Balzo's house, where they were 
 to be lodged. 
 
 The house of Count del Balzo being situated close to 
 the postern gate of Algiso, now Ponte Beatrice, was 
 chosen for the quarter of the troops who were to defend 
 that "postei'n, the terrace beneath, and the moat which 
 reached as far as "II Pontaccio," in those days called 
 " La Porta Comacina." 
 
 The Limontese, on entering the first court, found it, 
 as also the verandah round it, full of arms, provisions, 
 and people. They took possession of a hall on the 
 ground-floor, and while they were seating themselves on 
 some benches round a table, and were preparing, to use 
 a modern expression, to make themselves comfortable, 
 there came in a groom to summon the priest into the 
 Count's presence. 
 
 This good man first saluted his noble host, and then, 
 at his request, told him the names of all his people whom 
 he had brought. 
 
 " Since I have been brought by my bad luck into 
 such a scrape," said the Count, "it is a great comfort to
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 267 
 
 find at least a few people whom I know well round me, 
 and to have some good faithful vassals at hand to take 
 my part, because, you see, here am I in the power of 
 these wretches, who lured me into this trap, worse luck. 
 On the other hand, if by chance the Emperor should 
 after all gain the upper hand, what would become of me 
 if it were to come to his ears that I had received all 
 these people under my roof ? And as if it was my 
 fault that they came ! Did I send for them ? What 
 good will they do me ? Ah, messere, if we were only back 
 among our mountains ! " and he heaved a deep sigh. 
 
 The priest without differing from him openly, sought 
 to reassure him and to give him courage, assuring him 
 the Emperor would be repulsed, and that great prepara- 
 tions were being made for the defence ; but the Count 
 only got impatient. 
 
 " And what do you know about it ? " he answered, 
 brusquely ; " You know nothing. Now, what I want 
 you to do is to impress upon the Limonta people that they 
 must never forsake me, for I may fairly call myself a 
 Limontese. By-the-bye, I want you to find out for me 
 among the people from the monastery of San Ambrogio, 
 those soldiers who set fire to the district, for I don't 
 want any quarrels between them and our people. If 
 only Lupo was here — soldiers understand one another 
 so soon ; he might keep the peace. The mischief is I 
 don't know where he is now." 
 
 " Lupo ? " said the vicar ; " we saw him just outside 
 the gates, in a little square, teaching a company of 
 peasants the sword exercise. He came with us as far 
 as your door, but would not enter ; for he said you had 
 forbidden him to do so." 
 
 " It is true," answered the Count, greatly embarrassed ; 
 " there was a certain story ; but now, if he would come, 
 for the reason I tell you, I would gladly give him 
 leave." 
 
 "In that case," replied the priest, "you can send for 
 him at once. They will find him in that square on the 
 right hand going out of the postern, close by a big 
 church, quite new, with a red facade."
 
 268 MARCO YISCOXTI. 
 
 " The Clmrcli of San Marco," said the Count. " Yes, 
 I'll manage it." 
 
 So he sent off at once, and soon after Lupo appeared, 
 quite enchanted to be again in the good graces of his 
 former master, and to be in the company of his dear 
 parents and country folk. When he heard what was 
 required of him : 
 
 "It all depends," he said, "on whether our moun- 
 taineers are willing to be reconciled after all they have 
 suffered ; as to the soldiers, I can answer for them." 
 
 The priest went down immediately into the lower hall 
 to prepare the minds of his flock for the wished-for re- 
 conciliation : and he was still speaking to them, when 
 Lupo entered, holding Vinciguerra by the arm, and 
 behind them came all the other soldiers who would have 
 so cruelly ill-used the Limontese, had not Lupo arrived 
 so opportunely to their rescue. 
 
 The soldiers were the first to cry out, " Viva Milano ! " 
 " Viva Limonta ! " and the mountaineers, half persuaded 
 by the pi'iest's admonitions, half touched by tliis cry, 
 and by those rough soldierly faces, which were express- 
 ing at that moment nothing but honesty and good-will, 
 rose and went to meet them, and the persecutors and 
 persecuted embracing each other, forgot all the suffer- 
 ings they had endured and the revenge they had taken, 
 in a mutual reconciliation. 
 
 The boatman was the only person present who re- 
 mained seated, with his arms tightly folded on his chest, 
 and an expression of face that showed no emotion, but 
 only a surly and dogged determination. 
 
 Vinciguerra recognized him as the peasant who had 
 conducted Bellebuono to the ambush, and tapping him 
 familiarly on his shoulder, said : 
 
 " What ! my good fellow, are you here, too ? " 
 
 Michael, without altering his position, or answering a 
 word, looked at him with eyes as savage as those of a 
 mastiff catching sight of a wolf. 
 
 "Ah, you rogue!" continued the soldier, half laiigh- 
 ing, " you took us all in with that nonsense about the 
 florins which Bellebuono had gone to get, and which we
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 269 
 
 were all to share in. Don't jon remember ? You did 
 not think then that we should meet here. Mountains 
 stand fast, but men move about. We shall know each 
 other another time." 
 
 "And I am here," answered Michael, raising his 
 head ; " I am here to give you satisfaction, and to all 
 the rest of you." 
 
 " Oh ! " cried the soldier, bursting out laughing, " so 
 the crabs want to bite the whales. Now, look here, my 
 master, the past is dead and buried ; what has been, has 
 been ; come here, and let us have a drink together. 
 Why do you look at me in that savage way ? ' ' 
 
 " Come, we are all friends here," interposed Lupo. 
 " So, come Michael, greet and make friends with this 
 honest soldier." 
 
 " You know what the priest said to you," the good 
 wife whispered into the ear of the obstinate boatman. 
 " Is this the example you give to the others, you who 
 are the oldest of all ? " 
 
 Michael rose up, and obeyed as if yielding to force, 
 and then went back to sit down as before. 
 
 "What an ill-conditioned fellow ! " said Vinciguerra 
 to Lupo, going off with him, and walking up and dovni 
 the hall, " As if it were his part to forgive ! I should 
 have thought it had been the other way ! And if it had 
 not been for my regard for you I would soon have taught 
 him better manners." 
 
 Lupo told Vinciguerra of this man's great sorrow in 
 having lost his only son in a shipwreck, and how, ever 
 since,' he had seemed stupefied by his grief. At the 
 same time the priest, going up to Michael, gave him an 
 account of all that Vinciguerra had done for Lupo at 
 the time the latter was at Chiaravalle in his charge, 
 under sentence of death. These pieces of information, 
 acting on their naturally good-natured dispositions, in- 
 cliaed them soon to kinder feelings, so that at last the 
 boatman and the soldier, coming on each other directly 
 afterwards in the middle of the hall, threw their arms, 
 without saying a word, round each other's necks ; and 
 ever after a cordial fellow-feeling existed between them.
 
 270 MAKCO VISCONTI. 
 
 TliG Count del Balzo now sent for some bottles of 
 good white wine, and the new peace was sealed by a 
 mutual interchange of healths between the parties. 
 The wine was from Limonta ; and the praises which it 
 drew from the lances of the monastery, would have suc- 
 ceeded in smoothing away all asperity from the hearts 
 of the mountaineers, if anv had still remained.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 271 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE Count arranged that the priest of Limonta 
 slionld have a private room set apart for him, and 
 that he should be a guest at his ovra table ; and he also 
 received into his own family the boatman's wife, our 
 old friend Marta, who was lodged in the part of the 
 house occupied by Ambrose, where she looked after 
 the household affairs in company with four or five 
 other women, hired on purpose for this extra work of 
 arranging the beds, doing the washing, and cooking, 
 and scouring the kitchen utensils for such a number of 
 people. 
 
 The poor woman, in the midst of all her occupations, 
 had her thoughts constantly turned to her mountains ; 
 she never lost sight of the picture in her mind of the 
 vast, soft expanse of the lake, the silver streak winding 
 amid the rocks of the streamlet, which she was wont to 
 look at from her window. Each morning as she woke 
 she fancied herself again in her hut, and that she had 
 around her the beloved brown walls, the table in the 
 centre, those oars piled on the floor, those seats, that 
 little bed — and together with these sweet and sad me- 
 mories, another always arose, still sadder, still dearer 
 than all — almost unspeakably sad to a mother's heart; 
 but there was no longer the sharp pang of the earlier 
 days ; time and humble trust in Grod had proved a heal- 
 ing balm to her wound. The poor creature was also 
 now near her Michael, from whom she had secretly 
 feared that she should be separated, and she was able to 
 pay her usual attentions to him, and employ herself for 
 him, as for her other country people, with the idea of 
 contributing, as far as in her lay, to the defence of her 
 own country and faith ; all these circumstances com-
 
 272 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 bined to calm her feelings more than anything had done 
 since the day of her terrible sorrow. She found in her 
 work, and even in her bodily fatigue, an unwonted con- 
 solation, and a placid melancholy that was not without 
 its charm. She often prayed, and her prayers were 
 calmer and more resigned ; she wept, and her tears were 
 not bitter as before, they flowed softly and abundantly, 
 and seemed to take a weight ofi her heart, which gave 
 her real relief. 
 
 The good old creature became very intimate with the 
 falconer's family ; Marianna, Ambrose, Lupo and Lau- 
 retta were all very fond of her, and looked upon her 
 as a relation, and she, while pursuing her household 
 labours, would often revei't to her mountains and her 
 lake. 
 
 It was with Bernardo alone that she could never get 
 on : that tiresome fellow had never given up any of his 
 obstinate predilections in favour of the Bavarian and 
 the Antipope ; he seldom left home for fear of the risk 
 of breaking his head in defending opinions no longer 
 generally held, but in the bosom of his family he never 
 ceased from grumbling, quarrelling, and tormenting one 
 after another ; and this Limontese guest was not spared 
 more than any of the others in his scholarly wrath and 
 his schismatic fancies. 
 
 In the meantime, news arrived that the Bavarian's 
 army was advancing. There were two, three, or four 
 thousand troopers, and an infinite number of foot sol- 
 diers. Cane della Scala contributed four hundred 
 knights ; many Ghibelline nobles from various Lombard 
 cities, and many from among the most powerful families 
 in Milan itself, had raised the imperial standard, and 
 hastened with their vassals to the Emperor's assistance. 
 His forces were enormous ; the preparations for the 
 siege terrible. 
 
 It was at this time that PelagTua arrived from Lucca, 
 and, having conferred privately with Lodrisio, hurried 
 off to fortify and victual the castle of Rosate. Soon 
 after, another courier arrived with letters for the Vice- 
 roy, and spread the news that Marco was master of
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 273 
 
 Lacca and the surrounding territory. The joy this 
 created in Milan is easier to be imagined than described; 
 they made up their minds that this singular event was 
 the effect of a plot arranged long before with the Guelphs 
 of Tuscany, so as to catch the deceitful Emperor in the 
 act, and this opinion succeeded in greatly increasing the 
 confidence and courage of the Milanese. 
 
 A day passed, another and another, and then there 
 arrived from Monza news that the Bavarian had arrived 
 before that city, and that her gates were shut in his face. 
 They heard, too, how day and night the sentinels and 
 patrols were exercised, scouts were sent out, and com- 
 panies of soldiers were posted in different places, and 
 day and night they worked with furious speed to com- 
 plete the engines and the fortifications. " They are 
 coming to-day — they will come to-morrow," was the 
 cry ; but it was not till the twenty-first of May that the 
 imperial standard came in sight, followed by an extra- 
 ordinary number of men and horses, and a marvellous 
 train of equipages and baggage. 
 
 At that time the town of Milan was surrounded by a 
 moat which had been excavated more than a century 
 and a-half before, in order to fortify the city against 
 Frederick Barbarossa, the same moat which, long after 
 the epoch of our story, became navigable, whence it 
 derived the name of Naviglio. Bridges have now taken 
 the place of the principal gates and posterns of the city 
 in 1329. 
 
 The Emperor at first pitched his camp on the bridge 
 of Archetto, and then advanced towards ths postern of 
 San Ambrogio, and he and his court took up their resi- 
 dence in the monastery of San Vittore, which was out- 
 side the city walls, and just opposite tjie said postern. 
 The besieged Milanese could see the lights of that vast 
 building shining through the night, and hear the noise 
 of the banquets which the Bavarian held there ; and 
 they endeavoured to hurl some rocky stones by means of 
 a petard, which they had placed on the top of the tower 
 still to be seen by the side of the bridge of San Ambrogio, 
 shouting as they propelled them, these strange words 
 
 T
 
 274 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 preserved by Fiamma, " O glabri one ebrioso, bibe, bibi, 
 ho, ho babii, babo." ^ 
 
 The principal efforts of the emperor in the siege were 
 directed against the suburb of Porta Ticinese, in the 
 hopes, that by making himself master of the hills at 
 that place, .the city, would be starved into a surrender; 
 but that portion, by the advice of Marco, had been forti- 
 fied more strongly than any other ; many feats of arms 
 were performed there, and our people, instead of being 
 dislodged, had always the advantage over their assail- 
 ants. 
 
 The siege had lasted more than a month, when Lupo 
 was informed by some of the leaders, that at the postern 
 gate of Algiso, that very night, some provisions of which 
 the city began to stand in need, were to be expected ; 
 and he was charged to let down the drawbridge as soon 
 as he heard the signal agreed upon. Lupo had been 
 appointed captain of the Limonta troop, and placed in 
 charge of this postern, since the lances of the monastery 
 of San Ambrogio had been removed from thence, and 
 stationed in a tower close to the suburb of Porta Ticinese, 
 where there was most need of disciplined and exjierienced 
 troops. 
 
 The night came ; our mountaineers were scattered 
 along the ramparts looking towards Porta Comacina, 
 with Lupo on the top of the tower beside the postern, 
 looking out. After waiting a long time he saw a light 
 appear at last on the steeple of the Convent of San 
 Simpliciano : this was the pre-arranged signal, to which 
 he hastened to respond by opening a dark lantern, and 
 placing it for an instant between two battlements on the 
 tower. Having done this he went down to a lower floor 
 where his father. Ambrose slept, together with Michael 
 the boatman, and four other Limontese, and said to 
 them : " Get up immediately, so as to be in time." 
 They rose immediately, and running to the loopholes, 
 listened hard ; all was silent on that side, and they only 
 heard the steps of two sentinels who watched at the foot 
 
 * Freely rendered : — " Drink, bearded ruffian, drink."
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 275 
 
 of the tower. But in a short time their ears caught a 
 dull sound approaching, the rumbling of wheels, the 
 trampling of horses. 
 
 " Listen ! " said Lupo ; " I do believe it is a waggon." 
 
 " It is undoubtedly a waggon," returned Ambrose. 
 
 "What blockheads those peasants must be!" con- 
 tinued Lupo. " What need was there to come with a 
 waggon, and make so much noise ? Could they not bring 
 the things on their shoulders, — or at the worst employ 
 mules ? " 
 
 The night was dark, so that you could not see twenty 
 steps before you — a man now advanced to the edge of the 
 trench, clapped his hand three times, and said : — " San 
 Ambrogio." 
 
 " For whom ? " inquired Lupo. 
 
 " For Luchino and for the Fatherland," replied the 
 other. 
 
 " That is the watchword," said the falconer's son, in 
 a low voice, and then raising it a little : 
 
 " Why do you come with a waggon, and run the risk 
 of being caught by the German patrols ? " 
 
 " It is provender for the Count's stables," answered 
 the man from below. 
 
 The drawbridge was now lowered, and four horses 
 drawing a waggon of hay came on under the arch, till 
 the leaders almost touched the closed portcullis with 
 their heads ; at a word from the Limontese captain the 
 portcullis rose, and lifting itself noisily between the 
 fluting of the pillars, was nearly hidden in the vault 
 above ; then the man who had charge of the waggon 
 urged on the horses for a few steps, and then stopped 
 short with some trivial excuse. " Go on ! " shouted 
 Lupo to him ; but instead of obeying he uttered a shrill 
 whistle, and a band of soldiers, issuing from behind the 
 church of San Marco, where they had been hiding, 
 galloped towards the arch. 
 
 " Let the gate down ! " cried Lupo. They raised the 
 weights, and the portcullis fell, but in falling it came 
 against the waggon of hay underneath, and remained 
 suspended in the air. " Raise the bridge ! "
 
 276 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 " We can't raise it, for those outside are holding it 
 with ropes and pulleys." 
 
 " Treason ! treason ! Ambrose ! Michael ! Limontese 
 to the rescue ! Treason!" 
 
 The keeper of the tower blew a sharp blast on his 
 horn to summon help ; those scattered along the forti- 
 fications ran up from all sides : the two sentinels, the 
 falconer, the boatman, four or five others, rushed on 
 either side of the waggon, and laying wildly about them, 
 succeeded in keeping back some men on foot who were 
 forcing an entrance. At the same time Lupo sprang on 
 the backs of the horses fastened to the waggon, showered 
 blows upon them with the butt-end of a lance, pricked 
 them with the point, and urged and frightened them 
 with his voice ; so that at last, by arching their back- 
 bones, and straining every nerve, with their bellies bent 
 to the ground, they succeeded in moving their load a 
 little, notwithstanding the resistance that was opposed 
 by the enormous bars of iron sunk in the haj which had 
 yielded to the weight. The falconer's son shouted out 
 two or three times for the gate to be raised for a moment, 
 so as to set the waggon free to pass below ; but in the 
 midst of the confusion and uproar his voice was not 
 heard. In the meantime the German cavalry horses 
 had become furious, the bridge re-echoed with their iron 
 hoofs, and some of them had ah'eady penetrated under 
 the arch, where it was perfectly dark, and where the 
 confusion, and noise, and the exchange of blows was 
 quite frightful, till in the midst of the clamour was 
 heard the sound of descending iron, and then arose a 
 sharp cry of agony. A last effort had at that moment 
 freed the waggon from the weight which embarrassed it, 
 and the portcullis in its descent had fallen on a German 
 trooper who was just underneath. 
 
 Soon some lighted torches arrived to illumine the 
 scene of terror. Five or six German horsemen, who had 
 already made their way through, were quickly despatched 
 by the Limontese, and below the arch of the bridge tliere 
 began a furious fight between those outside, who were 
 trying with levers to raise the portcullis, and those
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 277 
 
 witliin, who were using every effort to prevent them. 
 They dealt savage blows right and left with their pikes 
 and lances, to the destruction alike of men and horses ; 
 but the Germans had the worst of it, embarrassed as 
 they were by the formidable defences with which the 
 gate on their side was armed ; sharp spikes, on which, in 
 their headlong career, they wei'e imj^aled. 
 
 Lupo now perceived a fresh troop of enemies advancing 
 on the road of San Marco to renew the fray, so he or- 
 dered some of his people, who were arriving from all 
 sides, to mount on the tower and level a mangonel at 
 them. In a few minutes a storm of stones descended 
 from above, and from the loopholes a cloud of arrows, 
 and the Grermans found they had better abandon the 
 enterprise, and take to flight. 
 
 The drawbridge having been raised without further 
 hindrance, and all being now quiet, the Limontese re- 
 turned to let the portcullis completely down, and found 
 beneath it a fine Hungarian horse, that had been caught, 
 together with its rider. The horse, which had received 
 that enormous weight on its spine, had both its hind 
 legs broken ; the soldier was held by the foot, and both 
 were struggling violently to get from under the terrific 
 weight. The poor animal, whose hinder parts were 
 crushed to the earth, with pricked-up ears and mane 
 erect, its eyes bloodshot and starting from its head, and 
 its nostrils distended, raised its head from time to time, 
 kept pawing and striking fiercely with its fore feet, try- 
 ing to rise, and biting the while at all who approached 
 it, and uttering shrieks of pain. The rider, with one 
 foot broken and entangled between the l)roken limbs of 
 the horse and the portcullis, was frightfully shaken and 
 jolted at every movement of the animal. He twisted 
 himself about and clutched at everything with his hands, 
 now raising himself on his knee, and with clasped hands, 
 praying in his German tongue that they would spare 
 his life ; now picking up his sword and brandishing it 
 fiercely, and hampered and wounded as he was, showing 
 that he would not allow himself to be killed with im- 
 punity. Seen in this attitude by torchlight, with a face
 
 278 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 all covered with shaggy red hair, with his grey eyes 
 flashing with rage, pain, and fear ; he seemed like a wolf 
 caught in a trap at the moment when the shepherd is 
 coming behind him with upraised club to give him the 
 coup de grace. 
 
 Our mountaineers took pity on him, and removing 
 him from under the trap, carried him to a house, where 
 he was looked after by old Marta, who was a great hand 
 at setting broken bones, and was considered the first 
 doctoress in Limonta. The poor woman, in the inno- 
 cence of her heart, did not think she sinned against the 
 love of her neighbour by showing it to an enemy, who, 
 now that he could do no further harm, she thought had 
 a just claim on her sympathy. 
 
 That same night, a little more than an hour after the 
 abortive attempt made by the Germans, Pelagi^ua, wrapped 
 up in a gTcy cloak, with a hood over his eyes, and fully 
 armed under his mantle, appeared at the house of 
 Lodrisio Visconti, whose door he found half closed. He 
 went in, and recognized by some soldiers who were 
 standing on guard there, passed on into a room where the 
 master of the house came to meet him, with an anxious 
 and expectant expression of countenance. 
 
 " Are you alone ? and at this late hour ? " said Lodrisio. 
 " What has happened ? " 
 
 "Death and confusion to all those meddling hill-folk ! " 
 replied Pelagrua, throwing off his cloak. 
 
 " What ! Has the stratagem failed ?" 
 
 " Everything is as bad as it can be." 
 
 " Oh, you cowardly traitor ! " cried the knight, going 
 up to him, clenching his fist in his face. " I don't know 
 what restrains me from leaving the marks of my hands 
 on that ugly visage of yours." 
 
 " Listen ! " said Pelagrua, without seeming to be 
 greatly alarmed at this explosion. " It has not failed 
 through me ; it was all owing to that gallows-bird of a 
 Lupo, that squire of Ottorino's ; you know whom I 
 mean. He did not give me time to unfasten the horses, 
 and I had some difficulty in escaping from their claws, 
 and in coming here to tell you about it."
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 279 
 
 "And you may liave been recognized ? " 
 
 " No ; for I had my hood over my eyes, and then 
 there was no one to see us." 
 
 " And the Grermans ? " 
 
 " Were all driven back." 
 
 " By a handful of peasants taken unavrares ? How 
 is it possible ? " 
 
 Here the seneschal of Rosate began to describe ex- 
 actly and minutely the whole affair as it had happened. 
 
 Lodrisio, on hearing of the brave defence made by 
 the Limontese, felt the sort of rage which a bird-catcher 
 feels towards the birds which escape from the snare, and 
 are so rebellious that they will not allow themselves to 
 be killed to please him. 
 
 " The rascals ! " he exclaimed; "the knaves! But it 
 is I who am a fool, for having trusted such an affair to 
 a coward like you ; and I must pay for it. Still, at any 
 rate, you have lost your chance of fortune. If I had 
 become master of Milan, you would not have had cause 
 to repent it, and you would have been better off in my 
 service than you ever will be as Marco's slave." 
 
 " As for that matter, I might have run the chance of 
 breaking my neck on my own account. But what does 
 it signify ? I knew well enough that it was a case of 
 'nothing venture, nothing have,'" answered the ruffian, 
 coolly, " and therefore I spared no trouble, and nothing 
 was left undone by me, as I told you. Can't you fancy, 
 that among other incentives, I should have had great 
 satisfaction in chastising soundly those rascally moun- 
 taineers who played me that ill-turn at Limonta, and on 
 whose account I was obliged to beat a retreat from a 
 place where I lived in as much ease and comfort as a 
 prince ? " 
 
 Lodrisio struck his brow with one hand, and again 
 repeated : 
 
 " To make such a dead failure as this — to be stopped 
 in full career by such a small obstacle ! " 
 
 "There is one comfort," continued Pelagrua, "which 
 is, that no one suspects us. The affair was conducted 
 so cunningly, by such secret means, that — I don't say
 
 280 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 tliis becanse I had a hand in it — but I defy the devil 
 himself to find the key to the mystery. I have run the 
 risk all myself, and you " 
 
 " That remains to be seen, wretched dolt ! " cried 
 Lodrisio, interrupting him. " I have for my part to 
 repair the mischief done, and I certainly shall not return 
 thanks because, in falling, I have only broken my legs, 
 vi^hen I might have also broken my neck. Now, get out 
 of my sight ! To-morrow evening you had better go off 
 to your castle of Rosate, which I wish to goodness you 
 had never left ! In the meantime you must watch and 
 listen to find out what is generally thought of this 
 night's work. Before going away you must inform me 
 of this. Be off vrith you ! I have tried you, and you 
 have failed me at a pinch. I have only one more charge 
 to give you — take care not a word escapes yon of what 
 has passed between us, or it would have been better for 
 you if your tongue had dropped out." 
 
 "As to that," replied Pelagrua, "have no fear; you 
 can make yourself as easy as if you had been talking 
 with that wall there. I have not been to see you, of 
 course ! " 
 
 When the seneschal of Rosate had departed, Lodrisio 
 remained alone to digest the rage which this contre- 
 temps had excited in him. He had known Pelagrua at 
 Rosate a short time before Marco had set off for Ceru- 
 glio. It is well said, " birds of a feather flock together," 
 and they had no sooner inet than they came to a mutual 
 understanding, and while preserving their respective 
 positions of master and servant, they at once became 
 entirely united, and agreed to support in every way the 
 machinations of Marco, resting as they did their hopes 
 of personal aggrandizement in the success of his projects. 
 But when the seneschal brought from Tuscany the news 
 that Marco had been elected lord of Lucca, the plotters 
 were quite disconcerted, feeling sure, that occupied with 
 these new interests, and content with his position, he 
 would not wish to commit himself any further to a 
 cause which had for some time seemed to be in a bad 
 way, and therefore they thought of providing for them-
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 281 
 
 selves, taking tlie first opportunity tliat miglit offer. 
 This was not long delayed. The Bavarian, in despair 
 of obtaining Mihm by force of arms, now tried to gain 
 possession of it by stratagem, and after he had vainly 
 endeavoured to bribe several leading men with large 
 promises of money, titles, and dignities, he turned his 
 attention to Lodrisio, who was well known as a turbulent 
 and ambitious spirit, and as having more than once 
 broken faith with the Ton'iani and the Visconti, and 
 promised him nothing less than the lordship of the city 
 if he was able to deliver it into his hands. The per- 
 fidious man took the bait at once, and confided the affair 
 to Pelagrua, who having come from Rosate, arranged 
 the whole intrigue which met with the discomfiture we 
 have related above. 
 
 Now Lodrisio was thinking sadly over the superb 
 castle in the air he had seen fall to pieces before him, 
 and of the evil condition to which he was reduced. 
 
 As this attempt had failed, there no longer remained 
 any chance for the Emperor ; his German troops, dis- 
 couraged and harassed by the frequent sallies from the 
 town, could hardly be kept together ; the Italians (as 
 the confederates called themselves), destitute alike of 
 pay and provisions, betrayed, and ill-used, were abandon- 
 ing the camp in small bodies ; and it could easily be 
 seen that the Bavarian would soon be forced to raise the 
 siege, and return home by the shortest road. He could 
 not hope to impart his schemes to Azzone, who he knew 
 had always suspected him, even when he was receiving 
 from him every day the most complimentary treatment. 
 Where was he to turn — to what rock could he cling 
 amid this shipwi-eck of all his hopes ? 
 
 "When Pelagraa, together with the news of the princi- 
 pality of Lucca having been bestowed on his master, had 
 brought to Lodrisio the other no less wonderful intelli- 
 gence of Marco's love for the daughter of Count del 
 Balzo, Lodrisio had immediately perceived that this love 
 might be used as a means to keep Visconti 's interest in 
 a:ffairs at Milan still alive. At first the intrigues with 
 the Emperor, which were to have raised him to a gran-
 
 282 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 deur to whicli his proudest dreams had never soared 
 before, had put that thought out of his head, in the 
 same way as vs^hen a w^ndovr is thrown open, the full 
 light of day puts out the poor ray of a lamp burning in 
 the room ; but in like manner, if the vrindow is again 
 darkened, the despised lamp becomes useful and brilliant 
 again, so, when other projects are dissipated in the am- 
 bitious mind, a former and more distant hope is often 
 revived and rekindled with fresh light. 
 
 That a caprice for a woman (thus he qualified Marco's 
 love for Beatrice) could have so great a power over his 
 friend's heart as to lead him to imperil such a position 
 as that which he now held, was not a thought which 
 could enter for a moment into a mind like Lodrisio's. 
 'No, indeed ; but that fancy, he said to himself, could be 
 kept up, and excite in his heart the thought of another 
 principality rather better worth having than that of 
 Lucca, one that he had watched and sighed after for 
 so long. How slight a weight will sometimes turn the 
 scale ! Now, this slight weight, he flattered himself, he 
 had at his command, and was determined to place it in 
 the scales in time to decide the ba-lance.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 283 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 TDELAGtRUA reappeared on the evening of the next 
 -■- day, and confirmed Lodrisio in what he had already 
 heard from many quarters, that nothing had transpired 
 of his transactions with the Emperor, who was now 
 striking his tents and making his way towards Ger- 
 many. The perfidious traitor, being now tranquillized, 
 softened a little towards his accomplice, and began ask- 
 ing him about Beatrice and Ottorino. 
 
 " Important things have occurred," replied the sene- 
 schal of Rosate, who could hardly believe he was again 
 in favour. " I have seen the Count's groom, who, as 
 you know, is quite at my beck and call, and he tells me 
 that for some time great doings have been going on at 
 home." 
 
 " What sort of doings ? " 
 
 " Why, marriage doings." 
 
 " And do you mean to say the Count agrees ? What 
 has become of all his fears of Marco ? " 
 
 " Agree ! no, he has not agreed, for his fright has not 
 yet gone off ; but what does that signify, such a block- 
 head as he is ? The girl is going mad from her suffer- 
 mg ; the mother is her adviser, and it will not be long 
 before " 
 
 " Well, then, we must look alive," interrupted Lodri- 
 sio, " and put a stop to this marriage at any price ; for, 
 although Marco may have fallen a victim to a pair of 
 bright eyes, as soon as he knows that the lady is not for 
 him, and that there is no help for it, he will no doubt fly 
 into one of his frenzies, as he has done before, but what 
 of that ? He is far away off now, and his mind and 
 thoughts are fully taken up with his new state ; he must 
 make up his mind to give her up, and he will give her 
 up."
 
 284 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 " I firmly believe," replied the steward of Rosate, 
 " that the girl is nearer his heart than you think, and 
 it may well be that he, when he knows she is another's, 
 will get quite mad and savage ; but I know one thing, 
 that he will begin by falling on me because I have not 
 prevented the marriage. And, worse than that, I have 
 heard a rumour that after the marriage the wedded pair 
 are to set off nobody knows where, and then how shall 
 we look, all of us, when the lady has disappeared before 
 our eyes ? Marco will either go raving mad and sacrifice 
 us all to his blind fury, or he will plunge headlong into 
 the affairs of Tuscany, as you suggest, so as to efface 
 from his mind scenes and recollections which would 
 then only serve to keep alive his misery and disappoint- 
 ment." 
 
 " Then we must use every exertion to stop the mar- 
 riage," said Lodrisio. 
 
 " That's soon said," replied the other ; " when he was 
 dismissing me at Lucca, he dinned the same thing into 
 my ears, but at the same time he would not hear of 
 Ottorino being harmed in any way." 
 
 " As for him, we must wait for what will turn up, 
 and in any case, you must act according to my orders." 
 
 " I am most willing, but, you see " 
 
 " Come, let us have no buts ; you must lay aside all 
 scruples and whims ; those who act with me must 
 follow me blindly without ever questioning or turning 
 back." 
 
 " Well, you vron't find me drawing back. I only 
 point out the doubts and difficulties before beginning an 
 enterprise ; but never after it has been once set on foot. 
 You will soon see I am as good as my word. As yet 
 you scarcely know me, and hitherto I have not been 
 successful ; but you will soon see that I am no vain 
 boaster." 
 
 " Yes, I have already had a specimen of your talents in 
 the last affair." 
 
 " But," said Pelagrua, " if the devil mixes himself up 
 in a business, what can I do ? " 
 
 And thus ended the colloquy between these two 
 scoundrels.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 285 
 
 It is now quite time for us to return to speak of 
 Ermelinda and Beatrice, whom we have neglected for 
 some time. 
 
 After that night when the maiden returned from the 
 feast bearing Lupo's reprieve, her mother had learned 
 from her frightened confidences the dreadful certainty 
 that she was beloved by Visconti. It is difficult to de- 
 scribe Ermelinda's sensations on such a sudden and un- 
 expected discovery. Terror and sorrow for her child, 
 indignation against Marco ; and yet we must add, 
 though she did not venture to confess it, even to her- 
 self, there was a momentary kindling of the old flame 
 which made her blood curdle, and there was an instant 
 in which her Beatrice appeared to her less beloved, less 
 precious than usual. This was an unexpected revela- 
 tion to her of the most hidden secrets of her soul. She 
 was ashamed, and almost afraid of herself ; but she 
 soon restrained and conquered those feelings which 
 were at variance with her maternal instincts, and her 
 affection for her beloved daughter overcame everything 
 else. 
 
 Ermelinda knew too well how entirely Beatrice had lost 
 her heart to Ottorino, so that even if Marco, which was 
 scarcely credible, were to ask her to be his wife, it could 
 not be expected that she would be wilHng to accept him. 
 So, in order to protect her from any such peril, her mother 
 thought it best to hasten on the marriage already arranged 
 with the young knight. In this way she flattered herself 
 she would extinguish all hope in Marco's heart, and place 
 her daughter under the protection of a husband. 
 
 As soon as Visconti was safe in Tuscany, Ermelinda 
 began to entreat her husband's consent to the match 
 which, at one time, he had arranged himself ; but the 
 Count was furious at the very idea, without being will- 
 ing to remember that he had encouraged his daughter's 
 attachment for the young knight, when her mother had 
 used every effort to divert her from such a feeling. But 
 constant dropping will wear away a stone; partly in- 
 fluenced by his wife's persistence, partly by the con- 
 tinued sight of his beloved Beatrice's passionate feel-
 
 286 MAECO VISCONTI. 
 
 ings ; and partly by time, wliicli naturally had extin- 
 guished much of the impression made on him by the 
 words and looks of Marco, and more than all, the know- 
 ledge that this very Marco was far away, involved in a 
 sea of affairs, at last made him more manageable. An 
 additional shock to his determination was given by the 
 news that Marco had become lord of Lucca ; and now 
 that- he considered him quite settled in Tuscany, and 
 unlikely to find himself able to turn his attention to 
 Lombard affairs, he began to allow Ottorino to return to 
 the house which had been closed against him for so long. 
 But even now he was only admitted at dusk, and in 
 secrecy, for Heaven forbid that curious people should 
 find him out, and carry the news to the ears of the gal- 
 lant individual at Lucca. Thus the news of Marco's 
 elevation, which had spoilt all the plans of Lodrisio and 
 his tool, the seneschal of Rosate, had amended those 
 of the family of Balzo. 
 
 As to Ottorino, the misfortunes he had suffered on 
 Beatrice's account had deeply wounded his inmost 
 heart. If formerly the beloved image had mingled 
 with all his dreams, now she alone entirely filled the 
 void of his impassioned soul. We say, the void of his 
 soul, because the youth, since the bitter treatment he 
 had received from Marco, felt that everything was for 
 ever at an end between him and his former leader, and 
 his future life in consequence appeared very empty to 
 him, as he had till now only employed it in pleasing 
 Marco, from whom alone he looked for fame and repn 
 tation. Persons and places which reminded him of lost 
 joys had become distasteful to him. His future being 
 wrecked, nothing remained to him but Beatrice, the 
 only desire he retained was to make her his, and then 
 together with her to leave his native land, and betake 
 himself to Asia to fight the Saracens ; the usual resolu- 
 tion at that time of those who, disgusted with their 
 own country, hoped for nothing more while remaining 
 there. 
 
 But how could he imagine that the damsel's parents 
 would aUow her to accompany him on so long and dan-
 
 MAKCO VISCONTI. 287 
 
 gerons a jonrney, in search of an uncertain and mysterious 
 future ? Strange to say, the apprehension they felt of 
 Marco smoothed every difficulty. Ermelinda let herself 
 be persuaded to this painful step by the anxiety of 
 placing her daughter in safety from any effort which 
 the love or the caprice of Visconti might, as time went 
 on, make to win her, and also to prevent, at the same 
 time, the risk that Ottorino, discovering at some future 
 moment the true cause of the hatred his chieftain had 
 conceived for him, might be impelled by jealousy to re- 
 venge himself on so powerful and formidable a rival. 
 
 As for the Count, he resigned himself to this hard 
 sacrifice to save his skin, provided that he could assure 
 Marco that he had not broken his word, and could make 
 him believe that Ottorino had carried off his daughter, 
 who had escaped with him. 
 
 Thus far had events travelled, when the dialogue 
 before mentioned took place between Lodrisio and 
 Pelagrua. 
 
 The wedding was fixed to take place when things had 
 quieted down after the siege. The Count made a con- 
 dition that it was to take place secretly ; the married 
 couple were to set off at once to Castelletto, a fort on 
 the Ticino belonging to Ottorino, as has been said be- 
 fore ; and there they would only delay during ihe time 
 necessary to prepare for the journey to the Holy Land : 
 Lauretta and Lupo were to accompany them, and were 
 satisfied to share their fate. 
 
 Beatrice, who possessed fortitude and strength of 
 mind, was not alarmed at the discomforts and risks 
 which were to be met with on so long and severe a pil- 
 grimage, nor at the uncertainty of her future position in 
 such a strange and distant land : any difficulty and 
 trouble seemed sweet to her in the company of her 
 adored Ottorino, shared with him and borne for his 
 sake. But, then, to leave her dear parents, her sweet, 
 beloved mother especially ; to go so far away for so 
 long, and perhaps never to see her again ! The poor 
 child could not bear the anguish of such a cruel 
 thought ! She had never been so tender, so caressing,
 
 288 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 as in these latter days ; slie recalled to her mind, with 
 a deep sense of devotion all that her mother had done 
 and suffered for her all these years, watching over her 
 from her infancy to this time. She felt a sharp pang 
 of remorse when she remembered the childish passions 
 with which she used to grieve her, emboldened by the 
 blind indulgence of her father, and the last days spent 
 at Limonta, when Ottorino was there, when she, owing 
 to her new affection, had become irritable and impatient 
 of maternal advice, and had grieved her poor mother 
 with her strange wayward fancies. 
 
 Quite overcome with such bitter memories, the loving 
 girl threw herself on her mother's neck, and deluging 
 her with tears, implored her to forgive her. Often feel- 
 ing almost repentant for her worship for Ottorino, which 
 seemed, as it were, to have been robbed from her mother, 
 she felt a longing to speak to her of her affection for 
 her, and could not bear to be away from her, and was 
 never tired of caressing her, or of saying a thousand 
 tender words. 
 
 But the moment expected with so much trepidation, 
 with an indefinable pang of terror, and yet of longing, 
 was approaching nearer and nearer. The Emperor, in 
 despair of doing any good by prolonging the siege, had 
 already come to some agreement with Azzone, and struck 
 his camp. By degrees the country troops, who had 
 come to defend the city in its danger, were now leaving 
 Milan to return to their homes. The Limontese were 
 also preparing to go back to their mountains, happy and 
 proud of the glory they had acquired from the nocturnal 
 assault, and their number only diminished by four men, 
 who had fallen under the German axes. 
 
 The lances of the monastery of San Ambrogio, who, 
 by the Viceroy's arrangement, were to remain in Milan, 
 came to wish our friends God speed. Lupo asked for 
 Vinciguerra, whom he did not see with the others, and 
 heard that he had fallen in a sally from the suburb of 
 Porta Ticinese ; some of his comrades, from the top of a 
 tower, had seen him struck from his horse, and defend- 
 ing himself on foot like a lion, whirling around him his
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 289 
 
 iron mace. Ke was lost for a moment among the crowd ' 
 of enemies who were pressing on him on every side ; 
 they thought lie was taken prisoner, but soon after re- 
 cognized his bleeding skull pierced by a lance. " He 
 died like a brave soldier doing his duty," said Lupo; 
 " may God give him rest : " and then they turned to 
 more cheerful subjects. 
 
 The same morning that these good mountaineers were 
 to begin their journey, their priest was summoned in 
 great secrecy to bless the nuptials of Ottorino and Bea- 
 trice. Although Azzone was reconciled to the church, 
 the interdict was still in effect, and was not raised till 
 some months later ; there was therefore an honourable 
 and apparent reason why the marriage should take place 
 in this way by stealth, without the usual solemnities, 
 and the splendour suitable to the rank of the parties. 
 
 Marta, the mother of the drowned man, came that 
 morning with her bundle under her arm to take leave of 
 the Count's family, from whom she had received such 
 kind and affectionate hospitality, 
 
 Ermelinda had proposed that they should remain in 
 the house, she and her husband, and he was rather in- 
 clined to it ; but the good old woman, taking him aside, 
 spoke to him in the following manner : 
 
 " Listen, Michael ; the Lord will provide, as he has 
 provided before, for the few days that he leaves to us 
 here below. When our poor Arigozzo (may God have 
 mercy on him) was a child still at my breast, you well 
 remember that the years were harder and more calami- 
 tous even than now ; yet did Providence ever fail us ? 
 Were we ever a burden on any one ? Thanks to the 
 Lord, my sight remains to me, and my fingers are as 
 good as ever ; I will spin all day, and all night, too, if 
 that is not enough. We are common people, we are 
 accustomed to self-denial, but the constraint and high 
 ways of a master we should not know how to bear : we 
 have used ourselves to go bare-foot among flintstones 
 and brambles, bat shoes would hurt our feet. And then, 
 if the Count stays here, as it seems he means to do, do 
 you wish to bury yourself the rest of your life among
 
 290 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 these walls which take away one's breath ? For my part 
 I would not stay here if I was to be made a queen for it. 
 Oh, for our mountains ! for that lake which makes one's 
 heart swell ! those olives, those chestnuts, that lovely 
 sky, as wide as the eye can reach ! while here one must 
 raise one's head to see four spans in front of one ; and 
 all this time I have never been able to learn on which 
 side the sun rises and on which it sets. Our poor, dear 
 old church will be opened again now, as they say the 
 Pope is going to take off the interdict ; are we never to 
 see it again — with the new altar which we have all 
 vowed to put up to Saint Genesio, when the country is 
 blessed again ? And suppose we never heard the bell 
 ring Ave Maria every morning and every evening ? Be- 
 sides, do you count as nothing being with people who 
 speak as we do, rather than here, where it is so difl&cult 
 to understand their gibberish, and in return they 
 jeer at us, as if it was they who were speaking 
 correctly ? " 
 
 At this point she stopped for a moment, and then 
 went on, sighing : 
 
 " Poor fellow, I understand, indeed, what gives you a 
 distaste for those scenes. And do you think they are 
 the same to me as they once were ? before our trouble, 
 
 when our poor boy (Jesu Maria, save him) But 
 
 cheer up, don't let us weep again ; the wiU of Grod be 
 done. What was I going to say ? Do you think that 
 by remaining far away from our country, by not looking 
 on those scenes, that you will be able to lose the thought 
 of him ? No, indeed ; and even if you could, I am sure 
 you would not wish it. Look here, Michael, we will 
 stay there together, and think of him, and pray for him, 
 as long as the Lord leaves us down below to repent of 
 our sins ; and when he calls us to Himself, at least we 
 shall have the comfort of being buried with him." 
 
 The husband, at the end of her appeal, diying his 
 eyes, said : 
 
 " You are right. Marta, you are right ; but you are a 
 strange woman ! you always tell me I must resign my- 
 self, and offer everything to the Lord ; you scold me
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 291 
 
 for lamenting, when you are all the while inciting me to 
 do so with everything yon say." 
 
 The end of it all was, that they, too, determined to go 
 home with the rest of their fellow- villagers. 
 
 So, as we said before, the poor woman, with her 
 bundle under her arm, came to take leave of the Count's 
 family. She made a deep reverence to the master of 
 the house, and kissed the hand of the mistress, who 
 responded with the warmest demonstrations of alfection, 
 which were the more valued in those days when the 
 distinctions of class were far more marked than at pre- 
 sent. For it was an age when public opinion, usages, 
 and laws, seemed utterly to forbid all intermingling 
 between gentlemen and plebeians, as if they were really 
 made of different clay. • 
 
 The Countess had already privately intrusted to the 
 priest a handful of silver coins, to enable him to supply 
 whatever was required by poor Marta and her house- 
 hold, modestly leaving the distribution of it to his dis- 
 cretion, being well acquainted with the delicate and re- 
 served feelings of his mountain flock, and particularly 
 with the careful and self-contained character of the 
 woman herself, who was quite content, not to say proud, 
 of her honest poverty. 
 
 Last of all. Marta came up to Beatrice and offered 
 also to kiss her hand, but she drawing it gently back, 
 placed it instead on her shoulder, and said to her : 
 '• Adieu, good Martha ; think often of me, whom you so 
 often carried as a baby in your arms, and recommend 
 me to the Lord. Adieu !" So saying, the girl turned 
 aside as if to go away ; when suddenly, as if overcome 
 by her feelings, she turned to the old woman, and look- 
 ing up with her great blue eyes full of tears, exclaimed : 
 " To-morrow, when you see from afar our castle tower, 
 greet it for me. How often seated on its summit at 
 dusk, have I seen a tiny light gliding over the surface 
 of the lake, and recognized the song of the fisherman, 
 that sweet song that used to assuage the troubles of my 
 heart during the last days I spent in my beloved home ; 
 I shall never hear it moi'e ! Never again shull I hear
 
 292 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 tlie murmur of the waves rippling against tlie shore — 
 never shall I feel the vpell-known breath of the morning 
 and evening breeze, nor the roar of the coming storm. 
 Oh ! greet for me our dear land, our mountains, and our 
 glorious sky. And when outside the church door jou 
 assemble to raise the evening hymn to the Virgin, 
 remember me who so often knelt, prayed, and sang with 
 you all, and who when detained by some hindrance at 
 the castle, have listened sadly and lovingly to that pious 
 melody, wafted up on the gale, trembling and soft ; 
 then remember me ! Few are the days Grod has allotted 
 me on earth ; and when you hear that my course is run, 
 will you drop a tear to the memory of poor Beatrice, 
 who, born and nurtured among you, hoped to lay her 
 head, tired with the toils of life, in her own dear land, 
 amid the tears and lamentations of those she loved." 
 
 The Count and Ermelinda, astonished, and even sub- 
 dued by the prophetic spirit which seemed to speak 
 from the mouth of their child, remained gazing on her 
 without venturing to interrupt her ; but when she, in 
 her last words, revealed the strong presentiment she 
 had of her early death, they could no longer restrain 
 themselves, but both burst into tears. 
 
 The boatman's wife, to whom the girl's words had 
 been addressed, half beside herself with astonishment 
 and emotion, and yet pleased at hearing her beloved 
 localities spoken of with those inspired accents of me- 
 lancholy attachment, tried, amid her sobs, to take the 
 maiden's hand. She obtained it at last, drew it towards 
 her with gentle force, and impressed her lips on it. 
 
 They remained some moments in silence, Beatrice 
 alone not weeping ; the extremity of her emotion itself 
 stopping the outburst of her grief. At last, when the 
 excitement which had taken possession of her gave way, 
 she felt herself softening, she pressed Marta's hand, 
 which held hers, and said to her again : 
 
 " Farewell. Pray for me." 
 
 And as the old woman left her side, she ran into her 
 mother's arms, hid her face in that tender bosom, and 
 bathed it with burning tears.
 
 MARCO YISCONTI. 293 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 AS soon as the trumpet gave tlie signal for the depar- 
 ture of the Limontese, Beatrice, restraining her 
 tea ?•', dried her eyes, composed her countenance, and 
 then took up her position with her parents in a gallery 
 looking towards the street. The banner of the swan 
 was first seen to issue from the gate, followed by the 
 priest and his flock, two and two, all on their way to the 
 postern gate of Algiso ; the boatman and his wife brought 
 up the rear. Marta, raising her head to salute her bene- 
 factors, was agreeably surprised to see Beatrice quite 
 recovered, and following with her eyes the little party as 
 it moved off. 
 
 It was arranged that the married pair should start for 
 Castelletto the next morning. We need not repeat the 
 hurried advice, mingled with sobs and kisses, which the 
 mother gave her daughter that last evening, and the 
 promises mournfully exchanged between them, which, 
 though thoroughly believed in at the time, were never to 
 be realized. Who can fitly describe the words and tears 
 with which the parents committed their loved one to the 
 care of her husband ; with what earnestness they com- 
 m.ended her to Lupo and Lauretta, who were to accom- 
 pany her to Palestine ? 
 
 At last the fatal hour arrived, and after reiterated 
 embraces, the girl resolutely tore herself finally from her 
 mother's neck, and leaving her in floods of tears, flew 
 down the staircase into the courtyard, mounted the 
 palfrey prepared for her, and set off on her journey. 
 Ottorino, Lupo, Lauretta, and two of the Count's grooms, 
 who were to escort the bridal party as far as Castelletto, 
 mounted their steeds quickly, and followed her. She 
 found the falconer and his wife under the portico, who
 
 294 MARCO VISCOIs'TI. 
 
 were waiting to bid her and tlieir two cliildren farewell ; 
 but at that moment she was so alai'med at the idea of 
 having to encounter another outburst of feeling, that 
 she was eager to hasten her departure from those walls 
 and those friends, whom it cost her so much to abandon, 
 so she galloped past them as if she was flying for her 
 life, without attempting to respond to their adieus. 
 
 Our travellers proceeded for some time in silence along 
 the road leading to Sesto Calende. At last Ottorino 
 laid his hand on the neck of the gentle steed ridden by 
 his bride, and without relaxing their speed, said to her : 
 
 " Do you remember, sweetheart, the hours we passed 
 together on the rock of Morcate ? You were seated be- 
 tween your father and me, and one of your hands was 
 enclosed in mine. It was then that the first hope entered 
 my heart that I might be able to win you one day. 
 How many trials have come upon us since then ; and 
 now you are mine, mine for ever ! Oh, the ineffable 
 sweetness of these words ! You are my only blessing ! 
 I swear to devote my whole life to you, in order some- 
 what to brighten a lot that you have had the courage to 
 share with me ! " 
 
 With these and other loving expressions, the young 
 knight gave vent to the happiness that filled his soul. 
 Beatrice, keeping her gentle eyes fixed on her husband's 
 face, weai'ied out with what she had gone through, and 
 with scarcely vigour enough to understand these affec- 
 tionate expressions, was able to imbibe their general 
 sense, just as a person half awake hears the sound of a 
 sweet melody ; and, in fact, the girl, as she afterwards 
 owned herself, seemed altogether in a dream. 
 
 They went on as far as Grallarate, where they dis- 
 mounted at an inn, intending to rest there for some 
 hours, when lo and behold ! a courier arrived, and in- 
 quiring for Ottorino, handed him a letter. The youth 
 opened it, and was nearly beside himself with surprise 
 on seeing Marco's signature at the bottom. He spoke 
 of having arrived in great haste and secrecy from Lucca, 
 and that he wished to see him at once at Castel Seprio 
 on matters of importance, adding, that he felt he had
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 295 
 
 done him a serious injury, wliicli he was anxious to 
 repair. 
 
 Ottorino was much excited and overcome by the letter. 
 This new incident appeared likely to disarrange every 
 project for the future which he had made, and place him 
 in an entirely different position. The plan of leaving 
 his country, which he had so hastily adopted, seemed, at 
 the time, his only resource in default of a better alter- 
 native ; but there still lurked in his mind a secret desire, 
 and a distant, confused hope of returning some day by 
 favour of his old suzerain. The anger of the young man 
 against Marco was like that of a lover, very ardent and 
 vehement at the time, but easily yielding to any excuse 
 or any act of coui'tesy. Not remembering to have dis- 
 pleased Marco in any other way than by rejecting the 
 daughter of Rusconi, and considering that this was but 
 a slight reason for such a display of implacable hatred, 
 he partly imputed it to the evil influence of some slan- 
 derer, and he felt sure that a day would come when his 
 eyes would be opened, when he would I'eceive him again, 
 and take him to his favour as before. 
 
 It must be remembered that Marco now came himself 
 to seek him out, and offer an apology ; that proud and 
 haughty spirit, whom he had revered and loved to his 
 own hurt, even when the offence was still fresh, and 
 when the anger and shame at having sustained it, was 
 not yet alleviated by the repentance of the offender. 
 
 " I must first go to Castelletto," so spoke Ottorino to 
 the courier ; " but tell whoever sent you, that I will be 
 at Seprio before dark." 
 
 " Oh, pray come at once," was the reply ; " the warder 
 sent me off in such haste, and I have already lost so 
 much time in searching for you." 
 
 " But how did you guess that I was here ? " inquired 
 the knight. 
 
 " I heard from a groom of Count del Balzo's that you 
 had set off in this direction. I followed you immediately, 
 and have not been able to catch you up before." 
 
 " And who gave you the letter ? " 
 
 " The seneschal of Seprio, so lately as last evening.
 
 296 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 He carne there witli a baron, and five or six couriers were 
 at once sent off in different directions." 
 
 " Are you acquainted with that baron ? " 
 
 " No, because I am a stranger in these parts ; but he 
 must be of great importance, to judge by the honour 
 paid him. He is a tall man, in middle life, and very fine 
 
 looking. His face " and he described Marco to a 
 
 hair. 
 
 Ottorino made up his mind that delay, besides being 
 discourteous, would be inexcusable at that crisis, from 
 the serious interests depending on despatch, and resolved 
 on a rapid visit to Seprio, and then to return at once to 
 proceed on his way with his wife. 
 
 Castel Seprio was only about half-an-hour's journey 
 off ; and the going and returning would not take longer 
 than the halt they were to make at Gallarate. He there- 
 fore told the courier to wait for him, and ran gaily off to 
 tell everything to Beatrice. 
 
 " Is it Marco ? " said she, in alarm ; " is it Marco who 
 has sent for you ? Oh, do not go, Ottorino ! Let us 
 escape from that man ; take me to Castelletto." 
 
 " But he is changed, I tell you ; you see that he wishes 
 to excuse himself to me, and to make up for the harm he 
 has done me." 
 
 " Oh, no ! do not go ! let us fly from him, I implore 
 you ! let us fly while we have time ! " 
 
 " Attend to me, my darling," said Ottorino, taking 
 her hand ; " your terror and repugnance are too un- 
 reasonable. After all, what has ever passed between you 
 and him but what was most kind and courteous ? Was 
 it not he who gave Lupo his life, at your entreaty and 
 your father's ? " 
 
 Beatrice, at being reminded of that terrible night, 
 which was always before her, was seized with a shudder 
 of terror, and putting her hand on her husband's shoulder, 
 said : 
 
 " Ah, Ottorino, you do not know all." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" he replied, in surprise. " So 
 you, too, are aware of it. I thought — yes, it is too tnie, 
 the knight who unhorsed me at the joust was Marco ;
 
 MAECO yiSCONTI. 297 
 
 but do you also know that he gave me my life oat of 
 kiiulness ? Do you know that he purposely employed a 
 blunt weapon in the encounter ? " 
 
 She, who in her first agitation was on the point of 
 revealing the secret of Marco's love, saw that a less im- 
 portant meaning had been given to her words, and 
 collecting her thoughts, she remembered the importance 
 of the secret and the strong recommendations of her 
 mother, never to let it transpire to Ottorino, so as not to 
 risk his being placed in deadly opposition to that formid- 
 able personage, so she turned her head away, and was 
 silent. 
 
 Then the youth began to speak so forcibly and feel- 
 ingly of the noble character of Marco, of the generous 
 dignity of his spii'it, and showed such confidence in him, 
 such desire to renew their friendship, to rush into his 
 arms, and explained to her of what importance this 
 reconciliation might be in their common destiny, that 
 she, after much resistance and many words, at last partly 
 from persuasion, and partly from love to him, agreed 
 that he should go to Seprio. 
 
 " You will soon come back, will you not ? " said 
 Beatrice at last. 
 
 " In a couple of hours, at the latest, I shall be here 
 again," replied Ottorino. " I only wish just to see him, 
 and arrange matters. In the meantime you shall stay 
 with Lauretta under the charge of Lupo and your 
 father's tvro grooms." 
 
 "But are you going to take no one with you ? " 
 
 " It is only a short ride, I tell you ; the courier who 
 brought the letter will be with me, and that will be more 
 than sufficient escort, as the country is quiet." So say- 
 ing, he threw his arms round his bride, gave and received 
 a kiss, and was off. 
 
 The two hours spoken of passed away, and a third 
 followed them, and Ottorino did not come. Beatrice 
 remained gazing from the window, and every object she 
 saw moving in the distance from the quarter whence she 
 expected him, seemed to her to be the white plume of 
 his helmet ; every noise she heard she took for the hoofs
 
 298 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 of his horse ; at times she would pace up and down the 
 room with her attendant, and then call Lupo to ask what 
 he could not answer, then she would hurry to the balcony 
 again, and then sit sadly in a corner waiting. Nothing 
 but delay and hope deferred — another and another hour 
 went by, and at last the fifth from the time of his depar- 
 ture, and still Ottorino came not. 
 
 Lauretta's brother at last said to his young mistress, 
 " If you will give me leave, I will go to Castel Seprio, 
 or send there one of your father's grooms." 
 
 " It would be better for you to go yourself," answered 
 Beatrice, " and make him come -nàthout fail : by the 
 time he will return it will be dark, and you will be an 
 escort for him. See what trouble he has left me in ! 
 you must tell him — no, do not distress him because of 
 me — I am sure that he could not have done otherwise — 
 ordy tell him to come back with you, to come back in 
 any case ; beg him in my name not to disappoint me any 
 more." Lupo went out, and she followed him to the 
 door: "Remember," she repeated — "remember not to 
 come away without him ; " and as she looked after him 
 from the window, she made him a sign to emphasize 
 what she had already impressed on him by word of 
 mouth. 
 
 Soon after this, evening came on : and still they 
 waited ; when at last they heard the noise of horses 
 arriving. Beatrice ran to the balcony, crying out : " He 
 is here ! " and the effect of her sudden joy was, that she 
 could hardly breathe. A troop of horsemen stopped 
 before the inn, and she heard a sound of steps coming 
 up the staircase. 
 
 " Is that Ottorino ? .Is it you ? " she said, hastening 
 to meet whoever was coming. But it was not he ; by 
 the light of a lamp she recognized one of her father's 
 grooms, who was ushering in the same man who had 
 brought the letter, and had afterwards departed with 
 Ottorino ; this person, after having made a low bow to 
 Beatrice, told her that he had just come from Seprio, 
 where he had left her husband safe and sound ; that he 
 had not sent any message to her before, as he had been
 
 MARCO TISCOXTI. 299 
 
 hoping every minute to rejoin her, as he had promised ; 
 that now seeing it would be impossible for him to hurry 
 off before the next morning, he had despatched him 
 with an escort of six men, to take her at once to Castel- 
 letto with her maid and the two grooms. 
 
 " And Lupo ? " asked Beatrice. 
 
 " He keeps Lupo with him, as he came to join him, 
 for he wishes to send him to-night on an eiTand for the 
 lord of the castle." 
 
 " And what does he wish me to do ? " 
 
 " Your husband begs you to be of good courage, for 
 you will see him to-morrow morning at Castelletto with- 
 out fail." 
 
 "And will Lupo also be at Castelletto in the morning ?" 
 asked Lauretta. 
 
 " Certainly," answered the courier. 
 
 " Now, if you please," said the Count's groom, " I 
 will prepare the horses." 
 
 Beatrice agreed ; and almost imm.ediately everything 
 was ready, and they set off. The mistress and maid, 
 mounted on their palfreys, were placed between the two 
 men with whom they had just been speaking ; the rest 
 of the party followed at a short distance. 
 
 The night was dark, the weather promised to be bad, 
 and there was no living being to be seen around. When 
 they were at some distance from the town, Beatrice, 
 hearing among the men behind her a noise of quarrel- 
 ling and blows, told the retainer of her father's, who 
 was beside her, to go and settle the dispute that seemed 
 to have arisen. 
 
 But he answered : " They are robbers who are attack- 
 ing us" — and urging on his own horse to a gallop, he 
 took the rein of his mistress's steed, and led it on, while 
 the courier performed the same service to Lauretta's. 
 
 " But listen ! " insisted Count Balzo's daughter — 
 " only listen : it is Ricciardino's voice ; oh, go and 
 help him ! " Ricciardino was the name of the other 
 groom of her father's, who was behind with the armed 
 men from Seprio. 
 
 "Never mind," returned the man, "there are seven
 
 300 MAKCO YISCONTI. 
 
 of tliein well armed ; you need not be afraid for tliem ;" 
 and he continued to urge on the horses as if to take her 
 farther from the dangerous place, and to place her in 
 safety, saying that she was entrusted specially to him, 
 and it was as much as his life was worth should any 
 harm befall her. 
 
 Not long after this the noise ceased, and they jour- 
 neyed on rather more quietly ; Beatrice, wished, however, 
 to learn the issue of the uproar ; she desired to speak to 
 Ricciardino, and to hear from him what had happened : 
 the other groom, who kept with her, after some resis- 
 tance, turned back to inquire ; but soon galloped up again 
 with much apparent alarm, to announce that all the 
 escort had dispersed, and that the thieves were on their 
 track, and so saying he guided the party aside by some 
 cross-roads leading into a wood. They wandered about 
 all night, up and down secluded paths, over heaths, and 
 through thickets ; and at the end of their wanderings 
 could not be more than an hour's distance from where 
 they had first started. The women, who had been 
 thoroughly frightened by their first adventure, were still 
 more so now, after being led to and fro, constantly 
 moving about, without ever arriving anywhere ; the 
 guides, however, very humbly begged Beatrice to keep 
 up her courage, and owned they had lost their way in 
 the confusion, and had got entangled in the wood ; they 
 therefore hoped she would forgive them, and not blame 
 them to her husband, as they had now recovered the 
 road and would soon be at Castelletto. 
 
 Oh ! if the poor creatures had known where they had 
 strayed to, and into whose hands they had fallen ! In- 
 stead of going to Castelletto, they were being conducted 
 to Marco Visconti's castle of Rosate, into the very 
 clutches of Pelagrua ; the Count's groom, who was with 
 Beatrice, was none other than the traitor who had sold 
 himself some time ago to this very Pelagi^ua, and the 
 courier was a bravo of Lodrisio's, as also were the six 
 men who had come fi^om Seprio. All the events of the 
 previous day and that night had been pre-arranged by 
 the two scoundrels, in order to carry off Beatrice from
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 301 
 
 her husband. Their object was to keep her at Marco's 
 disposal — but they wished to do this without causing 
 her too much alarm, and without her perceiving that 
 she was in the power of others from the beginning, and 
 they meant to prepare her gradually for her destiny. 
 
 They had given up their first idea of mastei-ing, by 
 main force, Ottorino and his two followers who had 
 remained faithful to him, and after having considered 
 several plans, they had settled upon the one we have 
 seen put into effect, of separating the young man from 
 his bride by the trick of a forged letter from Marco. 
 As to Lupo, they had arranged to send him a false 
 message from his master, later on in the night ; but this 
 was unnecessary, as we have seen, for he had fallen into 
 the trap at Castel Seprio, as his chief had done before 
 him ; and thus the stratagem had been completed. 
 There remained the other retainer of the Count's, who 
 had nothing to do with this villainy, but what could one 
 unsuspecting man do among so many ? And it would 
 be easy enough also to get rid of him. 
 
 For Pelagrua, the affair appeared at first rather too 
 full of risk ; to carry off a noble young lady and im- 
 prison her ! But Lodrisio, to whom success was of the 
 utmost importance, as well as his schemes of revenge 
 against Ottorino, had managed to silence all his scruples, 
 by pi'oving to him, that in the present state of affairs, 
 there was no other means of obtaining what his chief 
 had expressly ordered ; that necessity must excuse violent 
 action, and the result would justify the means. " It is 
 as if I had told you to snare a partridge, and yon had 
 shot it instead," he said, " do you think I should find 
 fault with you ? " 
 
 In the end they agreed together that they had better 
 leave Marco for some time in the dark as to the abduc- 
 tion, and wait and see how things would turn out ; but 
 as the whole affair could not in the end be concealed 
 from him, they must let him into the secret by degrees, 
 and they must also make it their business to di&'pose 
 their prisoner's mind in his favour, and all this was to 
 be done with as little risk to themselves as possible.
 
 302 MARCO VISCONTI 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 T) EATRICE and her attendant arrived at the Castle 
 J-^ of Rosate at early dawn ; they entered it in the full 
 belief that they were at Castelletto, as they knew nothing 
 of the localities of that spot. They crossed a wide court- 
 yard surrounded by covered galleries, ascended some 
 stairs, and passed through various corridors, till they 
 finally reached a saloon which opened on a further suite 
 of rooms, without meeting a living soul. The treacher- 
 ous groom who had escorted them to this point, now left 
 them, saying he must inform the seneschal of their 
 arrival, that he might come and receive the mistress's 
 orders. 
 
 The mistress and her maid, thus left to themselves, 
 walked through the rooms, which they thought very 
 splendid, provided as they were with every possible com- 
 fort. There were magnificent beds, couches, tables, and 
 mirrors — vases with fragrant waters and essences — fine 
 stuffs and ornaments ; everything, in short, delicate and 
 soft that could be required by a charming and treasured 
 bride. 
 
 Beatrice, who thought she was in her own house, 
 fatig-ued with her long ride, threw herself down in an 
 arm-chair, and while her maid busied herself about her, 
 taking off her soft fur robe and dressing her in one of a 
 lighter texture, which was there ready for her, unfasten- 
 ing her boots, and slipping on her feet a pair of open 
 silken slippers, arranging her hair, pouring water on her 
 hands to restore her, they talked on in the following 
 way: 
 
 " The dawn is breaking," said Beatrice, " and he must 
 soon arrive now." 
 
 "Oh, hardly," replied Lauretta; "why, we are only 
 just arrived ourselves."
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 303 
 
 " But yoTi must remember all the time they made us 
 lose on the road." 
 
 " That is true. Oh, my lady, as soon as your husband 
 comes you must tell him about those wretches ; how they 
 did not know where they were taking us, and made us 
 lose our way, and tormented us for four hours and more, 
 and kept you on horseback all that time ! " 
 
 " Four hours, is it possible ? do you mean we have 
 lost four hours ? " 
 
 " Indeed we have, and more ; from what my brother 
 told me, we ought to have been only two hours coming 
 from Gallarate, and you must remember how long we 
 were riding, and going fast the whole time." 
 
 " Well, at any rate," replied Beatrice, " in four hours 
 Ottorino must certainly be able to get away. Tell me, 
 how far is it from here to Seprio ? " 
 
 " I do not know at all — you know I am not acquainted 
 with this part of the country." 
 
 " How cautious you are ! " cried Ottorino's wife. 
 " Do you think it can be eight miles ? Do say some- 
 thing — does that seem to you too short a distance ? 
 Well, let us say ten, even twelve ; I will say as much as 
 I can — twelve, shall I say ? " 
 
 "Yes, it must be nearly as much as that." 
 
 " Well, that is not much for a man on horseback ! It 
 is soon done ; and he may arrive any moment, so I may 
 expect him now ; don't you expect him also directly ? 
 tell me, for pity's sake." 
 
 " He may of course come very soon, but — if he delays, 
 you must not make too much of it ; for, you know, when 
 men are talking of their business, they cannot be so par- 
 ticular as to an hour or two, more or less." 
 
 " Now you are speaking so that I can understand you ; 
 and you don't think that because of one or two hours' 
 delay I should begin to be alarmed ? I know how many 
 circumstances may occur, and, as I cay, I shan't be 
 frightened — but he may, notwithstanding, arrive di- 
 rectly, and therefore I expect him. I implored him to 
 make haste ! But listen, don't you hear a footstep ? 
 perhaps he has come without our hearing the noise of 
 the horses passing the drawbridge ? "
 
 304 MARCO VISCONTI, 
 
 So sayiDg, slie sprang up to fly to the window, but 
 Lauretta, who was nearer it, reached it before her. The 
 window looked on a gallery with crossed arches divided 
 by slender pillars ; from thence she saw the new arrival, 
 and recognized him befoi'e her mistress had had time to 
 look : so, drawing back her head from the iron grating, 
 she said : " No, no ! it is not they ; who do you think is 
 coming ? It is Pelagrua." 
 
 " Who ? the late steward of the monastery ; the one 
 who was at Limonta ? " 
 
 " The very same," replied the maiden, and continued, 
 " How can he have found his way here ? That man who 
 has fled from the country and has never been heard of 
 since. To tell you the truth, the sight of him does not 
 please me at all ; it's like a bad omen. Oh ! — but why 
 should I frighten you ? " 
 
 " You should put aside such folly. I know very well 
 why he is here, and I might have expected to find him if I 
 hadthoughtabouthim. I will tell you about it afterwards." 
 
 Beatrice remembered how when she was at Varenna 
 with Ottorino, the day after the shipwreck, the youth, 
 now her husband, at the request of the priest of Limonta, 
 had undertaken to provide a refuge for the fugitive ; and 
 as she had never heard of him since, she imagined when 
 she saw him there, that he had been given some office in 
 the castle. 
 
 There was a knock at the door of the ante-room. 
 Lauretta, in obedience to a sign from her mistress, cried 
 out " Come in." The door was thrown open, and Pela- 
 grua appeared. He took ofi! his black velvet cap, and, 
 holding it in his left hand, came forward, bowing low. 
 
 Pelagrua, whom we may now as well describe per- 
 sonally, was a man of fifty years of age, middle height, and 
 a poor, slight form ; his cheeks, of a deathly pallor, never 
 changed their hue for any cause. A thick pair of grey 
 eyebrows shaded piercing black eyes, which but little 
 accorded with the affected humility of his physiognomy 
 — savage eyes, with a cruel and malicious expression — 
 diabolical eyes, which would have condemned the face of 
 the holiest anchorite. As he entered, he fixed them with
 
 MAECO VISCONTI. 305 
 
 affected humility on the ground, but from time to time 
 he raised his head and looked around with the rapidity 
 of lightning, as if to escape the glances of others, like a 
 thief who fears to be taken in the act. 
 
 He approached Beatrice, and bending one knee, he 
 bowed to her and said : " Deign, gracious lady, to accept 
 the homage of one of your most humble vassals, the 
 seneschal of Castelletto." 
 
 " And has the charge of this domain been entrusted to 
 
 you?" 
 
 " Yes, my lady ; so I hope to be able to satisfy the 
 illustrious and gi'acious lady and sovereign of my noble 
 master, to whom I owe faith and affection for my whole 
 life, which itself I owe to his mercy." 
 
 "You may rise," said Beatrice. 
 
 Pelagrua obeyed, and she continued, "My lord and 
 husband chooses his own retainers ; I must always be 
 satisfied with his choice." And then, dropping the 
 ceremonious manner and tone in which these formulas 
 of homage were made and received, the girl, assuming a 
 more natural air, asked him : " Tell me, seneschal, do 
 you think it will be much longer before he is here ? 
 You know he is gone to Seprio." 
 
 " I am aware of it, and I know also that those who 
 escorted you here little deserved that honour ; but do 
 not give another thought to them, my lady, I shall know 
 how to reward them." 
 
 " No, no," interrupted Beatrice, " I do not want them 
 to be punished on my account ; indeed, I forbid it ; all 
 that they did, they did from good motives to obey me 
 and their master, and if they exceeded their instructions 
 — enough, I wish no more to be said about it." 
 
 " Is it possible," interrupted Pelagrua with a gesture of 
 surprise and anger, " that any one could have been so 
 rash ? I cannot believe it. I was only speaking of their 
 unpardonable stupidity in having lost the road, but if 
 any wretch — whoever he may be — he shall repent it." 
 
 " Oh, as to that," exclaimed Lauretta, " I assure you 
 that Count Balzo's daughter — " but her words were cut 
 short by a reproving glance from her mistress. 
 
 X
 
 306 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 The false seneschal, pretending to be quite struck with 
 horror, said to Beatrice, in a voice trembling with sup- 
 pressed indignation, " Permit me, gracious lady, for the 
 honour of the castle — it would be terrible for all, for me, 
 if your noble husband ever heard of it — permit me to 
 learn who was so bold — and I assure you " 
 
 " I have already told you to say no more about it," 
 said Ottorino's wife with a resolute and dignified air, 
 and then, assuming a more affable tone, on seeing the 
 rogue before her bend his head down in confused and 
 mortified silence, " What I asked you," she added, " was 
 whether you knew of any i^eason which may still possibly 
 delay my husband's return ? " 
 
 " If you only knew," answered Pelagrua, with a face 
 of assumed melancholy, " how grieved I am that the 
 first news that I bring you cannot be of an agreeable 
 character ! " 
 
 " What news have you ? " asked Beatrice anxiously. 
 " Have you heard anything fresh ? " 
 
 " A courier from Seprio arrived here a few moments 
 before you did," answered the scoundrel, " with the in- 
 formation that you must not expect him to-day." 
 
 " Not to-day ! and what keeps him there so many 
 hours ? Did the courier see my husband before coming ? 
 did he speak to him ? and what message did he send me ? 
 Go and fetch him directly ! I want to speak to him ; I 
 must speak instantly to the courier. Do you under- 
 stand ? " 
 
 " If you will allow me I can tell you everything ; be- 
 cause really the messenger — I can hardly bring him here, 
 — he spoke with my lord before setting off — he left him 
 in the castle, in company with Lupo and with one of your 
 father's grooms, who arrived there last night. They are 
 safe and sound, all three, for that assault of brigands was 
 really nothing, and he begs you to be of good courage, 
 and the moment that he can despatch some affairs that 
 keep him there, he will fly to you." 
 
 " But when did he say he would return ? at the latest 
 this evening, surely ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, I firmly believe he will be here this evening 
 without fail."
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 307 
 
 " But did he not say so himself for certain ? Go at 
 cuce and fetch the courier for me. Go ! go ! I am not 
 used so often to repeat an order to a vassal." 
 
 Pelagrua bowed low, cringing before her as if asking 
 pai'don, and went off, saying to himself, " Oh, the little 
 proud thing ! Be quiet, you little fool." His bitter and 
 cruel thoughts were compressed into a glance, which 
 the wretch, as he went out of the room, threw back on 
 his prisoner. Have you never seen a fowler, who, while 
 taking a sparrow out of the snare, fixes his eye for a 
 moment on the frightened little bird, who turns to peck 
 at that hand which, with a slight squeeze, could crush 
 its little bones and pound it into a jelly ? Such was the 
 present state of the case. 
 
 As soon as the seneschal had left the room, Beatrice 
 began to count up all the hours that must pass. They 
 seemed to her an eternity — she knew not how to fill the 
 void ; she thought the evening of that day would never 
 come — she lacked the strength to cross that dreary waste 
 of time. She was like a traveller, who, after a long and 
 disastrous journey, arrives weary and spent at the top of 
 a lofty hill which he had considered the end of his pil- 
 grimage ; and, behold, another hill meets his disappointed 
 gaze, beyond which is to be found the promised land, 
 
 Lauretta, who perceived her mistress's depression, now 
 came near her, leant her crossed arms on the table, and 
 bent her head towards her. She fixed her sympathizing 
 gaze on Beatrice, and remaining a moment silent, she 
 looked at her with respectful affection, and said, " Pray 
 remember, one day will not last for ever. You have 
 already gone through many others, this will also come 
 to an end. Please God this blessed evening will come 
 at last ; I know it must appear very hard to you, but 
 you must cheer up. It is not as if you were in want of 
 anything. You have only to speak to have what you 
 wish done ; the seneschal said just now to me as he 
 went out, that it was for you to command, and all here 
 to obey." 
 
 Beatrice, whose mind was pre-occupied, instead of 
 answering, only exclaimed, as if following out her own
 
 oUO MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 thouglits, " Well, he has, at any rate, Lupo with him, 
 and my father's groom." 
 
 " That is what I tell you," went on the waiting-maid, 
 pursuing' this new train of thought. " Tou are quite 
 right, he is in good company and friendly quarters, and 
 you should not be anxious, but have a little patience. 
 The misfortune is, that you set your heart so much on 
 either finding him here, or on his arriving directly. You 
 must remember, that the time appears long to us who 
 are waiting here without anything to do, but a busy man 
 sometimes cannot get away. Now do be at peace till 
 this evening, when I really believe he will come — but, 
 of course, there's a chance against it." 
 
 " Oh, what a chatterbox you are," interrupted Beatrice, 
 who could not bear to have her own secret doubts even 
 hinted at. She was like one, who, though trembling 
 privately at some danger, is furious against anyone who 
 mentions it publicly. " The idea of saying he may not 
 come this evening ! You put me out of patience." 
 
 " Forgive me ! I was wrong — it was not that I believed 
 it, but that I thought there might be a chance " 
 
 " There is no chance about it— it is mere folly to think 
 of it. If he had the whole world on his shoulders, he 
 would come all the same. He might, perhaps, go there 
 again if he was obliged, but he would come and see me, 
 if he had not even time to dismount from his horse. 
 That is certain. Now we must hear what this courier 
 says. The seneschal seems to find it very difl&cult to 
 bring him — this delay even begins to annoy me. What 
 can he be doing all this time ? " 
 
 What is he doing ? Oh, poor child, if you only knew ! 
 Pelagrua is spending the time in instructing a bravo of 
 his to act Ottorino's courier, in order to deceive her more 
 perfectly. 
 
 When the two rogues had arranged everything, they 
 came up to act their parts. 
 
 The man who was to represent the courier, was an 
 old rogue escaped from the galleys, whom Pelagrua had 
 unearthed from a wretched hovel close to the castle, 
 where he supported himself by begging. The wretched
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 309 
 
 man squinted, he had a large scar right across his tem- 
 ples, his hair and beard were red. As he entered the 
 lady's presence he pretended to stumble, and came for- 
 ward, reeling and staggering about. 
 
 Beatrice was frightened, and jumped up ; but Pela- 
 grua came near and said in a low voice to her, with his 
 usual submissive air, pointing to his companion, " He is 
 a good fellow really — it is a pity that he drinks too much. 
 That is the reason I was afraid to bring him before you, 
 but you see I have obeyed you. He arrived a little 
 excited, and ever since then he has been drinking in- 
 cessantly, so that he is quite stupefied. If, however, 
 you wish to question him, I hope he will be able to 
 answer." 
 
 " Ask him if he saw my husband before leaving," said 
 Beatrice. 
 
 Pelagrua went up to the pretended drunkard, and 
 striking him on the shoulder : " Attend to me. Mastino," 
 he said to him. " My lady asks you if you saw the 
 knight yourself, whose message you have brought from 
 Castel Seprio ? " 
 
 " The knight," replied the wretch, stammering and 
 stuttering, " did I see the knight ? Why, it was he who 
 gave me that bottle I told you of. Ah, what wine it 
 was ! and this stufi is not bad either — only a little 
 rough " 
 
 The seneschal interrupted him by asking " What did 
 he tell you before dismissing you ? " 
 
 " He said nothing but ' Drink a bottle to my health,' 
 and I have drunk it — and I have sent two other bottles 
 to keep the first company, and all to his health, for he is 
 a good knight, and is not one of your stingy ones, like 
 some others I know of." 
 
 " Now, try and attend. Mastino ; was there anyone 
 else with him ? " 
 
 " Did I not tell you I was there ? " 
 
 " I ask if there was anyone besides ? " 
 
 " Yes ; there was one other." 
 
 " And who was that ? " 
 
 " Why, of course, himself."
 
 310 MARCO TISCONTI. 
 
 " Himself ? " 
 
 " Yes, the knight, confound yon ; why shouldn't he be 
 there ? " 
 
 Pelagrua, shrugging his shoulders, turned to Beatrice, 
 as if to say : ' ' You see that nothing can be got out of him . ' ' 
 But the poor child, who was so terribly anxious to know 
 something about her husband, said to the seneschal : 
 " Do try and make him answer about the return this 
 evening." 
 
 "I will do my best," replied the traitor; and taking 
 his comrade by the arm, he gave him a shove, and 
 called out to him ; " Are you going to keep us waiting 
 for a week ? " and then asked him : " Did that noble 
 gentleman say he was coming here this evening ? " 
 
 " What ! do you say it is evening ? " exclaimed the 
 rascal, bursting into a coarse, ill-conditioned laugh. He 
 then drew back a little, pointed with an unsteady finger 
 at Pelagrua, and then trying ineffectually to stand firm 
 on his legs, he cried out hoarsely, " He says it is evening 
 when it is not yet vesper time. Get out, you fool ! How- 
 ever, bring me something to drink, as my throat burns 
 as if the devil were inside it." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, you buffoon, and tell me what I 
 ask about to-night ! " 
 
 " Yes, yes ; he'll come to-night certainly." 
 
 Beatrice felt quite comforted, but only for a short 
 time, for the seneschal came close to the wretch, and 
 bawled into his ear : 
 
 " But did not you tell me he was coming to-morrow 
 morning ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes ; to-morrow morning, certainly." 
 
 " Now, do collect your senses ; is it to-night, or to- 
 morrow morning ? " 
 
 Hereupon the pretended drunkard began to sing a 
 drunken catch, in a voice like a crow. 
 
 But Pelagrua, giving him a good cuff on the mouth, 
 cried out : " Hold your tongue, you blackguard ! " 
 
 The poor young lady, disgusted with this scene, 
 motioned to the seneschal to take the wretch away. 
 " Send off a trusty man on horseback at once," she
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 311 
 
 said. " He must take this letter to Castel Seprio and 
 bring back the answer — he must be here in three hours 
 at latest, or he will be answerable to me." The seneschal 
 replied, with a low reverence, that she should be obeyed, 
 and left the room pulling the rascal after him, who 
 allowed himself to be dragged like a sack, reeling from 
 right to left, and crying out : " Where are you taking 
 me ? We are all drunk ! " The door was at last shut, 
 and the two wretches had even reached the staircase, but 
 the poor woman still heard that ribald voice crying out : 
 "We are all drunk here."
 
 312 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " V/'OUR liusband says that he will not be able to make 
 
 -*- his ari'angements for your journey to the Holy 
 Land till the end of the month ; so, my child, I promise 
 to come and see you, with your father, once more before 
 then. We will take leave of each other at Castelletto. 
 Now, God bless you — in a week at . the latest, we shall 
 meet again." 
 
 Such had been the last words which Ermelinda had 
 uttered, when she tore herself weeping from Beatrice's 
 arms on the day of their separation. When the ap- 
 pointed time came, the good mother mounted on horse- 
 back at her husband's side, and escorted by two retainers, 
 they departed from Milan before dawn, and arrived by 
 rapid stages at Castelletto. 
 
 Ambrose, the falconer, was one of the two attendants 
 — he wished to see once again his children, Lauretta 
 and Lupo, before they also went to the Holy Land. 
 
 On reaching a plain in front of the fort, our riders 
 saw the towers, walls, and balconies decorated as for a 
 wedding. Ottorino's banner was flying on the topmost 
 pinnacles, whilst shields of various forms and colours, 
 emblazoned with his arms and emblems, hung from the 
 battlements ; rich hangings stretched from turret to 
 turret, while on the rampart were planted large 
 branches, and even whole trees, beautifully festooned 
 with green leaves and flowers ; at intervals, there were 
 erected fantastic arbours, with little pennons on the top. 
 Yet the appearance of all that preparation showed, that 
 the festivities for which it was intended had been over 
 for some time, as the leaves on the shrubs, and the fes- 
 toons on the trellises, were faded and drooping. 
 
 Count Balzo, after having stopped a moment to con- 
 temjDlate the scene, turned chuckling to his wife, and
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 313 
 
 said, " See, the wedding decorations have not been taken 
 down." 
 
 As soon as the little party were descried from the 
 castle, two servitors were sent to meet them, clad in 
 short jackets embroidered with blue and white, each 
 holding a silver wand ; one of whom politely asked the 
 falconer, who was a little in front, the names of the lord 
 and lady who were about to honour the castle with their 
 presence. 
 
 " They are Count and Countess del Balzo," he replied. 
 On hearing this the questioner blew his horn, when a 
 party of armed men issued from the gate, and drew up 
 in two rows on either side of the drawbridge, to receive 
 the new comers. Soon afterwards, a chime of bells was 
 heard from one of the towers, which was, however, 
 drowned in its turn by shouts of revelry from the 
 interior of the castle. Our travellers, after passing 
 through a long passage, found the coui-tyard looking 
 like a fair. A crowd of men, women, and boys, in gala 
 dresses, came to meet them with shouts of welcome, 
 echoed by a quantity of jugglers with dancing dogs, and 
 a band of musicians, playing on every kind of instrument 
 in vogue at that period. 
 
 The falconer leapt to the ground and was coming to 
 help his mistress to dismount, when a red-faced, pursy 
 individual, came rushing through the people to meet 
 them. This was the seneschal, who motioned to Am- 
 brose to stand aside, and just got up in time to fulfil 
 his duty of holding the lady's stirrup. There he stood, 
 puffing and blowing, scarcely able to say a word, and in 
 the meantime bowing and scraping incessantly, to show 
 his anxiety to pay them every attention, and his relief 
 that they were at last arrived. 
 
 " Welcome !" at last he exclaimed, having recovered 
 his breath. " Welcome to the noble chatelaine from her 
 faithful Heges ! " But suddenly raising his head, and 
 looking up into the face of the lady ho was addressing, 
 he seemed suddenly confused and dumbfounded, mut- 
 tered something to himself, and then continued aloud, 
 and with an interrogatory accent :
 
 314 MAECO VISCONTI. 
 
 " The lady motlier of our noble lady and mistress, I 
 presume ? " 
 
 " Exactly so," replied Ermelinda. 
 
 And the seneschal, motioning to the spectators to draw 
 back, and let the lord and lady pass, conducted them to 
 a magnificently- furnished room on the ground-floor, 
 where the new guests found a number of maids, pages, 
 and lackeys, ready to attend to them. 
 
 While Ermelinda, having seated herself, was greeting, 
 with her usual kind politeness, some damsels who came 
 to meet her, the Count took a turn about the hall, with 
 his hands behind his back, stopping from time to time to 
 examine the pictures on the walls. 
 
 " Is not that a portrait of Pico ?" he asked the 
 seneschal, who was in close attendance on him. 
 
 " Yes ; of Pico Visconti, father of my noble master," 
 was the answer with another deep bow. 
 
 "And this one," went on the Count, "is Maffeo, is it 
 not ? " 
 
 Just then the fat man felt his coat pulled by a page, 
 who said, " The lady is asking for you." 
 
 " Yes ; that is Maffeo, my master's uncle," answered 
 the seneschal, adding afterwards, " With your permis- 
 sion I must go and attend on your noble lady, who has 
 sent for me ; " and, so saying, he hurried up to Erme- 
 linda, who asked him cheerfully, " And where are the 
 bride and bridegroom ? have you told them of Count 
 Balzo's arrival ? " 
 
 " The bride and bridegroom ! " repeated the worthy 
 man, not knowing what to make of the question. 
 
 " Yes ; where are they ? " said the Countess in such 
 a natural manner that he could no longer doubt her 
 meaning. 
 
 " But are they not still with you ? " 
 
 " Oh, I understand now ! they must have come to 
 meet us," said Ermelinda, smiling; "and we mis.sed 
 them ; they, no doubt, took another road. You had 
 better send a messenger off at once to fetch them 
 back." 
 
 The seneschal now became rather disturbed. " Do
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 315 
 
 you mean," lie said, "that they have not been staying 
 with you ? they have never arrived here. My master 
 ordered me to be ready to receive him a week ago, but 
 he has never appeared here — and I thought he was all 
 this time in your house at Milan." 
 
 " Count ! " cried Ermelinda, springing up and rushing 
 towards her husband ; " imagine, they are not here ! " 
 
 " Whom do you mean ? " 
 
 " The children — Beatrice and Ottorino. He says he 
 has not seen them ! " and she pointed to the seneschal, 
 who, alarmed at the sudden terror which overspread the 
 lady's countenance, stood motionless, not knowing what 
 to do or say. 
 
 " What is it you tell us, seneschal ? " stammered the 
 Count ; " that they have not arrived yet ? " 
 
 " Certainly not. I beheved they were at Milan." 
 
 "And they did not come here Saturday in last 
 week ? " 
 
 " Alas ! no ; neither on Saturday nor any other day." 
 
 " And have you had no news of them — no courier ? " 
 
 " Nothing, as I tell you." 
 
 " It is not possible ! What can have happened ? they 
 must surely have sent some tidings of themselves. And, 
 besides, they have so many preparations to make for 
 their journey." 
 
 " Oh, I fear some evil has befallen them ! " exclaimed 
 Ermelinda ; " some band of robbers may have attacked 
 them ! " 
 
 " Grracious lady," interrupted the seneschal, "pray 
 believe me, the country is tranquil ; a knight might 
 travel through it night and day with his legs on his 
 steed's neck." (This was a way they had at that time 
 of expressing that there was no danger of enemies or 
 marauders. ) 
 
 "And then," broke in the Count, "they were not 
 alone ; besides the waiting maid, Ottorino had with him 
 his squire and two armed men, whom I sent with him ; 
 so they were altogether four men and two women, and 
 such a party cannot disappear in this way from off the 
 face of the earth."
 
 316 MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 " But, then, wliere can they be ? " insisted Ermelinda, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " I have been proving to you," answered her husband, 
 " that you must not at once think the worst. It does 
 seem as if heaven only knows where they are. But, you 
 see, six persons cannot vanish without leaving some trace 
 behind." 
 
 " Is it possible they can have been lost in the Ticino ? " 
 said the poor lady. 
 
 " Oh no, it is not full at this season — and then it would 
 have been known. What say you, seneschal ? " 
 
 " Well," answered he in a drawling voice, shrugging 
 his shoulders, and then seemed to have nothing more to 
 say — but catching sight of the face of the Countess, he 
 saw her quite frightened at his dubious answer, so added 
 quickly, " oh, certainly ! I think also, if anything serious 
 had happened we should have heard." 
 
 In the meantime the crowd under the portico had in- 
 creased, and were struggling with each other to procure 
 good places at the windows, to behold the new comers. 
 
 Some said that the arrivals were the bride and bride- 
 groom — others would have it that they were still on the 
 road, while all were anxious to make sure of the fact with 
 their own eyes. It was, however, impossible to ascertain 
 the true state of the case, as a good many, who had only 
 seen Ermelinda in a confused sort of way through the 
 window panes, amid a crowd of people, insisted that she 
 was not the bride's mother, but the bride herself ; so 
 that there arose a grand dispute pro and coii. ; some 
 calHng out, " Long live the Count and Countess del 
 Balzo ! " others, " Long live Ottorino ! long live 
 Beatrice ! long live the bride and bridegroom ! " 
 
 Ermelinda, vexed and disturbed by these festive 
 shouts, so ill-timed, begged the seneschal to send every- 
 one quietly away. He accordingly went out, and in a 
 moment all the vassals dispersed, some through the 
 corridors and inner courts, others through the gates, 
 and no one was left in the courtyard except about ten 
 or a dozen jesters. These, although they had been 
 amply lodged and fed while waiting for the bridal
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 317 
 
 party, did not, however, seem willing to go away empty- 
 handed, but waited to be dismissed with a present, as 
 was the custom of that age. The seneschal sent to 
 fetch the presents already prepared, and distributed 
 them according to every one's deserts. 
 
 One alone among them refused to accept his largesse. 
 
 " Not that I want a smarter garment, nor that I am 
 more eager for money than my noble comrades," said 
 this individual; "I have no wish to give myself airs, 
 but I will not leave this castle without having seen the 
 master's face ; and whatever I accept shall be from his 
 hands." 
 
 " The master is not here," replied the seneschal, 
 brusquely, " If you want it, take it ; " and he bran- 
 dished in front of his face a hood lined with fur, which 
 was the present destined for him. 
 
 " What ? Ottorino not here ! " persisted the jester, 
 determined not to give up his point. " Then tell me, 
 who the lord was who arrived just now on horseback ? " 
 
 " It was the Count del Balzo." 
 
 " Count del Balzo ? Take me to him, for he is a friend 
 of mine — tell him I am Tremacoldo, and that I have 
 something to tell him." 
 
 While the seneschal was sending off the vassals, and 
 distributing the presents to the jesters, the Count and 
 Countess, left to themselves, confused and amazed as 
 they were, spent their time in asking each other a hun- 
 dred questions, though well knowing they could not be 
 answered ; and proposed various schemes, without re- 
 solving on any one in particular. 
 
 At last a bright idea struck Ermelinda. " Perhaps," 
 she said, " among so many people, there may be some 
 one who can enlighten us." 
 
 "You are right," replied the Count; "I will go at 
 once, and order an inquiry to be made, before everybody 
 has gone away." So he went out at once under the 
 colonnade to speak to the seneschal, and found him 
 there with Tremacoldo, who would not be shaken off. 
 The jester, on seeing Count Balzo, at once ran to meet 
 him ; and taking off his cap, wtich made all the bells
 
 318 MAECO VISCONTI. 
 
 ring, made him a low comic bow, and began to say, " I 
 was just arguing with this rogue, who wished to send 
 me off as if I was a cut-throat, but I came here expressly, 
 because I heard that Ottorino " 
 
 " What ? do you know any news of him ? Here, 
 come inside," said the Count, eagerly, and taking Trema- 
 coldo by the hand, he led him into the hall. On his 
 entrance, he said to Ermelinda, " This man knows some- 
 thing of our children." 
 
 The Count's wife ran to meet the jester, and besought 
 him to tell her what he knew, and whether he had heard 
 any reports of them. 
 
 " But what is the meaning of all this ? " replied Tre- 
 macoldo, quite astonished at the excitement that was 
 going on all round him. 
 
 " I ask you if you have seen Ottorino and Beatrice ? " 
 repeated the mother anxiously. 
 
 " No, indeed, I have not seen them." 
 
 " Then have you heard anything of them ? " 
 
 " Yes, I heard that they were not yet arrived at Cas- 
 telletto ; so I thought to myself, the festivities can't be 
 over in that case, so I came on at once — a little late, it 
 is trne, but " 
 
 " And what were they saying at Sesto ? " 
 
 " Nothing at all — what would you have them say ? 
 And so I came along, and on the road composed a 
 wedding song." 
 
 " But was there no one who had seen or heard of 
 them ? " 
 
 " No one ; and to go on with what I was saying — I 
 had prophesied this wedding at Ballano, so yon see I had 
 more right than anyone else to make a ballad about it, 
 and here is the very article." So saying, he threw his 
 cloak back, put his hand into his bosom and drew out a 
 paper, which he politely offered to ErmeHnda. But in 
 performing this action he uncovered his left side, so that 
 the Count, who was close to him, saw the handle of a 
 dagger shine which Tremacoldo had in his girdle, and 
 recognized it as the dagger of one of the grooms whom 
 he had sent with the bridal pair on their journey to 
 Castelletto.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 319 
 
 " Where did you get that dagger ? " he inquired in 
 alarm. 
 
 " What dagger ? " 
 
 " The one you have there." 
 
 The jester drew it from his side, and put it into the 
 Count's hands, answering, " I bought it yesterday from 
 an armourer at Gallarate." 
 
 " What is it ? oh, tell me," asked Erm elinda. 
 
 " It is Ricciardino's dagger," exclaimed the Count. 
 And his words caused the lady to become deadly pale, 
 and to tremble violently. 
 
 " I see," said the jester to himself, " that I have put 
 my foot into a difficulty, and I shan't get out of it for 
 nothing." He looked slyly towards the door of the hall, 
 saw his good horse fastened to a pillar of the portico, the 
 doors wide open, the bridge lowered, and thought for a 
 moment of escaping ; but he soon gave up the idea. 
 "No," he said to himself, " Tremacoldo is able to hold 
 his head up wherever he goes. I will not have anyone 
 suspect me of sharing in any villainy. I will wait here, 
 and see what it all means." 
 
 "'^ To the storm of questions which followed, the jester 
 could only repeat his former answers. He, however, at 
 last got a clue to the meaning of all these complications, 
 which he could not comprehend at first ; for he now saw 
 that it referred to the disappearance of Ottorino, his 
 wife, and their suite, in which, as he then learnt, Lupo 
 was included. So Tremacoldo, moved by the distress 
 of the two poor parents, and remembering the kindness 
 with which Ottorino and Lupo had always treated him, 
 and attracted besides by a love for adventure — so 
 powerful in those days, especially when a lady was in the 
 case — resolved to try and trace out the missing party by 
 means of the slight clue he held in his hand, and throw 
 what light he could on this mystery. He imparted his 
 generous determination to Ermelinda and the Count 
 with such tenderness and goodwill, that he quite gained 
 their affections. 
 
 The Count warmly accepted the offer, and said to 
 Tremacoldo, " Had not you better take one of my at-
 
 320 MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 tendants with yoii ? Ambrose sliall go, if you like, as 
 he is father to Lupo and Beatrice's waiting-maid, who 
 has also disappeared with the rest ; he is a discreet and 
 honest man, and you may depend upon his anxiety to 
 find out all he can." 
 
 " No, no," answered the jester, " these are not aifairs 
 for more than one to be mixed up in ; and a servant of 
 yours showing himself, would spoil everything. Leave 
 it all to me, and let me know where I am to find you 
 when I have anything to tell." 
 
 " We will arrange it in this way," answered Erme- 
 linda. " We Avill stay three days more at Castelletto, 
 exclusive of to-day. If the Lord, in His mercy, sends 
 us good news, we shall hear it sooner where we are. 
 Your efforts may thus be superfluous, and we may the 
 sooner be released ; but if He tliinks fit to prove us with 
 a longer trial, after that time you will find us at Milan. 
 Listen to me, my friend," she continued ; " I know that 
 in this work of charity you have quite another kind of 
 reward in view, but nevertheless, accept my assurance, 
 that from henceforth you shall not need to play the lute 
 for your daily bread.." 
 
 " I return you many thanks," replied the jester, "but 
 it makes no difference. I tell you from my heart, that 
 I would willingly give, not only the bread I gain by my 
 instrument, but the instrument itself, which is as dear 
 to me as a brother, and in addition, the fingers with 
 which I play on it, to see you relieved and happy." 
 
 " May God reward you ! " 
 
 " And in short, you see, it will be apiece of good luck 
 for me, if my lute can be employed in a work of mercy, 
 before being changed into a psalter, as I hope to do 
 soon ; and who knows if you, perhaps, may not make 
 this cha^nge easier ? " 
 
 " The jester is a priest," broke in the Count, to ex- 
 plain to his wife these words, which she otherwise would 
 not have understood ; " and now that the interdict is 
 removed, he wishes to give up his present calling and 
 resume his former one, and he, no doubt, hopes you will 
 use your good ofiices for him with the legate, your 
 uncle."
 
 MAUCO VISCONTI. 321 
 
 " Just SO," said Tremacoldo. " I am sure you will do 
 the best you can for me. But, however," he added, " as 
 long as I carry on my present trade, I must do so with 
 sprightliness and grace, but where was there ever seen 
 before, a buffoon who had to act in this way, and talk 
 piously like a Franciscan, not to say like a canon ? It 
 is really a shame and an abuse, both of the priest's cap 
 and the minstrel's lute." Here he made a deep reve- 
 rence, and went out humming a tune. 
 
 " Minstrel, would'st thou charm the Court ? 
 
 Gay and blithe then must thou be, 
 With grim death must, laughing, sport, 
 
 And deride his agony. 
 Ever festive, ever gay. 
 Though the world should pass away," 
 
 After leaving the gate, he turned behind a i-^velin, so 
 that they could hear no more of the words of his song. 
 The Count followed him, and having rejoined him under 
 the portico, laid a hand on his shoulder and said, " Listen 
 to me, Tremacoldo. While you are working for us, you 
 will want — I know — you are not rich, and this will do 
 you no harm." And as he spoke he tried to slip into 
 his pocket a purse with money, but he, stepping back 
 and putting his hand behind him, replied : 
 
 " No, to-day I will take nothing ; that's to say, on 
 this particular day, and for this particular matter, I 
 don't want any reward." 
 
 " Perhaps, instead of money, you would prefer " 
 
 " I neither want money nor anything else ; look here, 
 am I not rich ? I have still a piece of that chain which 
 Ottorino gave me, and here it is, hanging round my 
 neck. I could live like a prince on one of the rings a 
 day, so you see that I have got my larder provided for 
 a good time to come." So saying, he sprung on his 
 horse, which was the one he had won, or rather which 
 had been given him by Arnaldo Vitale, the day he had 
 run against him at the quintain, set off at a foot's pace 
 towards the bridge, and resumed the ditty which had 
 been interrupted by the Count.
 
 322 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 " Love sick youths, and Maidens fair. 
 
 Men and women, one and all 
 Who for this or that will care. 
 
 As your whim may chance to fall. 
 Be you rich or be you gay, 
 Come and keep youth's holiday. 
 
 " For the merry rebeck's sound 
 
 Scatters care and foul disease, 
 'Gainst ill-omens famous found, 
 
 Even jealous pangs will ease — 
 Be you rich or be you gay, 
 Come and keep youth's holiday." 
 
 Three days having passed without any news, our poor 
 afflicted travellers returned to Milan ; but in the mean- 
 time Tremacoldo had not gone to sleep. The first thing 
 he did was to go straight to the shop of the armourer, 
 who had sold him the dagger, and pretending that he 
 wanted to buy a whole suit of armour for a knight, he 
 led him on from one subject to another, till at last they 
 adjourned to a wine shop. Here they emptied a bottle 
 together, and when he saw the armourer somewhat 
 elated, and inclined to chatter, he began to sound and 
 pump him in a round-about way, until he had squeezed 
 him diy, as the saying is. 
 
 His companion told him that he had had that dagger 
 to sell, together with a number of other knick-knacks ; 
 it had been given him by a relation of his, a vassal and 
 factor of certain nuns living at Rescalinda, and that his 
 relative had acquired it as his share of the plunder of 
 some knights who had been captured one night by 
 brigands, Ijut as to what had become of the prisoners, 
 he did not know, so could give no information. 
 
 Possessed of this evidence, Tremacoldo would have 
 wished to press forward to discovery — but how was he 
 to present himself to the factor ? How could he enter 
 into particulars without giving cause for suspicion ? 
 He therefore spent the week in discussing his pretended 
 bargain with the armourer, holding out constant hopes 
 of closing, and then postponing final settlement from 
 day to day, till at last Sunday arrived. This Sunday 
 was the great feast-day of the district ; there were to be
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 323 
 
 sports, and ceremonies, and a great concourse of people 
 from all the neigliboui-hood. This was of course the 
 natural sphere of a jester ; wherever there were likely to 
 be tumults and crowds, there was his place. On the 
 Saturday before, our Tremacoldo came with his lute 
 round his neck, to fetch the armourer, and they both set 
 off together. On the road he did everything in his 
 power to ingratiate himself with his companion ; flatter- 
 ing and coaxing — he tried everything ; and the result 
 was, that the numbskull offered to take him to his rela- 
 tion's house, and he, after some persuasion, accepted the 
 invitation. 
 
 The steward of the nunnery, to whom the armourer 
 presented the jester as his customer and friend, was very 
 well pleased to lodge him. 
 
 In the evening, Tremacoldo sang, played on the lute, 
 and cracked numberless jokes, such as the company had 
 never heard equalled ; he spent the night there. In the 
 morning, he went to pursue his vocation at the fair, and 
 returning to dinner, he found sis or seven armed men 
 who had been invited, and immediately made up his 
 mind that they were the accomplices of his host in the 
 affair, the rights of which he had so much at heart to 
 discover. 
 
 They sat down to table, eat and drank, shouted and 
 gabbled. Tremacoldo kept his ears open, noticed every 
 word and gesture, but could detect nothing. He felt he 
 must bring matters to a point. 
 
 It happened that towards the end of the repast, a 
 roasted peacock was placed on the table. This dish was 
 reserved strictly for knightly banquets, but the steward, 
 in private, among friends and relations, and on a feast- 
 day, did not scruple to serve something unlawful to do 
 honour to his guests. 
 
 " It belongs to the jester," said Tremacoldo, " to carve 
 the peacock, for we enjoy the privileges of chivalry, 
 though we are not knights," and as he spoke he drew 
 his newly-acquired dagger from his side, and plunged it 
 into the body of the splendid bird, which occupied the 
 centre of the table, as if to take possession of it. The
 
 324 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 eyes of all the guests were immediately turned on this 
 weapon, the silver handle of which shone brilliantly, and 
 on the part of the blade which was not inserted in the 
 flesh, might be distinguished gilded flourishes ; the sol- 
 diers looked at each other, and one said in a decided 
 tone : " Do you mark that ? " Then the master of the 
 house, winking at one of the guests who sat opposite 
 him, said, " By-the-bye, what became of those two 
 simpletons ? " 
 
 " The raountaineer we have still shut up in the for- 
 tress," was the answer : " the other has changed his 
 cage, but I don't think he'll sing there much longer." 
 
 " I understand," said Tremacoldo to himself; I^ut he 
 looked as if nothing had happened. 
 
 When the meal was finished, and the tables cleared, 
 the soldiers invited the new guest and the rest of the 
 party to crack a bottle with them at the castle, which 
 was only a stone's-throw off. They went there all 
 together, and the jester performed such prodigies in his 
 music and singing — improvised such cheerful, jolly 
 songs and quartettes, which, at the same time, were so 
 full of point, and so well adapted to the tastes of those 
 lawless men, that he soon won all their hearts, and when 
 he got up to go in the evening, they made him promise 
 to return the next Sunday, as there was always some 
 fun going on that day in the castle, and there was to be 
 a quintain match. This he agreed to do, but before 
 going out, he kept his eyes well open, and by the scraps 
 of information he obtained, first from one, and then 
 from another, he became pretty certain that Lupo was 
 in the castle, and was shut up in a room looking out on 
 the moat on the north side. 
 
 At nightfall, the good minstrel, enveloped in his 
 cloak, made a round of the fort, and after looking well 
 about him to see that the coast was clear, he went on 
 the esplanade up to the window he had his eye on, and 
 having found means to communicate with Lupo, made 
 him understand that he was come to liberate him. The 
 window in question was barricaded by two enormous 
 iron bars, and the wall was thick and massive, so that
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 325 
 
 there seemed no possibility of putting tlieir scheme into 
 execution. 
 
 " The door that leads into the interior is not so inac- 
 cessible," said Lupo, "but supposing I were able to pick 
 the lock and get out, we should then be but at the 
 beginning, for I should only find myself inside the 
 castle, with the drawbridge raised, and the gates closely 
 guarded." 
 
 " I'll see if I can't get over that difficulty," answered 
 the jester, and told him that he had arranged to return 
 there the next Sunday, and before that day he would 
 come to see him again. 
 
 After turning the matter over and over again in his 
 mind, Tremacoldo had two buffoon's costumes made 
 exactly like one another, with certain strange caps, 
 having beneath them a silk net, to imitate chain armour, 
 which could be drawn over the face and represent a 
 visor. 
 
 No one could be surprised at any costume worn by 
 those whose trade is to make others laugh. In the 
 middle of Saturday night, Tremacoldo took one of these 
 costumes and caps under his arm, and repairing to 
 Lupo's prison, he stood on the edge of the moat, and by 
 the heljD of a pole, he passed them in to him separately, 
 explaining to him how he was to use them. They then 
 an'anged their plans, localities, and hours ; settled on 
 some signals, and then, " Good night ! Help yourself, 
 and God will help you," said the minstrel as he took his 
 leave. 
 
 The desired Sunday morning came at last. The 
 jester arrived at the castle in a novel di'ess, with a parti- 
 coloured cap, and found all the party inside ready to 
 welcome him. He sung, played, danced, and performed 
 endless tricks, and drawing over his face the silk net- 
 work we have mentioned, kept lifting it up and dropping 
 it again, chattering all the time. At last came the mo- 
 ment appointed for the quintain match, in which the 
 soldiers of the castle were to contend with some other 
 men-at-arms from a neighbouring fort. After a few 
 rounds, Tremacoldo presented himself before the most
 
 326 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 successful player, offering to run two lances against him, 
 and whoever was adjudged to be the winner should have 
 as his prize the horse of the other. 
 
 " Hallo, my friend ! " called out the man whom he had 
 challenged, in a voice like a bull — a dark young fellow, 
 covered with hair, and as ugly as sin ; " don't think you 
 are going to get off with one of your tricks as you did 
 down at Milan on the day of the tournament, for you 
 won't find such a simpleton as you did then, I can tell 
 you." 
 
 " What's the good of telling me that ? " replied the 
 buffoon ; " the cask can only yield the wine it contains ; 
 who ever tried to draw blood out of a stone, or to find a 
 knight's politeness under an ass's skin ? " 
 
 Everybody laughed at this sally except the great brute 
 at whom it was aimed, who knitted his brows and glared 
 fiercely at the jester ; but the latter, without seeming to 
 notice him, came close up to him, and said with one of 
 his comic grins, " Look here, my jewel, this isn't quite 
 fair play ; your horse is a great coarse beast, and mine 
 is an elegant little swan in comparison." 
 
 " That's true," said one of the leaders ; "bring another 
 horse for Tremacoldo, and let his be taken to a stall, 
 to abide the decision of the umpires of the quintain 
 match." 
 
 On this a magnificent bay horse, the very one taken 
 from Ottorino, was brought out. 
 
 " This'll do capitally," said the jester. " I have not 
 another word to say," and imitating with fantastic 
 grimaces the movements of a knight drawing down his 
 visor, he pulled the network over his face and ordered 
 the signal to be given. 
 
 A trumpet then sounded, which was heard all over the 
 castle, and reached the ears of a person about whom no 
 one was thinking just then, except the jester, who felt 
 his heart beat at the sound. His adversary then gave 
 his horse his head, and putting spurs to his side, galloped 
 over the intervening space, struck the mark in the 
 centre, and amid the shouts of " Bravo ! bravo ! " he 
 returned to the starting-post, set spurs to his horse
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 327 
 
 again, and drove his lance straight into the visor of the 
 Saracen's head, a feat that was greeted with a fresh 
 storm of applause. 
 
 Now came Tremacoldo's turn, but where was he ? A 
 page was holding the horse destined for him, but he was 
 not there. 
 
 " Tremacoldo ! Tremacoldo ! " was the cry. " What 
 on earth has become of him ? " " He must be playing 
 some of his tricks." " I was sure," said another, " that 
 this challenge was all a sham. But at any rate his horse 
 is here." " Tremacoldo ! Tremacoldo ! " they called 
 out. 
 
 At last he appeared, coming bounding down the 
 steps. To spring on his horse, to grasp his lance, to 
 charge the quintain, strike it, to smash the pole on 
 which it was fixed and overturn the whole erection, was 
 the work of a minute. The jester, or rather (to make 
 no further mystery to our readers, who will have al- 
 ready guessed the secret) Lupo, dressed exactly like 
 him, and masked by the fine network drawn over his 
 face, having made that splendid stroke, while the shouts 
 of applause yet rent the skies, turned his horse rapidly 
 round, crossed the courtyard, and passing through the 
 barbican and over the drawbridge, galloped off like the 
 wind. 
 
 The crowd rushed frantically out after him and saw 
 him take the high road and ride straight away. 
 
 " Tremacoldo ! Tremacoldo ! the horse is yours ! you 
 are the vrinner ! " they shouted. But he kept galloping 
 away as if the devil was at his heels. Innumerable were 
 the conjectures as to this behaviour. 
 
 " Perhaps he thinks he has lost, and is running away 
 without paying." " Oh, I dare say. Do you suppose 
 the jester does not know as well as we do, that to upset 
 the quintaia is the best stroke of all." " Well, then, 
 what does it all mean ? " " It's some dodge of his to 
 turn into ridicule that unlicked cub, who tried to 
 frighten him with his ugly face. He wants to make 
 fun of him." 
 
 "Do you mean to say he is coming back ? "
 
 328 MAKCO TISCONTI. 
 
 " Why not ? do you suppose he intends to leave his 
 horse here ? a pretty idea ! as if he wouldn't return." 
 
 While the false Tremacoldo was making the best of 
 his way ofi, the real one was hidden in the castle. How 
 on eai'th was he to get out, without the trick being dis- 
 covered ? Trust him for that, for he has thought it all 
 out, and already provided for everything. 
 
 Besides the principal gate, there was in the fortress a 
 postern, which opened into the second courtyard where 
 the stables were, and which the jester had made the scene 
 for his projects of escape. He had scarcely finished 
 giving the challenge, when he took the keeper of this 
 gate aside, and telling him that the wager, as seemed 
 probable, was an entire joke, persuaded him to keep it 
 open for him, and to have his horse in readiness, giving 
 him to understand that he meant to go out secretly by 
 that exit, and to come back unexpectedly through the 
 great gate for a bit of fun ; he would soon see what a 
 joke it would be, fit to make them all burst with 
 laughter. 
 
 His companion being a cheery, simple sort of a fellow, 
 agreed to everything he required ; the doors were thrown 
 open, the horse was found all ready, he himself gave the 
 buffoon a leg up into the saddle ; shut the door very 
 gently as soon as he saw him go out, and then ran back 
 into the principal courtyard to see him return. There 
 was not a soul to be seen there, for they were all outside 
 on the glacis looking after Lupo, who, dressed like Tre- 
 macoldo, and appearing exactly like him, was going hke 
 the wind ; and our simpleton himself just came up in 
 time to see his back a long way off. • 
 
 " What is the meaning of all this ? " he said to him- 
 self ; "I only let him out a minute ago, and there he is 
 out there. Why, he must have got a demon behind 
 him ! What is it all about ? " 
 
 So away went Lupo along the high road at full speed, 
 while Tremacoldo was doing the same thi'ough the woods 
 below, and at nightfall they met at Milan, at the house 
 of Count del Balzo. 
 
 You may imagine how crestfallen those scamps at
 
 MAECO VISCONTI. 329 
 
 the castle were, when they perceived that the minstrel 
 did not return, and besides finding the prison empty, saw 
 that they had been cheated out of the best horse in their 
 stable, and knew for their comfort, that the report of the 
 affair would bring down the wrath of their master on 
 their heads.
 
 330 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THIS favonrite Lupo of ours had had so many hair- 
 breadth escapes in his life — his parents had so often 
 been in anxiety for his sake — they had so often felt the 
 comfort of seeing him emerge from mortal peril safe and 
 sound, that, to say the truth, it would seem as if they 
 ought to have become hardened by this time. But this 
 was not the case, and the reader can hardly imagine how 
 hearty was the affectionate welcome he met with on this 
 occasion. 
 
 Their joy was, however, dashed by the thought of poor 
 Lauretta, of whom he could tell his parents nothing, nor 
 they him. 
 
 Ermelinda and the Count made the falconer's son re- 
 peat the minutest particulars of the strange adventures 
 in which he had been involved, though, evidently, against 
 his will ; but the youth could give them but small satis- 
 faction — since the moment when he had left Beatrice at 
 Grallarate, to go to Seprio in search of Ottorino, he knew 
 nothing of the vanished party. He himself was captured 
 treacherously by some armed men, before reaching the 
 castle, his eyes bandaged, and after being dragged hither 
 and thither in various directions, he was at last thrown 
 into the prison, from which he had just been rescued by 
 Tremacoldo. 
 
 Everything connected with the affair was mysterious ; 
 the only clue to it was from the incident of Marco's 
 letter, on receiving which Ottorino had hastened to 
 Castel Seprio. 
 
 It is true that the signature might have been forged 
 by those who had contrived the plot against the Ibridai 
 pair. Lupo was of this opinion, and the Count, who, at 
 the first mention of Marco's name had been much per-
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 831 
 
 turbed, welcomed this exjjlanation with avidity, and the 
 determination of a person desirous to catch at any re- 
 assuring suggestion. But Ermehnda, who knew of the 
 love of Visconti for her daughter, felt certain that she 
 had in truth been carried off by him. She would not, 
 however, reveal this to her husband, for fear of being 
 prevented by his cowardly fears from pursuing a plan 
 she had proposed to herself, and which seemed to have 
 some promise of success. 
 
 She therefore summoned Lupo privately to her own 
 apartments, and thei-e said to him — 
 
 " Pray attend to me ; I have a very serious and im- 
 portant charge to lay upon you. Will you undertake it 
 for the sake of your former master and mistress? There 
 is no one whom I can trust as much as I do you." 
 
 " Oh, my gracious lady ! " replied Lupo, much affected, 
 and also a little mortified by the hesitation with which 
 the Countess spoke ; " Am I not your own Lupo, your 
 servant ? the first bread I ever ate, did I not eat it in 
 your house ? my father, my mother, my poor sister, have 
 they not always slept under your roof ? have they not 
 all been clothed, fed, protected by you ? " 
 
 " Enough, don't recall it now " 
 
 " Yes, I must indeed recall it ; for you must not be- 
 lieve that I, wild as I am, have forgotten it all, even for 
 a moment ; and then, without going any further, was 
 not my life granted by Marco at the request of your 
 noble husband, in compliance with your entreaties and 
 those of that angel — of your " 
 
 But here he stopped, perceiving the emotion the name 
 he was about to pronounce was raising in the soul of the 
 unhappy mother, who, drying her eyes, answered — 
 
 " I know that you are a good fellow ; I know it well." 
 
 " Grood, do you say ? I should be a wretched, villain- 
 ous brute if I was otherwise. Now then, my lady, be so 
 good as to tell me how you have thought of employing 
 me ; so that I maybe as useful to you as I am faithful." 
 
 " I want to send you to Lucca, to bear to Marco a letter 
 from me," said Ermelinda. 
 
 " And is that all ? " replied Lupo. " To present my-
 
 332 MARCO VISCONTI, 
 
 self before Marco ! Yon could not have given me a 
 commission more acceptable to me." 
 
 " Listen, Lupo ; I know that if he is not utterly 
 changed from what he once was — if his former nature 
 has not entirely disappeared, you do not run any risk." 
 
 " Forgive me, my gracious mistress, but this is a kind 
 of thing that cannot be imagined for a moment. The 
 idea that I could ever suspect Marco ! a man who is the 
 prince of men ! Do you not know that, even if instead of 
 being the poor devil I am, I was a great baron, a prince, 
 or even a king, and at the same time his greatest enemy, 
 I would put my head in his lap, and sleep as quietly and 
 safely as if I had laid it on my own pillow ? And then, 
 if you will believe me, and though you may think it ex- 
 travagant, the love and devotion I feel for that man is 
 so great, that if he wished to kill me it would not appear 
 hard to me, and I should think it a good way of losing 
 my life, so much so, that, next to sacrificing it for the 
 Faith, I could not desire a better end." 
 
 " Then you will go there ? " 
 
 " With all my heart ! and I assure you I am longing 
 to be off." 
 
 " What makes me most anxious," said Ermelinda, 
 " is the fear that those who interrupted your journey 
 before, may again play you an ill turn on the road." 
 
 " And for that reason I will set off directly, and 
 secretly," said Lupo ; " so that they may not have time 
 to make preparations ; there's a story I have heard about 
 the fox who once left his tail in the trap, and after that 
 took pretty good care not to let himself be caught a 
 second time." 
 
 " Well, then, here is the letter," said the Countess. 
 " I feel, also, that the more haste in these cases the 
 better." 
 
 " I will run down," returned Lupo, " and eat a few 
 mouthfuls in haste, kiss my father and mother, and then 
 set off at once." 
 
 " Farewell, my good Lupo," said the Countess ; " the 
 Lord be with you." But, summoning him suddenly 
 back : " And if, while you are on the road, the jester
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 333 
 
 discovers anything, I will send a conrier off to tell you. 
 You know that Tremacoldo has promised me to search 
 everywhere and to make every effort to put himself on 
 their track." 
 
 " I know — well, we will keep to this agreement. And 
 I should like to tell you one thing before leaving you." 
 
 " Certainly — tell me." 
 
 " I want to say that if ever you need me — but it is 
 hardly necessary, for I am already bound to you by too 
 close ties ; and, besides, you are so good and kind to all 
 — but there, I have nothing else to say." And, with 
 these words, he went off on his errand. 
 
 As he came out of the gates to begin his journey, 
 Lupo suddenly came upon Lodrisio, who was passing by 
 on horseback, accompanied by two squires. He was ac- 
 quainted with this noble, and knew that, although there 
 was an old grudge between him and Ottorino, neither of 
 them had ever passed the limits of those laws of civility 
 which, as everybody knows, survive friendship ; and so, 
 taking off his cap, he bowed to his master's relation and 
 went on his way, without remarking the sudden start of 
 surprise that the knight could not control on catching 
 sight of him, and far from suspecting that the same ob- 
 ject, though with a most different motive, occupied his 
 mind and that of the hateful individual he had just come 
 across ; and so he pursued his journey in the contrary 
 direction. 
 
 We will now leave Lupo, to follow Lodrisio, who, 
 having received the day before a letter from Pelagrua, 
 was on his way to the castle of Rosate, to confer on their 
 common concerns. 
 
 This knight, after he had recovered from his first 
 astonishment at the sight of his prisoner, whom he had 
 fancied in a very different place from Milan, and in a 
 very different state from that of a traveller, said a few 
 words in the ear of one of his squires, who made an 
 affirmative sign, and remained behind. 
 
 '• What demon can have brought that fellow here ? " 
 was the inward thought of the rider, as he hurried on to 
 Rosate. " Will nothing succeed with me ? there must
 
 334 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 be some unlucky star, some evil influence over me, at 
 this period ! And where can the rascal be going in 
 travelling-garb ? most likely to his hills. By-the-by, 
 his countrymen there have not had their debts paid, but 
 their day of reckoning will come, and they shall pay me, 
 once for all." 
 
 The squire in attendance on Lodrisio, seeing his master 
 so out of temper, did not dare to say a word, and fol- 
 lowed him in silence, casting an occasional stealthy 
 glance at him, like a beaten dog with his tail between 
 his legs. The knight went pricking along, pondering 
 over all his various anxieties, about Marco, Beatrice, 
 Ottorino — how to remedy this, how to provide for that, 
 so that he arrived at Rosate, without once opening his lips. 
 
 Here he retired into a private chamber with Pelagrua, 
 and asked at once if the last courier had arrived from 
 Lucca. 
 
 "He is come, and here are Marco's papers," replied 
 the seneschal, giving him a packet of letters. He opened 
 them, and, sitting down, read them in silence for some 
 time, while the other remained standing up, cap in hand. 
 When he had finished, Lodrisio shook his head, and 
 said, shrugging his shoulders, " It is as usual ; the Ger- 
 mans are going on badly, and the Lucchese worse. The 
 former are like a bottomless cask, which the river Po 
 could never fill, when at its highest ; the latter are so 
 stingy, that they would not give a farthing to save theii' 
 skin from the Turks, or from the devil himself : the one 
 set are always howling for money, and the others as 
 constantly screech out a refusal ; and Marco has to act 
 as go-between, and keep the peace between the two. To- 
 day he has to put a soldier in irons, and to-morrow to 
 hang a citizen, so he has to keep up a perpetual see-saw ; 
 the only result being that he offends both parties. In 
 short, he is so disgusted and indignant with it all, that 
 he is nearly decided on the course that he would not hear 
 of before, viz., to sell his suzerainty to the Florentines, 
 and wash his hands of the whole concern." 
 
 " Should this come to pass," said Pelagrua, " he will 
 be glad to attend to his affairs here again."
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 335 
 
 " Certainly ; and that thread, by whicli we reckoned 
 on holding him, will be but one among many, I can 
 see." 
 
 " One among many," replied the seneschal, biting his 
 nails. " I shall be glad if we get off as well as that. I 
 am sadly afraid lest this should spoil our cards so much, 
 that we may not get a game out of them at all." 
 
 " Where do you get those foolish fears from ? " 
 
 "I'll soon tell you. I dropped a hint to Marco in the 
 most distant way, to prepare him a little for the present 
 state of affairs, as one may say." 
 
 " And how did he receive it ? " 
 
 " Far from receiving it favourably, he seemed as if he 
 were going to eat my poor messenger up aHve, and he 
 wrote to me that I must not meddle any more between 
 Beatrice and Ottorino. Suppose his affairs have cured 
 his love ? " 
 
 " All the better ! If this madness leaves him, he will 
 give himself up more to serious undertakings — to his own 
 interests ; which, in the end, are ours." 
 
 " I agree — but in the meantime what am I to do with 
 this fair lady ? " 
 
 " What we settled before — to keep her, by fair or 
 foul means, to wait for Marco's pleasure. Don't yon 
 believe that when he returns and finds her here, all in 
 the bloom of her beauty, he will be grateful to you ; even 
 supposing his first mania for her to have somewhat 
 subsided ? " 
 
 " May Heaven grant it ! You don't know what her 
 whims and fancies are ! Fancy ! she has been here 
 twenty days, and she actually still believes she is at 
 Castelletto. I have never dared to " 
 
 " Much ado about nothing ! What a fool you are ! " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Why, when you see you can do nothing by gentle 
 means, you should change your tactics ; you don't know 
 anything about women." 
 
 " But, I tell you, a breath would blow this one out." 
 
 " Let her do what she will, but don't mince matters 
 any more with her."
 
 336 MARCO TISCONTI. 
 
 "It is very easy for you to talk like this, but you 
 should have been here the fourth day she was in the 
 Castle ; she was seized with a desperate fever, and I was 
 afraid that it would be the end of her, and that any hour 
 might be her last. If she really had died, it would have 
 been a pretty kettle of fish ! And you must remember 
 the other girl is with her." 
 
 " The waiting-maid you mean ? a great matter indeed ! 
 Well, how at last did you get her round ? " 
 
 " I got her round by means of a letter from her lover, 
 which I let her have." 
 
 "A letter from Ottorino! " cried Lodrisio, with an 
 expression half agitated and half incredulous. 
 
 " From Ottorino — but don't be angry, for I stand for 
 Ottorino." 
 
 " You wrote the letter ? " 
 
 " I wrote it and imitated his hand." 
 
 " And what did you say ? " 
 
 ' First of all, I was obliged to explain my delay in 
 coming to see her, was I not ? So I treated her to some 
 fair words — how Marco had received me most affection- 
 ately, that he is desirous of sending me into Tuscany, 
 and does not leave me to myself for a moment, day or 
 night. That I have not dared as yet to inform him of 
 our marriage, finding that his mind was still the same 
 on that subject, but that when I had been able to be of 
 great service to him, I hoped to induce him to hear rea- 
 son — in short, a thousand fibs of this sort, filled up with 
 the usual sugar-plums of lovers, tender oaths, and hopes, 
 to soothe the sweet martyr of love." 
 
 Lodrisio burst out into a coarse laugh, and then 
 added : 
 
 " And did she take it all in, suspecting nothing ? " 
 
 " I firmly beheve," answered the seneschal, " that if 
 the letter had fallen into Ottorino's own hands, I declare 
 I would wager my life that he would have believed he 
 had wTitten it himself." 
 
 " Well— then ? " 
 
 " Then she answers, and Ottorino replies to her ; she 
 writes a second time, and Ottorino likewise, and so on,
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 337 
 
 everything goes as smoathly as possible — and if you 
 could only see the sweet, tender things she writes me ! 
 the devotion with which she opens my letters, devours 
 them with her eyes, and weeps over them ! and then how 
 tenderly she folds them with her white hands, and puts 
 them in her bosom, and then takes them out to read 
 them again, and kiss them ! I enjoy the sight through 
 a chink in the wall, and I swear to you, the game begins 
 quite to amuse me." 
 
 " You dried-up old mummy! Tou old Pharisee ! " 
 said Lodrisio, giving him a cuff on his face, in joke ; 
 " now with these childish tricks, you have been spending 
 your time, so that twenty days have been wasted." 
 
 " But I have not wasted them at all. I have begun 
 already to give things a turn — but one must work very 
 cautiously, for the least thing makes her nervous, and 
 she is so delicate, that she would be swooning directly." 
 
 " Well, tell me quickly, how far you have gone as 
 yet?" 
 
 " I have begun to play off a little jealousy, arising 
 from Marco's continually speaking of her, and praising 
 her up to the skies." 
 
 " And what does she say to that ? " 
 
 " She swears and protests that she is devoted to me, 
 and me alone, as you may imagine ; but still you have 
 but to throw a seed into a female heart, and it always 
 takes root and bears fruit. After all, girls and women, 
 rich and poor, they are all made of the same clay." 
 
 " Well, you have not done badly on the whole, only you 
 are too long about it. We shall have only got half way 
 by the end of the year, and we have no time to lose, I 
 can tell you ; for Marco may arrive within the next two 
 months, if not earlier — and now, on what terms are you 
 with this wliimsical girl ? " 
 
 " Now, she is expecting m.e in a couple of days. I have 
 taken this Hne, in order to recover her from the distress 
 she was thrown into at being disappointed of her mother's 
 promised visit. When she first got this news, she ap- 
 peared quite comforted, but since yesterday, for some 
 reason or other, she is more downhearted than she was 
 
 z
 
 338 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 at first. She says nothing, but only weeps, and will not 
 touch food. I only hope she will hold out, for even if I 
 am able to supply her with another letter to-morrow, the 
 deceit cannot last much longer, she must begin to sus- 
 pect something soon, and then I shall be at my wit's end 
 how to keep her quiet." 
 
 " The chief thing," said Lodrisio, " is to bring the 
 thing to a head as soon as possible, for I have another 
 bit of news for you — Lupo has escaped." 
 
 " Escaped ! " exclaimed Pelagrua, in alarm, raisimg 
 his eyebrows. 
 
 " Yes, escaped, and I saw him with my own eyes, on 
 my way here ; but I have placed him in good hands ; 
 
 before sunset but never mind, when I have written 
 
 to Lucca, we will talk it over again, and see what we had 
 better do." 
 
 After writing as proposed, and arranging his plans, the 
 seneschal of Rosate, towards evening, conducted Lodrisio 
 by winding passages and secret corridors into a dark 
 room, from whence, looking through some chinks, you 
 could see all over the room, where Beatrice was alone 
 with her faithful maid. 
 
 Ottorino's forsaken wife was seated on a sumptuous 
 couch, in a languid attitude, resting her pale face on her 
 hand. A light garment, as white as snow, drooped from 
 her shoulders, and wrapped her in its ample folds. Her 
 long fair hair, parted in the middle, followed the outline 
 of her face, which stood out deadly white against the 
 gold, not relieved by the slightest touch of coloni*, except 
 the lips, which were of a faint red. Her great blue eyes 
 were the most striking feature in her face, for with the 
 softness of angelic innocence, they yet expressed the fire 
 of a generous soul. While they shone with quiet maidenly 
 pride, they had also a tender and liquid glance, appealing, 
 as it were, for sympathy and alfection, and their mute, 
 supplicating expression, was increased by the piteous 
 circumstances in which she now found herself. 
 
 Lauretta, seated at a table placed between her and her 
 mistress, was working at some embroidery, from which 
 she had just raised her head.
 
 MARCO TISCOXTI. 339 
 
 Beatrice, with her cheek resting on her hand, had her 
 face turned towards the maiden, as if watching the work 
 — but she did not really see it, for her whole soul at that 
 moment was overshadowed by a secret terror. 
 
 At last she rose to her feet and walked wearily to the 
 open window. She leant on the sill and gazed in silence 
 on the scene before her. The setting sun, slowly sink- 
 ing behind the crest of a distant wood, shed its level 
 rays on the wide plain, only broken by the sparse, un- 
 refreshing shadows cast by a solitary tree, appearing at 
 rare intervals on that vast expanse of desert. The per- 
 petual, melancholy croaking of frogs filled the oppressive, 
 motionless air, while from the lakes and surrounding- 
 marshes there rose a white mist, which, veiling slightly 
 the nearer objects of the landscape, gradually enveloped 
 the more distant ones till the horizon was completely lost 
 to sight. The feeble rays of the sun, which had at first 
 with difficulty pierced this close and clammy veil, be- 
 came gradually fainter and fainter, till, as the mists 
 gathered strength and the sun finally set, all light was 
 extinguished, as when the eyes are closed in their last 
 sleep. 
 
 A sunset so different in all its characteristics from 
 those glorious departing rays which she had so often 
 watched disappear behind her own dear native moun- 
 tains, recalled, with a bitter pang, those loved scenes to 
 the unhappy exile. She rose from the window, seated 
 herself again by the little table, where a lamp was burn- 
 ing, placed there an instant before by the careful hand 
 of Lauretta, and sinking into a chair, she exclaimed, in 
 the agony of her heart, " Oh, my God, my suffering is 
 greater than I can bear ! " 
 
 There was a moment's silence, then the faithful atten- 
 dant went to the balcony to close the outer shutters, 
 when the faint sound of a lute reached her ear. Lauretta 
 paused, with her hand on the shutter ; her mistress 
 placed her finger on her lips, and listened eagerly. That 
 plaintive tune was surely familiar to her. She rose up 
 with i-estored strength, returned swiftly to the window, 
 and leant out again to catch every sound ; then she said,
 
 340 MARCO Tiscoxxr. 
 
 in an undertone to Lauretta, " It is tlie prelude to the 
 Rondinella; but liark ! the song is going to begin." 
 And in truth the voice, though somewhat distant, fell 
 distinctly on her ear, accompanied by the feeble and 
 melodious sound of the instrument. 
 
 Swallow, ever wand'ring swallow, 
 
 Alighting near my cell. 
 Where, day by day, thy plaintive lay 
 
 Dost, soft recording, tell. 
 What would'st thou in thy song declare, 
 Wand'ring Pilgrim of the air ? 
 
 In drear oblivion, sad, alone. 
 
 Left by thy cruel mate. 
 Do thy tears flow, to mourn my woe, 
 
 Or for thy widowed state ? 
 No matter, sing the grief we shai'e, 
 Wand'ring Pilgrim of the air. 
 
 Yet, less than mine, thy misery, 
 
 Bird with untiring wings. 
 Whose pinions sweep, o'er lake and steep, 
 
 Tho' sad thy carol rings, 
 Calling thy mate, with ceaseless care, 
 Wand'ring Pilgrim of the air. 
 
 Oh I if like thee ! . . . , But here, in prison 
 
 Confined by hapless fate. 
 Where light of day, nor sun's sweet ray 
 
 Can never penetrate. 
 Whence, scarce ascends my plaintive pi-ayer 
 To thee, sweet Pilgrim of the air. 
 
 With swift step cometli chill September, 
 
 When thou away will flee 
 To foreign lands, and far-off strands, 
 
 ■ Where earth, and sky, and sea 
 Will greet thee with their welcome fair, 
 Wand'ring Pilgrim of the air. 
 
 And each day, than the last, still sadder. 
 
 Which bids me wake to tears, 
 ISIid storms that blow, and winter snow. 
 
 Thy song will fill mine ears; 
 Mourning o'er me with tender care, 
 Wand'ring Pilgrim of the air.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 341 
 
 When the spring-tide hires thee homewards, 
 
 A cross will mark this spot. 
 Stay then thy flight, and there alight, 
 
 Sweet bird, forget it not ; 
 And let thy song calm peace declare, 
 Wand'rlng Pilgrim of the air.
 
 342 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 " IPHAT must be Tremacoldo," cried Beatrice, quite 
 
 J- revived directly the song had ceased; "I recognize 
 his Toice. Oh, perhaps he has come to give me some 
 news. If I could only see him ! If I could see a face I 
 knew, that would give me confidence and clear up all 
 my doubts." 
 
 " But what doubts have you ? For mercy's sake, why 
 are you so agitated ? Your husband will be here in 
 a couple of days ; he has pronaised you this. Why 
 then " 
 
 " Hush ! " interrupted the mistress, putting her finger 
 on her lips. 
 
 They remained for some time longer in silence, hoping 
 for the song to recommence ; but they heard nothing 
 more except the ill-omened howling of dogs belonging 
 to the different hovels scattered over the plains. 
 
 Beatrice, having at last lost all hope, returned to her 
 seat by the table, and looking at the damsel who was 
 closing the window, she said, continuing her interrupted 
 speech : 
 
 " Do you ask, why I am so suspicious ? and why I am 
 so agitated ? " 
 
 And she uttered these words in the almost agonized 
 tone of one who has a tremendous secret to reveal ; but 
 then she turned her eyes on her companion in misfortune, 
 who, at that moment, came to sit down by her, and 
 sighing deeply, said no more. 
 
 "What is it?" said Lauretta, anxiously. "Do you 
 know anything fresh ? Is there some mystery ? Tell 
 me, pray tell me ! " 
 
 "No, no, be quiet; it is nothing." 
 
 " How can I be quiet ? Since yesterday I have noticed 
 you have had something on your mind that you wished 
 to hide from me. Do tell me ! "
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 343 
 
 " Leave me alone," repeated the young lady. 
 
 But the damsel, taking her hand affectionately, and 
 pressing it between hers, said, in a voice full of emotion : 
 
 " Dear Beatrice, my sweet mistress, have you not pro- 
 mised me that you would share all the good and evÓ in 
 your life with me ? " 
 
 " Oh, my good Lauretta ! " replied Beatrice, trying to 
 restrain her tears, " it is a great addition to my grief to 
 think of you, who, for my sake, have left your loving 
 parents and your peaceful home for an uncertain fate. 
 But God is merciful, he wdll save you. Believe me, that 
 I pray to him for you often in the midst of my mortal 
 anguish." 
 
 " Alas ! " said the maiden, still more dismayed, " your 
 words point to some misfortune. Don't let me be kept 
 in ignorance ; for God's sake relieve my suspense." 
 
 Beatrice in reply rose up, and opened a casket on her 
 table. 
 
 " Do you see," she said, " the papers contained in 
 this?" 
 
 " Yes ; they are the letters which your husband writes 
 to you every day." 
 
 " So I believed, and that was the last thread on which 
 my life hung ; now that thread is broken — the letters 
 did not come from Ottorino." 
 
 " May the Lord have mercy on us ! " cried Lauretta, 
 becoming as pale as death. " But who could — how did 
 you find it out ? " 
 
 " Yesterday you brought me this white rose which I 
 am wearing in my bosom, did you not ? " 
 
 " Yes ; it was given me by the old woman who brings 
 our food." 
 
 " And you told me the seneschal's wife sent it to me ? " 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " Now do you know who she is ? " 
 
 " I know she is Pelagrua's wife, the woman whom 
 your mother received into the castle the day when she 
 came there with her child." 
 
 " Well, she remembers that kindness in these days of 
 my misery, and cannot bear to see me any longer the
 
 344 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 sport of these infernal macMnations. Between these 
 rose leaves I found a letter hidden which warns me of 
 treachery. Imagine my horror when I made this dis- 
 covery ! Who can tell what has become of Ottorino ? 
 Who can assure me that he is still alive ; for I cannot 
 believe that he has forsaken me. Where are my 
 parents ? And where are we ourselves ? Oh, my God ! 
 in whose hands can we be ? If this really is Ottorino's 
 castle, and not rather — for there is nothing cruel and 
 terrible which I do not imagine." 
 
 " Oh, mercy ! mercy ! on us poor creatures ! " ex- 
 claimed Lauretta. 
 
 " Now, I will tell you," continued her mistress, " the 
 principal cause of my terror. You must know that the 
 night when I went with my father and aunt to the 
 banquet at Marco Visconti's palace " 
 
 But at this moment her story was interrupted by a 
 noise at the door which opened on the gallery. Some 
 one had knocked, and the waiting-maid, trembling all 
 over, was getting up to answer it, when Beatrice drew 
 her back, and said quietly to her : 
 
 " Don't move from here ; I will not have you open to 
 any one." 
 
 " Lauretta ! Lauretta ! " the well-known voice of 
 Pelagrua called from outside, " there is a knight here 
 with news of Ottorino, and he wishes to speak at once 
 with your mistress." 
 
 " Say to him," said she, under her breath, " that at 
 this late hour I can see no one, but that I will receive 
 him to-morrow." 
 
 " To-morrow ! Let him come to-morrow. She can- 
 not see him now." 
 
 Thus the waiting-maid spoke through the door in an 
 uncertain voice, shaking all over, as if seized with an 
 ague fit. 
 
 " He must speak to her this moment," cried Pelagrua ; 
 " he has some good news to give her. Now, open the 
 door ; it will be better for her. Now, are you going to 
 open ? yes or no ? Silly girl ! You had better take care 
 what you are about ! "
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 345 
 
 And ali this time he went on belabouring the door 
 ■with his hands and feet, but in vain ; for the two 
 prisoners, clasped in each other's arms, and trembling 
 like two frightened doves, never answered a word ; and 
 the door could not be undone from without, as it was 
 fastened within with a large bolt. 
 
 After a time the noise ceased, as also did Pelagrua's 
 voice, and silence again reigned. The two terrified 
 women were just beginning to breathe again, when they 
 felt behind a draught, which blowing suddenly on the 
 slight flume of the lamp, nearly extinguished it. They 
 both quickly turned in that direction, and through an 
 opening in the wall, which had been concealed by the 
 hangings, they saw two men advance into the room. 
 
 Lauretta, covering her eyes with her hands, uttered a 
 sharp scream, and sank on the couch ; but Beatrice, 
 rising with dignity to her feet, leant one hand on tl;e 
 table, and turning to Pelagrua, who, as well as Lodrisio, 
 she recognised, she said, with a calm and stately manner : 
 
 " Seneschal, you have, it seems to me, mistaken this 
 room. It belongs to me, whom you are accustomed to 
 call your master's wife ! 
 
 The anger the girl felt at this uncourteous and abo- 
 minable behaviour had overcome her alarm. She felt her 
 spirit and her strength all at once return. Her cheeks 
 regained their colour ; her eyes shone with the vivid 
 light which had so long left them ; and a degree of 
 security and fortitude was expressed in her whole 
 person. 
 
 The two rogues were struck with surprise, and even 
 with a momentary, but irresistible feeling of reverence. 
 The diabolical eyes of Pelagrua fell beneath the maiden's 
 glance, and even Lodrisio seemed at first quite discon- 
 certed ; his cold and cruel smile was discomposed, the 
 jesting and familiar words died on his lips, with which 
 he was about to insult his victim, and bowing his head 
 in proof of a humility at any rate sincere for a time, he 
 stammered out : 
 
 " Forgive me, lady. I did not think " and was 
 
 about to retrace his steps ; but then recovering himself,
 
 34G MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 added, " I hoped as I came to speak to you of Ottorino, 
 my news would have been a passport to your presence." 
 
 Beatrice, whose shadowy fears had taken a more sohd 
 form at the sight of her husband's implacable enemy, 
 replied to him without being able to conceal a sudden 
 shudder which thrilled her whole frame : 
 
 " Sir knight, do not insult the misery of an innocent 
 creature. I tremble at the idea of being in your power, 
 as he is perhaps, also, of whom you have just spoken, 
 and whose name on your lips only seems to me as a 
 snare. If this be so, I have no other defence but tears and 
 indignant words. I, a weak woman, entrapped into 
 this unknown abode, far from all who would protect 
 me, with no other witness of my persecution but this 
 poor girl." Here she pointed to her damsel, who raised 
 her eyes a little, cheered by these words, hoping that 
 they would touch their tormentors' hearts. " I am in 
 your hands," continued Beatrice, in a tone that seemed 
 almost inspired, " I am like a reed that you can break 
 at your pleasure ; but there is a God above us, to whom 
 the most hidden corner of the earth is visible, and before 
 whom all strength is powerless ; a God who sees the 
 tears of the afflicted, and wall demand an account from 
 those who cause them to flow." 
 
 Lodrisio, intensely irritated at finding himself un- 
 masked, and braved in this way by a child, and ashamed 
 of Pelagrua's presence and of his own first uncontrol- 
 lable impulse of diffidence and respect, had now resumed 
 his former character, and that air of bold, sneering fami- 
 liarity, which he had dropped for a time. 
 
 " Listen to me, my young lady," he said ; " do you 
 think these arrogant airs suit a pretty maiden like your- 
 self ? They don't become you at all, and you had better 
 lay them aside ; " and so saying, he advanced towards 
 her. 
 
 " Do not come near me ! " cried the girl, in great 
 alarm, and then running to the window, she flung it 
 open with all her force. " Keep away from me ! " 
 
 " Be quiet, you mad child, I am not going to eat you. 
 Look at me — -I won't move ; and I will step back again
 
 MARCO YISCO>'TI. 347 
 
 if you please. Are you satisfied now ? — what would 
 you have ! I only wanted to speak to you for your 
 good." 
 
 " For my good ? " said the maiden, " then go away at 
 once ; that is all the good you can do me." 
 " Is there nothing else I can do for you ? " 
 
 " Ah, yes ! you can, indeed ; you can take me out of 
 this anguish, restore me to my parents, and let me die 
 in peace in the arms of my poor mother. Oh, do this, 
 if you have any mercy in you ; do it for the sake of all 
 that is dear to you in this world ; do it for the love of 
 God." 
 
 Lauretta, frightened to death, held her mistress by 
 her dress, fearing that, in her despair, she might throw 
 herself from the balcony, on the edge of which she was 
 standing ; and Pelagrua never ceased making deprecat- 
 ing signs to quiet and reassure her. 
 
 As soon as Beatrice had finished speaking, Lodrisio 
 continued, in cruel, pitiless tones : 
 
 " Do you think I mean to do you any harm, child ? 
 You are making yourself of too much importance ; for I 
 assure you I am not thinking about you at all, so don't 
 be afraid that I am going to injure you ; stand up, and 
 look me in the face, for I am not a monster, and listen 
 to what I have to say to you. I see that you already 
 know more about things in general than I thought ; I 
 am glad of it, for we shall come to an agreement more 
 rapidly. You must know, then, that Ottorino, who was 
 to become your husband — " 
 
 "Is he still aHve ? " exclaimed the girl, in breathless 
 anxiety. 
 
 " Let me finish quietly — alive or not, you will have 
 nothing to do with him in future." 
 
 Beatrice trembled all over, so that the knight added 
 quickly : 
 
 " Yes, he is alive ; make yourself easy, for he is alive." 
 
 " And I can assure you also," broke in Pelagrua, 
 " that he is safe and sound, and will soon depart for his 
 projected journey to the Holy Land." 
 
 "Do you mean without me?" exclaimed Beatrice.
 
 S-éS MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 " No, that cannot be true ! How cruel you are to tor- 
 ment me in this way ! What have I done to you ? 
 What harm have I ever done you ? " And, overcome 
 with anguish, she bent her head down, and burst into 
 an agony of tears, which, however, she soon cut short, 
 raising her head in fear, lest someone should approach 
 her. The tears she had already shed continued to flow 
 silently, in two streams, down her cheeks into her sor- 
 rowful bosom ; but her face had already assumed that 
 dignified tranquillity which makes grief sublime. 
 
 In the meantime Pelagrua, glancing at his companion, 
 pursed up his lips, and shrugged his shoulders, as if to 
 say : " What do you think of your fine plans ? You 
 would act according to your own ideas ; see what you 
 have done." But the wicked knight only answered him 
 with a shake of his head, and an impatient gesture, 
 which might be translated into common speech in this 
 way: " Get away, you fool, leave me alone ; " or some- 
 thing of the sort. After which, he turned again to the 
 girl, and said : 
 
 " You are weeping, poor child. I really pity you ; 
 you have cared for him for a long time, and now must 
 tear him from your heart ; but what can you do ? You 
 must make a virtue of necessity. Love passes ; you 
 will see, very soon, believe me, it will all be gone. And 
 then, to speak clearly to you, if you really are fond of 
 him, you would wish, above everything, to save his 
 life ? Now, do you know that his life and death are in 
 your hands? " 
 
 " Oh, what do you say ? " exclaimed Beatrice, struck 
 with a new terror ; " and can I put faith in your words ? 
 Is there not some deceit hidden in them ? Have pity on 
 me — on a poor, forsaken, tormented creature ! Tell me 
 the truth ; look at me " (and as she spoke she clasped 
 her hands across her chest). " I pray to you with the 
 same agony with which, in the last moments of your 
 life, you yourself will implore the supreme Judge to 
 give you His pardon ; grant this my prayer as you will 
 wish Him to grant yours at that tremendous moment ; 
 tell me, by the eternal safety of your soul, or by its
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 349 
 
 eternal damnation, tell me if this danger of Ottorino is 
 real, and what I can do to save him." 
 
 The villain, who, like even the worst men of his age, 
 believed in God and in a future life after his own fashion, 
 could not help feeling a little shaken by these words, 
 spoken in tones that seemed almost inspired. After a 
 few minutes which he spent in summoning up his wonted 
 audacity, he recovered himself and, dropping the fami- 
 liarity of his tone, he answered with perceptible agitation : 
 
 " The danger is real — yes, I can guarantee that on my 
 own soul — and it is true that you can save him." 
 
 " And where is he ? And what is the peril ? And 
 what can T do for him ? " 
 
 " Oh, you want to know too much at once. There are 
 things, my lady, which cannot be spoken of, and which 
 it is not well to ask about. All I can tell you now is 
 this — that if you will be sensible, Ottorino need not die. 
 I promise you that, on my faith as a Christian knight, 
 and to show my sincerity, I call upon Grod to strike this 
 hand of mine with leprosy if I have any intention of de- 
 ceiving you. Ottorino will not die ; he may go away 
 into Palestine, as the seneschal was saying, but it must 
 be your part to persuade him to go, for it is the best 
 thing for himself that he could do." 
 
 " And what do you want of me ? Tell me how I can 
 save him. If my blood — my life " 
 
 " No, poor child — keep yourself calm. Do not look at 
 me with those frightened eyes ; come forward, sit down, 
 and be at your ease ; do not suspect me, nor any one else, 
 for all here wish to pay as much respect to you as to a 
 queen ; and you are the mistress here, this is your own 
 house." 
 
 " Is it really so ? Then this is the fortress of Castel- 
 letto. I am indeed in the house of my husband." 
 
 " Have done with that expression ! Ottorino is not 
 your husband." 
 
 Beatrice raised her hands to heaven, and remained 
 quite stupefied, without uttering a word, and only staring 
 at her tormentor, who continued : 
 
 " That nonsensical ceremony you went through at
 
 350 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 Milan has no meaning whatever ; you are still an un- 
 married maiden, and can give your hand to whom best 
 pleases you. And do you wish to know in whose castle 
 you are ? It belongs to a great baron ; to a powerful 
 and formidable noble, before whom even princes bend 
 with respect ; and he bends to nothing except the beauty 
 of your face." 
 
 Lauretta, fi-ightened to death, but seeing that her mis- 
 tress could not speak, asked in a trembling voice, " Oh, 
 my God, where then are we ? " 
 
 " At Rosate," answered the other, quickly ; " in Marco 
 Visconti's castle." 
 
 On hearing these words, Ottorino's wife fell in a dead 
 swoon in her attendant's arms, who, amidst her tears, 
 drew her to the bed, and raising her, placed her on it, 
 repulsing with horror and loathing the wicked hands 
 which offered to help in this pious duty. 
 
 While these things were going on at Rosate, Lupo, 
 tired of travelling all day, dismounted at a small inn, 
 and put his horse up in a stable, and after attending to 
 it with his own hands, went into the kitchen to get some 
 supper. It was got ready in a few minutes ; the traveller 
 placed himself at the table, and refreshed himself with 
 such fare as the place afforded, and then asked the host 
 to find him a bed to throw himself on and sleep. 
 
 " I will give you one in a room close by," said the 
 landlord, and taking a lamp, he preceded his guest to 
 the place in question ; but they had not yet left the 
 kitchen, when two armed men entered, one of whom, 
 after glancing at Lupo, slapped the landlord familiarly 
 on the back, and said to him, " Jacopotto, here we are, 
 two men and two horses, and shall not go off till dawn." 
 
 The host put down the light, turned to Lupo, and said 
 he would come back directly, and then taking the new 
 comer by the arm, led him to the chimney, where he 
 leant down to uncover a pot of broth with some mutton 
 in it, and said, " See how savoury it smells." 
 
 The man to whom these words were addressed also 
 bent forward, as if to get a better view, and, approaching 
 the innkeeper, whispered something in his ear.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 351 
 
 He replied aloud, " Now, I will take jou to the stable, 
 where this stranger has also got a horse. It will be 
 rather difficult to get three in, but we will do our best." 
 
 So saying, they both went out, and were soon followed 
 by the other man-at-arms, who had as yet not spoken. 
 
 Lupo, who suspected something underhand, without 
 seeming to observe anything, sauntered to the door 
 opening on the stable-yard, and saw the host engaged in 
 earnest conversation with his two friends on one side of 
 it. On seeing him they separated, and went outside the 
 gate one by one, to continue their conversation in the 
 road, as he supposed. 
 
 " Who can these soldiers be ? " he said to himself, 
 suspiciously. " There must be something underhand 
 in all this ; I must be on my guard." He looked to his 
 sword and dagger, and said, " I must indeed keep my 
 wits about me." 
 
 The host soon returned, and under pretence of 
 wishing to give him better accommodation, offered him 
 a different room to the first, saying, it was quieter, and 
 had a better bed in it. 
 
 Lupo did not believe in all this apparent anxiety, which 
 only confirmed his suspicions that some trick was in- 
 tended ; so he replied with another artifice, that as two 
 fresh horses had arrived he must look after his own, 
 which was a dangerous animal, and must therefore sleep 
 in the stable, and nothing his host could urge was able 
 to shake his determination. 
 
 He then went to the stable, and stroked his faithful 
 horse, which turned to neigh to him in answer, saying to 
 himself he had better go off at once. But then he reflected 
 " the beast is tired, and may well be so, poor thing ; fifty 
 miles at one stretch. To-morrow as much, and so on." 
 
 Meanwhile he went on caressing the good charger, 
 which had again returned to his corn. 
 
 " Besides, how should I get along, on these roads, and 
 at this time of night ? I must wait till morning, and 
 keep awake meanwhile, the nights are not long, and I can 
 well watch for four or five hours. I will make it up to- 
 morrow by sleeping on my horse."
 
 ort} 
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 
 
 So having settled this, he threw himself on a heap of 
 straw, with a firm determination not to go to sleep. 
 
 He then began to reflect as to why the host should be 
 so anxious all at once to give him a more convenient 
 room, especially as he was miknown to him, and certainly 
 had not a very aristocratic appearance. He could not, 
 moreover, make out why the host should have been so 
 unwilling to trust him with a light during the night, for 
 fear of his setting the place on fire — and the result was, 
 that after running the whole matter over in his mind, he 
 felt sure that the affair was not at all satisfactory. 
 
 At last, by dint of recalling minutely to his mind every 
 look, even the most transient, of those three sinister 
 countenances, he remembered to have noticed a peculiar 
 leer on one of them which he had a confused notion of 
 having seen somewhere before. Racking his brains a 
 little more closely, he thought he could detect a slight 
 impression that had been left upon it by something very 
 similar ; and after thinking over the matter again and 
 again, he seemed for a moment to raise the veil that 
 obstructed his recollections, and then again to let it 
 drop. Tet across that veil ever and anon an image 
 seemed to flash, and to grow more and more distinct, 
 which a secret feeling told him had not existed there 
 very long ; and the more he kept this image before his 
 mind's eye, the more he was confirmed in that opinion. 
 
 The next thing was to think over the various persons 
 he had seen between his escape and the present moment. 
 So he tried to remember every particular of his ride from 
 Rescalinda to Milan, and every one's face whom he had 
 met on the road ; but he could not conjure up anything 
 bearing the faintest resemblance to that demoniacal leer 
 — then he ran over in his mind the Count and Countess 
 and the members of their household. Nothing there. 
 Then again — oh, yes — he had remounted and ridden 
 through the courtyard gates. " Ah, that was it !" he 
 exclaimed to himself. " I have got it ! That traitorous 
 grin ! " And, in fact, he had observed it that very day 
 on the face of one of Lodrisio's attendants, whom he 
 remembered to have stumbled upon while in the very 
 act of leavino- the house.
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 353 
 
 "You are very nicely disguised, you scamp!" he 
 thought, " but I know you ! That's the man, I'll lay 
 my life on it ! " 
 
 Then he thought the plot must be deeply laid, and 
 not unlikely to be connected with that to which he and 
 his master had before fallen victims ; and to the faces of 
 the three ruflS.ans who had been so long floating before 
 his imagination, he now added a fourth — that of a still 
 more consummate scoundrel, by name Lodrisio. 
 
 In the midst of these reflections a sudden thought 
 came into his head : " How can such a rascal as this be 
 so great a friend of Marco's ? " 
 
 Now it is scarcely credible, but so it was, that the 
 mere fact of that hero's name flitting across Lupo's brain, 
 had the eifect of dissipating, by degrees, all those ideas 
 that had been rushing through it so recently and with 
 such rapidity. 
 
 This did not take place, however, without his hearing 
 from time to time the voice of an internal monitor bid- 
 ding him to be on his guard. This sent him back again 
 to his first conjectures, which got the mastery over him 
 for a while ; but, worn out as he was by his long ride 
 and by the nights and days passed in that horrible prison, 
 and also by the tension of mind he had just gone through, 
 the poor fellow at last let everything slip, and by degrees 
 closed his eyes, and soon was in the land of obhvion ; and 
 even though he woke up from time to time, each waking 
 was of shorter duration than the one before, till at last 
 the feeling of anxiety that stUl lingered in his mind got 
 blunted by degrees, and all his ideas became inextricably 
 confused, and in the end vanished altogether. In short, 
 not to make too long a story of it, the gallant soldier 
 went fast asleep. 
 
 AÀ
 
 354 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 WHILE in this state he dreamt he was at Lucca, 
 and in a richly-furnished apartment, in company 
 with Marco Visconti ; but the Marco before him had a 
 vacant face and staring glassy eyes. Lupo spoke to him, 
 but received no answer ; he held out to him Ermelinda's 
 letter, but no hand was stretched out to take it. The 
 dreamer then fancied that he offered to kiss Marco's 
 hand, but though he did not see it drawn back, the 
 hand was not where he imagined it to be, and eluded his 
 grasp. What could it all mean ? He must find some 
 one to explain matters to him. But what strange change 
 was happening now ? The hangings, gilding, and orna- 
 ments of the room suddenly vanished ; the walls, besides 
 appearing quite bare, seemed to become dark, rough, 
 and contracted. The gilded ceiling turned into a black 
 and heavy vaulted roof, the pavement became a dung- 
 hill ; a little straw was lying in a corner, and on the 
 straw lay Marco Visconti, stretched at full length. 
 Marco ? Why, it was not Marco. He fancied the figure 
 was suddenly transformed into Ottorino, saying to him, 
 in a faint and timid voice — 
 
 " Is that you. Lupo ? " 
 
 " It is." 
 
 " But I thought you were going to Lucca ? " 
 
 " Yes, I am." 
 
 " And why do you not continue your journey ? And 
 how came you here ? Ah, fly, fly — you are in danger." 
 
 Here a confused medley of whispering voices struck 
 the sleeper's ear, and a light flashed across his eyes, 
 which were still closed ; and, as often happens in dreams 
 that external impressions seem to fit in with, if not to 
 produce the imaginings of the dreamer's mind, he fancied
 
 MARCO YISCONTI. ' 355 
 
 that Ottorino, alarmed by this, continued to call out to 
 him — " See, they are come to murder you — fly for your 
 life ! " He then made an attempt to rise — to speak^to 
 draw his dagger, but, do what he would, he could not 
 put one foot before the other ; his voice seemed choked, 
 and his arms dropped paralysed by his side. 
 
 He remained a few moments in this condition, when 
 on awaking he found his throat tightly clutched, and a 
 heavy weight on his body ; he shook himself, and opening 
 his eyes, found it was not a dream. The two ruffians of 
 the previous evening were leaning on his chest : one was 
 throttling him, while the other was trying to stab him 
 with a dagger, while the host behind them, with a lan- 
 tern in his hand, was crying out, " Hold-him tight — take 
 care he does not get up, and you, Passerino, strike him 
 hard ! run him through the heart." 
 
 " He has armour under his doublet, and the point 
 won't act," answered the latter. 
 
 " Then let me finish him," said the landlord ; " hold 
 him down both of you " — and, laying down his lantern, 
 he ran to fetch the bar of the door. 
 
 Lupo, after some fruitless efforts to escape from that 
 powerful pressure, at last succeeded in rolling over, so 
 that he and the two rogues were soontstruggling together 
 under the legs of one of the horses. The animal, terrified 
 at the noise and confusion he heard beneath him, and 
 gradually becoming infuriated, took to kicking and 
 plunging so far as the halter would allow, and then be- 
 gan stamping first on one, then on another, of the three 
 men thus entangled together, who were at last obliged 
 to let each other go, and separate in order to get out of 
 range of the horse's hoofs. The Limontese was the first 
 to spring on his feet ; out came his sword in the twink- 
 ling of an eye, and seeing the landlord before him, who 
 had kept back all the time, partly from a prudent fear of 
 the horse's heels, partly because, in that medley, of heads, 
 legs, and arms, he could not distinguish between friend 
 and foe, he rushed at him and buried the weapon in his 
 stomach with such force that he felt the hilt strike 
 against his body.
 
 356 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 " Take that, and that ! " said Lupo, as he saw him fall 
 to the ground streaming with blood ; and then turned 
 furiously on one of the other highwaymen, who having 
 just at that moment extricated himself from the horse's 
 legs, was coming at him, with a devilish grin of scorn 
 and rage on his countenance, just such a grin as he had 
 spent so much time in picturing to himself that night 
 before he fell asleep. " Oh, it's you, is it ? " cried out 
 Lupo ; "this is the way they murder Christians in these 
 parts, I suppose? " and so saying, he gave the villain 
 such a tremendous backhanded blow, that, in the first 
 place he cut through the fellow's right hand, which, 
 together with his dagger, he held aloft to try and parry 
 the blow, and then ran him right through the cheek. 
 The sanguinary monster remaining erect for an instant, 
 clenched with a horrible grimace the two white rows of 
 his teeth that were laid bare by the blow ; he then reeled 
 from side to side, clutching at the air with his remaining 
 hand and the bloody stump of the other, like one bereft 
 of his senses, and at last fell crossways against the wall, 
 deluging it with liis blood. 
 
 There now only remained the third assassin, and he, 
 seeing how things were going, had tried to escape on all 
 fours between the horses, and ha^àng succeeded in pass- 
 ing all but one, had now risen to his feet, and was edging 
 round the back of this last to gain the door, when the 
 beast, maddened by all the confusion, flung out behind 
 so furiously that it would have gone ill with him if he 
 had been caught. But strange to say, this very circum- 
 stance saved him ; the horse, straining violently, broke 
 his halter and escaped from the stable, and the man, 
 seeing him pass close by, caught hold of his mane, leapt 
 on his back and in a moment was away across the fields, 
 as if a demon was behind him. Lupo, after having 
 pursued him for a time, saw that it was lost labour and 
 returned to the hostelry, watching to see that others did 
 not come up in the meantime to give him a disagreeable 
 reception. But the inn was solitary and out of the way, 
 only inhabited by the landlord and his wife, despatched 
 by him to spend that night with one of her gossips, so
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 357 
 
 as to manage this murderous plot in an easier manner ; 
 and tlierefore, notwithstanding all the noise, no living 
 soul had appeared on the scene. 
 
 Lupo entered the yard, and came to the stable, where 
 he only found the two he had left there ; Lodrisio's 
 squire was dead, but the landlord holding up his hand 
 all dripping with blood, stretched it towards him, saying : 
 " For mercy's sake — I have a burning thirst — you will 
 find outside a tub full of water ; bring me a sip, for I am 
 at my last gasp." 
 
 Lupo went out, and returned at once with the water. 
 The wounded man gulped it down with avidity, and then 
 said : " How little I thought what would happen to- 
 night, when I drew this at the well, to wash away the 
 blood when they had murdered you ! " 
 
 Our Limontese saddled his horse, and got on it ; then 
 the host, seeing he was going off, gasped out the follow- 
 ing words : " Another act of charity, as you are a Chris- 
 tian ! do not leave me to die in mortal sin. At the end 
 of the road you will see a church steeple, pray send me 
 the priest." 
 
 Lupo assured him he would not fail to do rio ; and, as 
 he passed the curate's house, he knocked at the door, 
 and hearing a window opened, he called out : " The 
 landlord wants you — make haste to him, and take the 
 holy oil with you ! " 
 
 " What is the matter ? What has happened, my good 
 man ? " shouted the priest after him, but the rider went 
 on at a sharp trot without paying any attention. 
 
 On he went quite alone ; from time to time he stretched 
 his numbed and battered limbs ; and as he felt on diffe- 
 rent parts of his body, the smarts of many slight skin 
 wounds inflicted by the sharp point of the stiletto pene- 
 trating between the rings of his mail armour, he said : 
 " How lucky it was I put on my good steel coat." After 
 a time he felt a pain in his shoulders, which was most 
 likely a scratch received when he was rolling with his 
 two friends under the feet of the horse. And last of all 
 he became aware of a graze he had on his temple from a 
 stroke of the dagger, and which he had scarcely perceived
 
 358 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 in tlie excitement of tlie strug-gle. He touclied it witli 
 his hand, and said to himself : " What a rascal that 
 Lodrisio is to have a Christian's throat cat like a sheep ! 
 and one, too, vs^ho never did him any harm in his life. 
 It mnst be his envy and hati'ed that has injured my 
 master ! And if so, no doubt Beatrice's abduction must 
 be his arrangement also. Ah ! I ought to have guessed 
 something when I met him this morning, and I saw him 
 scan me from head to foot, and then fix his eyes on his 
 squire. And that horrid grin, fancy my seeing it on the 
 face of that gallows bird, vf hen he was coming at me like 
 a mastilf to 'tear me in pieces. But I had the best of it 
 after all. That was a fine stroke, I vow ! and dovni the 
 knave went. It's a lesson to let sleeping dogs lie." 
 
 By this time dawn was breaking, and some human 
 beings began to appear on the road, and peasants with 
 their tools on their backs on their way to. reap. Lupo, 
 cheered by the returning Hght of day, and the sight of 
 the fields, and men and animals moving about in them, 
 soon began to forget the perils of the past night, and the 
 blows given and received : and he was travelling on with 
 all his thoughts turned to Marco, and to the distance he 
 had. yet to traverse before reaching him, when all at once 
 he heard a great disturbance in a vineyard on his left 
 hand. " Stop him ! hold him ! " and other cries. He 
 saw a number of country folk, all in a jumble together, 
 pursuing a man on horseback, who was going at a 
 furious pace across country. Only imagine that this 
 was one of the worthies from the inn, the third who had 
 escaped as by a miracle from our Limontese. The steed 
 he was bestriding, a savage and uncontrollable stallion, 
 had, as may be remembered, broken his halter, and now 
 w^as careering desperately along, taking tremendous 
 leaps, rushing through the rows of vines, breaking down 
 the stakes, and destroying everything ; and the shouts 
 of the pursuing peasants seemed only to increase his 
 speed and fury. Covered with dust and foam, his power- 
 ful flanks and chest stained with blood, panting and 
 neighing, his ears down, his crest erect, and his tail 
 raised ; he snorted fiercely, and scattered in his mad
 
 MAECO TISCOJfTI. 359 
 
 career stones and clods of earth all round him. The 
 man on his back stuck on like grim death, holding the 
 mane, and crying out, " Help ! help ! " Lupo recognised 
 him at once, and stopped to see how the matter would 
 end. 
 
 The horse went on in his course for some time, alter- 
 ing his direction according to the manner in which he 
 was chased by the country-people ; but at last, blinded 
 by fright, he came with a great shock against the trunk 
 of a large tree, and both he and his rider rolled on the 
 ground. The animal had his neck broken, but the rider 
 was quite unhurt, and sprang to his feet as lightly as a 
 cat ; but while he was shaking off the earth and sand 
 with which he was daubed, he raised his eyes, and saw 
 behind him the magician who had finished off his two 
 companions in two blows, Lupo himself ; who, having 
 followed the horse's course, had arrived at the scene of 
 the disaster. 
 
 Mercy on us ! the man gave himself up for dead : he 
 saw he had no chance of escaping on foot from one on 
 horseback, and threw himself on his knees, begging for 
 his life. 
 
 " Who are you, you scamp? " asked Lupo. 
 
 "Most noble sir," answered the poor wretch, shaking 
 in every limb, " I am a poor devil : what I did, I did 
 not do it out of treachery ; it was only to get a little 
 bread for my poor children, five little treasures I have 
 at home ; and it was Passerino who let me into the 
 scrape." 
 
 "Bat what was his quarrel with me ? " 
 
 " I know nothing about it." 
 
 " What, can't you tell me anything ? " 
 
 " No, I know nothing ; you can kill me, but I have 
 nothing to tell. He came last night to my house, and 
 said, ' Come and earn a gold florin,' but I know nothing 
 else ; and I do not even know who you are." 
 
 " Bravo ! and you came off quietly to cut the throat 
 of a perfect stranger ? " 
 
 " You are quite right, and I only ask your mercy. 
 You can do with me what you will, but I commend my
 
 360 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 children to yon. Tou may believe me, that hunger 
 drove me to it. In these times of scarcity, I could not 
 see them die before my eyes of starvation." 
 
 Lupo drew out of his pocket a gold florin, and throw- 
 ing it on the ground, said, " This is not for you, you 
 rascal, but for your children, and remember, if I had 
 caught you half an hour ago, these reasons would not 
 have saved your life ; now be off, and return thanks to 
 your patron saint." 
 
 So saying, he shook his reins, and went on with his 
 journey, experiencing no more adventures worthy of 
 being recorded. 
 
 On his arrival at Lucca, he saw a number of people 
 dispersed in the streets making a great noise, and 
 guessed this must be a rising of the inhabitants. As he 
 went on, the crowd increased, as also did the confusion 
 and disorder. Weapons of different sorts and scaling- 
 ladders were being brandished aloft ; and at times, amid 
 the deep and sinister murmur of an excited multitude, 
 might be distinguished the ringing of a bell, and some 
 cries of agony, to which the populace replied by derisive 
 howls. 
 
 " What has happened here ? " asked Lupo of a boy, 
 whom he saw leaving a house, with a spit in his hand, 
 and betaking himself into the thick of the mob. 
 
 " Don't you know ? " was the reply, " they are going 
 to lay siege to the palace of the government ; all hands 
 to work ! we must finish up those renegades ! " And so 
 saying, he was off in a moment. 
 
 " Lay siege to the palace of the Signoria ? " said Lupo 
 to himself. " If I am not mistaken, that is where they 
 told me at Milan, was Marco's abode." And with his 
 mind all astir with this news, he went on a little, intend- 
 ing to find out more about the matter. But then, he 
 reflected, that to ask so openly about Marco, in the midst 
 of a crowd of people, who apparently were in open re- 
 volt against him, could do no good to anyone ; so calm- 
 ing his anxiety as well as he could, he retraced his steps 
 to a hostelry wliich he remembered to have observed in 
 passing.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 361 
 
 On entering the house, he put up his horse in the 
 stable, and tlaen began, in a careless sort of way, to 
 chatter a bit with the old landlady, who was the only 
 person in the house — her husband and her two sons 
 having gone out to join in the tumult ; and, leading her 
 on by degrees, as if it was no particular business of his, 
 he set her tongue wagging glibly, and got out of her 
 everything he wanted to know. 
 
 The state of affairs was as follows : — 
 
 Marco had been at Florence for some days ; mean- 
 while, one of the commanders of the German troops, 
 who had been left as his lieutenant at Lucca, had given 
 the rein to the soldiery, who, for some time past im- 
 patient of constraint, had now run riot over the town as 
 if it were their own property, plundering, imposing 
 taxes, satisfying their feelings of revenge — in a word, 
 committing all sorts of atrocities ; and the townspeople, 
 already infuriated by the suspicion that Visconti was 
 intriguing to sell Lucca to the Republic of Florence, 
 had risen in insurrection. 
 
 Lupo, who, at the first idea that Marco was in danger, 
 had decided on one of two courses, either to rescue him 
 or to perish in his behalf, felt much relieved when he 
 xieard that he was well away from these troubles. As 
 there was now nothing more for him to do in Lucca, he 
 at once resumed his journey to endeavour to find him in 
 Florence ; for he well knew how important it was that 
 Ermelinda's letter should reach its destination as soon 
 as possible, as on this might depend the lives of three 
 persons who, in their different ways, were all precious 
 to him. So he got on his horse, and off he went. The 
 journey from Lucca to Florence is rather a long one, 
 and we do not suppose our readers have any great de- 
 sire to accompany him, so we will let him jog on at his 
 ease, and changing the scene, will transfer ourselves to 
 the Arno, where, till Lupo's arrival, we can occupy our- 
 selves with Marco's proceedings.
 
 362 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 SINCE the last letter written by Marco to Lodrisio, 
 which the reader will remember he received from 
 Pelagrua at the castle of Rosate, affairs at Lucca had 
 persistently gone from bad to worse. The Grerman 
 troops, composed of needy unprincipled adventurers, 
 utterly regardless of discipline, had conducted them- 
 selves in such a way that they could no longer be con- 
 trolled by Visconti. 
 
 Marco, who had to contend every day with this dis- 
 orderly rabble, owed the little hold over them he still 
 possessed, to the lustre of his name, the dignity of his 
 personal bearing, and to his readiness of speech ; quali- 
 ties which always fascinate the multitude, even in its 
 own despite. Time after time his presence had been 
 sufficient to make these turbulent troops lay aside their 
 arms, which they were on the point of imbruing in the 
 blood of his subjects. Time after time he had ordered 
 these very rebels to arrest their ringleaders, and such 
 was the awe inspired by the dignified severity of his 
 countenance, that they had not once ventured to dis- 
 obey. 
 
 At the same time he saw plainly enough by how slight 
 a thread he upheld an authority disputed at the very 
 first, and which had no intrinsic strength of its own. 
 Now, his original title he could not alter, and whence 
 was the intrinsic strength to come ? You will say, it 
 ought to be sought for among the citizens themselves, 
 among the oppressed people of Lucca, who naturally 
 ought to have the courage to unite, in order to shake off 
 the scourge and plague of those fiends incarnate from 
 their backs. But the difficulty lay with the citizens 
 themselves, part of whom had never been able to look
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 363 
 
 favourably on Marco, part had lost what little love they 
 ever had for him, and the rest had conceived a violent 
 hatred against him. One man could not stand a master 
 who was not a native of Lucca, another could not for- 
 give his having made friends with the Guelphs ; some 
 urged one complaint, some another. But the main rea- 
 son why he was so universally blamed was, that finding 
 himself, as the saying is, between the anvil and the 
 hammer, he had often winked at minor evils to avoid 
 greater. For instance, he had more than once shut his 
 eyes to abuses and encroachments on the part of those 
 too powerful troops, and had not been sufficiently care- 
 ful to hold an even balance in regard to the daily 
 squabbles between them and the townspeople, so as to 
 maintain the right of the weak against the tyranny of 
 the strong. Not that Marco really loved injustice ; but 
 his notions of justice were, like those of most soldiers, 
 of a rough and ready kind, that did not stand much 
 upon ceremony, and besides, he had to keep up his own 
 position. The end of it all was, that Marco felt he 
 could not depend upon the citizens to assist him in 
 making head against the partisans of Ceruglio. Be- 
 sides, these citizens were all unarmed, and ignorant of 
 military discipline, and, what was worst of all, were at 
 feud amongst themselves, plebeians against nobles, and 
 vice versa, quarter against quarter, faction against fac- 
 tion ; the upper classes complained of the lower, the 
 lower of the higher ; so you may suj)pose the Germans 
 had it pretty much their own way with them. 
 
 This very insurrection, mentioned above, was confined 
 to one quarter of the town, the rest not responding to 
 the summons ; and the handful of wretches who were 
 making such a disturbance at the time Lupo entered 
 the city, before he had gone five or six miles on his 
 forward journey, were all shut up in their houses, 
 speechless with terror, except twenty or so of them, who 
 were lying on the pavement of the squares and streets, 
 pierced with the German lances, or trodden to pieces 
 by their horses' hoofs. These were the fine results 
 they had obtained by this foolish attempt, save and
 
 364 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 except, as may be supposed, a fresh, squeeze and anotliei' 
 turn of the halter, which was already round their 
 necks. 
 
 So that I think we shall agree that Marco was in 
 some respects to be pitied, if, in order to keep the strong 
 quiet, he tried to ingratiate himself with the weak, and 
 sometimes winked at infractions of justice for the sake 
 of humanity. 
 
 At last, finding himself reduced to such straits, and 
 perceiving that things were growing worse every day, 
 and that the government of Lucca was slipping from 
 his grasp, he determined to get rid of it in good time 
 beforehand, on the best terms he could. So having 
 come to an understanding with the leaders, or constables, 
 as they were then called, of the German troops, he 
 entered upon secret negotiations with the Republic of 
 Florence, which had been striving for some time past to 
 obtain from him the cession of the city of Lucca. The 
 preliminaries of the bargain were already far advanced, 
 and there remained only a few minor points to be settled, 
 and this was the object, as was supposed, of Marco's 
 visit to Florence. 
 
 The money that was to be paid for the proposed ces- 
 sion of Lucca, was to be employed partly in making up 
 their arrears to the German troops, and the rest Marco 
 seems to have intended to use in taking those very 
 troops into his own pay, and leading them into Lom- 
 bardy, to assist in carrying out the plan he and Lodrisio 
 had been maturing for such a long time. 
 
 We must not, however, fancy that all went on smoothly. 
 On the contrary, he was full of bitterness, disgust, and 
 misgivings, on account of the endless unforeseen diffi- 
 culties arising on all sides, owing to old grudges and 
 enmities which now came to be displayed against him. 
 At one time he was irritated by the nonchalant sluggish- 
 ness of some strong partisan, at another he suspected 
 that some friend would betray him ; and just at that 
 moment he was tormented by the news that the beast he 
 wanted to sell, instead of letting itself be led quietly in 
 a halter, had commenced kicking and butting with its
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 365 
 
 horns. To this was added a feeling of disgust, ill dis- 
 sembled even from himself, and a secret shame at the 
 oargain he was on the point of clenching ; not to 
 mention an incessant and excruciating undercurrent of 
 remorse and passion, which seemed to pervade his whole 
 mind, and to mingle itself with every other feeling. 
 
 The day preceding that on which the treaty for the 
 acquisition of Lucca was to be laid before the Florentine 
 Council, Marco, who had received an intimation that the 
 " Priors, and other rulers of the land " would hear what 
 he had to say before they proceeded to a discussion, was 
 alone in his apartment, and had just finished picking out 
 of a bundle of papers the various treaties entered into 
 up to that day, between himself and the agents of the 
 Republic, when a page entered to announce the arrival 
 of a courier from Lombardy, who had passed through 
 Lucca. " Let him come in at once," said Marco, think- 
 ing he was one of those despatched by Lodrisio every 
 week. 
 
 The new arrival appeared. It was Lupo, who, nearly 
 beside himself with joy and bewilderment at finding 
 himself in the presence of this man, could not bring out 
 a word, so merely took Ermelinda's letter from his 
 bosom and presented it. Visconti put it down on a 
 table without even glancing at the address, and asked, 
 " Then you have come through Lucca ? " 
 
 " Yes, I came across Lucca," answered Lupo, whose 
 heart beat so fast that he could hardly speak, and he 
 added, after having to a degree recovered his breath ; 
 " and I left it in a great commotion." 
 
 "By this time the town is as quiet as a convent," 
 returned Marco, who had received three or four expresses 
 to keep him informed of the revolt during its entire 
 progress from beginning to end. " But I hope you re- 
 ceived no injury there." 
 
 " Oh ! no, indeed ! " replied the youth, encouraged by 
 the kind manner in which this question was asked. 
 " And if anyone — I am not inchned by nature to bear 
 insults patiently ; and when I was on my way to Marco, I 
 should like to see the person who would dare to harm me."
 
 366 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 On hearing this boast Visconti raised his eyes to the 
 speaker's face, scanning him for a moment from head to 
 foot, and then bestowing a kindly smile upon him, said, 
 " You are not one of the usual messengers — you have 
 been a soldier, have you not ? " 
 
 " I am one now." 
 
 " You see, I guessed right ! I know our craft by their 
 looks ; and you have a countenance which agrees with 
 your words, and assures me you are an honourable and 
 honest fellow." 
 
 Lupo blushed scarlet with the pleasurable excitement 
 caused by these praises ; and Marco, walking up to him, 
 continued : " You are very young ; tell me what actions 
 you have taken part in ? " 
 
 " The first action I was in was the one on the 
 Adda ; I fought there under your banner, and after- 
 wards " 
 
 But Visconti, without letting him go on, took hold of 
 his cheek between his fingers, and pincliing it with 
 military friendliness : " So you were one of those good 
 blades who stuck so close to me through the year 
 twenty-four. You learnt your trade pretty quick. We 
 must be old friends in that case." 
 
 I can hardly describe the Limontese's emotion at 
 feeling himself touched by that hand, and hearing such 
 words from those lips. He felt as if he could walk on 
 air. From the region of the cheek pressed between 
 Marco's fingers there was diffused through his whole 
 being a pleasant thrill — for admiration, like love, has its 
 madness, its enthusiasm. 
 
 When Visconti withdrew his hand, he seized it and 
 kissed it with the fervour of a devotee. 
 
 This warm and loyal impulse touched the heart of the 
 generous leader, who, accustomed to live in camps, in 
 the midst of war and dangers, took pleasure in nothing 
 so much as the attachment of his soldiers ; and this 
 demonstration of feeling seemed all the more gratifying, 
 as for a long time he had been far away from his own 
 people ; hence he exclaimed, much maved : " My good 
 Milanese for ever ! "
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 367 
 
 " Long live Marco ! Long live our Captain ! " cried 
 Lupo. " Oh, when shall I see those days again, when I 
 rushed to victory with your name on my lips ! " 
 
 " Listen to me," said Visconti, lowering his voice ; 
 " those days may return, and perhaps at no great dis- 
 tance of time. When you go back into Lombardy you 
 will say to your valiant comrades : ' Marco's heart has 
 always been with you, and you must trust in your old 
 leader.' As to yourself, attend to me ; at whatever time 
 or place, or in whatever condition I may be in, the first 
 time that you chance to see rae, come to me with con- 
 fidence ; remember what I have now told you, and you 
 shall not be the loser." 
 
 While the boy was pouring forth thanks and protesta- 
 tions, Marco cut his words short by saying : " Why did 
 you not make yourself known to me before?" And 
 then going to the table he took up a pen, and said : 
 " Soldier, your name ? " 
 
 " Lupo, from Limonta." 
 
 " Lupo ? that name I have heard before, it is not 
 altogether strange to me." 
 
 " That may be, for you once condescended to write it 
 down with your own glorious hand on a sheet of paper 
 which saved my life." 
 
 Then Marco recalled the letter which, at Beatrice's 
 entreaty, he had written to the Abbot of San Ambrogio, 
 on that fatal night, which was indelibly inscribed in his 
 memory. He remembered that the man for whom the 
 favour had been asked was a squire of Ottorino's ; so 
 now he gazed with renewed attention on the face of the 
 youth before him, and recognized him as the same who 
 had served as squire to Ottorino on the day of the joust. 
 Quite amazed at this discovery, he said to himself : 
 " Why on earth did Lodrisio send me this man as a 
 messenger — a retainer of his enemy ? " and thought of 
 questioning Lupo on the subject ; but on second thoughts 
 decided to examine instead the letter just arrived, in the 
 belief that it was from Lodrisio, hoping to find in it the 
 explanation of such a strange circumstance. 
 
 He took up the sheet of paper and opened it, and the
 
 368 MAECO VISCONTI. 
 
 first thing that surprised him was to see it was in ordi- 
 nary writing, and not in cipher ; then, struck by the first 
 sentence, he ran over the paper with his eyes to discover 
 the signature. Who can describe his feelings at seeing 
 Ermelinda's name ! Fearing that his excitement might 
 betray him into some undignified action, he at once dis- 
 missed Lupo, who left him, wondering as to the cause of 
 the sudden change he could not help remarking, in the 
 features and expression of the great man. 
 
 During the short time which Marco spent in locking 
 and bolting the door, a hundred speculations filled his 
 mind : " Is it possible that Beatrice has ceased to care 
 for Ottorino, — and would be willing — oh, I must be in 
 ray dotage to hope so. It is more likely to beg me to 
 cease opposing this match. Perhaps it is to announce 
 to me that she is already married, that all is over ! It 
 would be a crushing blow, and yet I feel that I could 
 bear it — yes, bear it, and even offer these much-tried 
 people every amends in my power, and oblige them to 
 forgive me." 
 
 He sat down with the letter in his hand, and read : 
 
 " Marco, — A disconsolate raother throws herself at 
 your feet, and bathing your proud hand with bitter tears, 
 conjures you, by all you hold sacred in heaven and earth, 
 to give her back her only daughter, the supreme joy, the 
 last comfort of her unhappy life. I know that the great 
 ones of this earth are oft times used to surround their 
 lives with mystery, to conceal their actions, and after 
 committing an injustice, in order to 'appear irresponsible, 
 to make a show of irritation with even the complaints of 
 the victim who has suffered. But you — you have a soul 
 made for pity ; you have known in past times what sor- 
 row is, and will not refuse the prayers of a poor afflicted 
 woman. 
 
 " Marco, my daughter has been stolen from me — for 
 more than twenty days she has been in the power of 
 others. Who can tell where she may be, or into whose 
 hands she has fallen ? It is to you that I confidently 
 appeal to restore her at once unharmed to her desolate 
 parents, to her husband, who has been betrayed and
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 369 
 
 violently torn from her. It is her own mother who 
 claims her from you, in the name of all who love her, in 
 the name of God, I implore you, kneeling humbly before 
 you, with my head in the dust, with my spirit dismayed 
 and trembling, but inspired at the same time with the 
 confidence that is given me by the certainty that my 
 words are heard in heaven, and that even for the power- 
 ful there is a punishment in store. 
 
 " Oh, Marco, forgive me ! I will but weep and pray — 
 all my words shall be lowly and humble — forgive a poor 
 mother who is made frantic by excess of grief. Oh, if I 
 knew how to touch your heart ! See, I have already told 
 you she is the wife of Ottorino. Yes, he has put the 
 ring on her finger ; their um'on is blessed before Grod. 
 I was foremost in hastening tliis marriage, and must I 
 own why ? Can I without confusion, without shame ? 
 You yourself will believe me when I say that I acted 
 thus, partly from the affection I had for you. 
 
 " I swear to you that I wished your welfare in this, 
 that I felt sure it was the only means of diverting your 
 mind from an ill-omened house, out of which nothing 
 but disasters have ever come upon you. Because, you 
 see, if even — if ever I could have forgotten myself so 
 much as to give my daughter for youi* bride, Beatrice 
 could never have been yours, for her young heart was 
 already bestowed on another. Marco ! I knew you well 
 formei'ly, and I know that you would not then have 
 desired a body without a soul ; that you could not have 
 found your happiness in the misery of the lady of your 
 love. Now, tell me if Beatrice's mother has been mis- 
 taken in judging of you as Brmelinda once judged. 
 
 " Do you still remember that unhappy name ? It is 
 all that is left to me of what I was — time and grief have 
 destroyed the rest. You — how much glory you have 
 won ! Powerful, revered, and dreaded by your enemies ! 
 The pride and the idol of Lombardy ! But I — I have 
 nothing but my daughter, that sweet and cherished trea- 
 sure of my life ; my only comfort and hope ; all my 
 pride is centred in her alone. Ah ! by your courtesy — 
 by your world-wide fame — by what passed once between 
 B B
 
 370 MARCO TISCONTI. 
 
 US — if I was ever beloved by you, deliver me from this 
 agony ; restore my daughter to me ; restore her now, 
 before grief has closed for ever these eyes weary of 
 weeping. Oh, if you knew the anguish of my days ! If 
 you could exj>erience the horrors of one single hour of 
 my long nights, haunted by ghostly fears ! If you knew 
 what it is to be a mother ! My life, as you know, has 
 always been thickly sown with sorrows ; but all the past 
 is a shadow, a dream, to the torment and agony which 
 this mortal blow causes me. No ! I did not believe it 
 was possible to suffer so much in this world. Oh, God ! 
 merciful God ! Your hand is laid too heavily on a feeble 
 human being, cease this chastening which I can no longer 
 support ; take me into your good keeping, but first save 
 my daughter ! Alas ! tears cloud my vision, my hand 
 shakes ; I feel I can do no more. Marco ! would I were 
 able to fall at your feet and expire there, while asking 
 with my last voice that favour which you could not deny 
 to a dying soul ! 
 
 " Have pity, have pity on the miserable 
 
 "Ekmelinda."
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 371 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THIS letter sent a dagger throiagli Marco's heart ; he 
 proposed to mount at once and ride straight away 
 to Milan, and he was with difficulty restrained by the 
 remembrance of the affairs of Lucca, and the treaty that 
 was to be settled the next day. He spent all that night 
 as if lying on thorns, without closing his eyes, pierced and 
 tortured as he was by ten thousand pangs of terror and 
 remorse, coupled with a frantic impatience that nearly 
 drove him mad. He leapt from his couch, rushed to 
 the balcony to look out and see if it were yet the day- 
 light, so longed for and yet so much dreaded. Then, 
 after striding rapidly up and down the chamber, he 
 again threw himself on his bed, where he tossed and 
 rolled from side to side, without obtaining* a moment's 
 peace or repose. 
 
 At last it was day ; the appointed hour struck, and he 
 presented himself before the Priors ; his face was hag- 
 gard, his eyes started out of liis head ; he spoke but 
 little, and his utterance was thick and confused, im- 
 patient of the slightest contradiction ; he disputed 
 everything that was said or done, and seemed as if he 
 wanted to pick a quarrel with everybody. In short, he 
 so overstepped the boundaries of discretion and common 
 civility, that the small minority who had always been 
 against the purchase had no difficulty now in bringing 
 over the majority to their side, which was done the 
 more readily as it was clear that no trust could be 
 placed in the professions or good faith of a person so 
 whimsical, haughty, and discourteous ; in fact, it really 
 was a question whether he were not almost, if not 
 quite, out of his mind. It was, therefore, decided to 
 give up Lucca altogether, and break off at once all
 
 372 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 negotiations relating thereto. Marco, who had with- 
 drawn from the Council Chamber during these delibera- 
 tions, no sooner heard what had been decided upon, 
 than, without saying- a word to the German leaders, 
 who had come with him to Florence on account of all 
 this business, or showing surprise or anger at so unex- 
 pected a rebuff, he returned to his palace, and, accom- 
 panied by Lupo and two attendants, mounted his horse, 
 and set off on his return to Lombardy, before any one 
 knew anything at all about it. 
 
 By the aid of frequent relays of horses he travelled 
 night and day, and on the way he made Lupo tell him 
 all he knew about Beatrice and his master Ottorino. 
 
 Ermelinda had gone into no particulars in her letter, 
 as she felt sure that Marco held the threads of the whole 
 plot in his bands, and therefore supposed that he must 
 know far more about the affair than she could possibly 
 have told him in the compass of a letter. 
 
 Visconti, however, being quite in the dark about it 
 all, on hearing now for the first time of the disappear- 
 ance of Beatrice and her maid, of the trap in which the 
 speaker himself had been caught together with his 
 master, and of the danger he had since run, on his 
 journey to Lucca, and on thinking over the events of 
 the past year, could not help remembering what mortal 
 aversion Lodrisio had always shown towards Ottorino. 
 He then remembered a certain offer that had been made 
 to him through Pelagrua to rid him of that young 
 knight, and of certain malicious expressions and insinua- 
 tions directed against him either by Pelagrua himself or 
 by some agent on his behalf, and on comparing the 
 dates, the event itself, and the character of the parties, 
 he found such a remarkable coincidence that he felt 
 persuaded that the whole assassination scheme had been 
 concocted by those two dissemblers, who had been for 
 some time, to his certain knowledge, on the most inti- 
 mate terms with each other. Having arrived at this 
 conclusion, he felt the blood boil in his veins, and his 
 cheeks flush scarlet ; he swore in his rage to revenge 
 himself on those traitors for seeking to bring such in-
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 373 
 
 famy on his head ; and to punish them for the agony 
 they had caused the poor mother and her unfortunate 
 daughter, and indeed not to rest so long as either of 
 those rascals still lived ; and absorbed as he was in 
 these visions of revenge and fury, he spurred his pal- 
 frey and continued his journey at full gallop. 
 
 Arriving at Milan at last, after a rough and hasty 
 journey, he sent his two grooms with the horses to his 
 palace, while he himself and Lupo made the best of their 
 way to the house of Count del Balzo, determined by some 
 means to have an interview with Ermelinda, and to find 
 out all she knew of the whereabouts of the missing pair, 
 with a view to taking immediate steps for their rescue. 
 He wished at the same time to clear himself to her of 
 the charge of being mixed up in such a piece of 
 treachery ; for he could not endure the notion of 
 being branded with such infamy in the mind of the 
 woman whom he formerly loved more than life itself, 
 and still reverenced more than any other being in the 
 world. 
 
 It was midnight and pitch dark when Lupo knocked 
 at the door of the Count's palace, and Marco drew down 
 his visor, to avoid being recognized by the lacqueys. On 
 entering, a deep silence reigned in the house, and Lupo 
 guided Visconti through a succession of apartments 
 into a little out-of-the-way room, where he left him 
 with a lighted candle, saying he was going to awaken 
 one of Ermelinda's female servants, to bid her inform 
 her mistress of Marco's ari-ival, and that he wanted to 
 speak to her at once. 
 
 Marco then unfastened his helmet, laid it on the table, 
 and threw himself into an armchair to await Ermehnda's 
 coming. He had not seen her for five-and-twenty years. 
 How their respective circumstances had changed in that 
 time ! How different was she whom he then left to her 
 whom he now was to see ! How could he sustain her 
 looks, certain as she was to taunt him with having 
 caused her father's death, and her own present misery, 
 after the love she had lavished upon him. The slightest 
 sound he heard, the faintest shadow of anything moving
 
 374 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 that he saw, made him exclaim, " Here she is," and a 
 coki shudder ran through his frame. 
 
 But he had not long to wait ; he suddenly saw a door 
 in front of him open very gently, and a lady glide in, clad 
 in a loose white garment, with her hair in a partly dishe- 
 velled state. Her face was tinged with a slight flush, 
 which clearly had been called forth by some extraordinary 
 agitation, and concealed for a moment its ordinary pallid 
 hue, all the more visible by contrast with that temporary 
 coloui'ing. Her eyes, swelled and reddened by her long 
 vigils and weeping, glistened with a slight ray of hope, 
 mingled, however, with an ill-concealed look of appre- 
 hension. 
 
 Visconti at first scarcely recognized Ermelinda, so 
 sadly had age and suffering altered her from what she 
 once was ; but, however much he might feel certain 
 from seeing her in that place, and in such distress, that 
 she could be none other than the mother of Beatrice, 
 yet he could not bring himself to address her, and re- 
 mained for a moment in suspense ; when the lady, com- 
 ing close up to him, gently extending her arms, and fix- 
 ing her eyes on the ground, exclaimed, " Is it you P " 
 
 It was the same sweet- sou^n ding accents, the same 
 celestial harmony that he had so often drunk in in his 
 youth. He jumped up as if he were giddy, fixed his 
 astonished eyes in a frightened manner on the lady's 
 countenance, scanning her, and in that first moment of 
 frenzy, almost hoping still to find in her the beauty and 
 that enchanting ray of love that was the light of his life 
 for so many years, and the memory of which alone in his 
 maturer years had produced his mad love for Beatrice ; 
 but soon recovering himself, he cast down his eyes, and 
 remained sorrowfully standing there, without uttering a 
 word. 
 
 " And is it you yourself ? " said Ermelinda in a sweet 
 though melancholy tone ; " and have you come in per- 
 son to restore me to life ? The Lord will reward you 
 for this act of mercy. I have been telling myself that 
 when Marco is fully aware of the grief he has caused, he 
 is too good and generous not to endeavour to undo it."
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 375 
 
 Marco, on hearing these words, was seized with so 
 much tender pity for the unfortunate lady, and by such 
 wi'ath against himself, that he could not restrain a 
 gesture of annoyance, which at first greatly alarmed his 
 companion. 
 
 " Do you call me good and generous ? " he said in a 
 half-stifled voice. " For mercy sake, Ermelinda, cease 
 such cruel satire. I am in truth a miserable wretch, but 
 I have not so entirely hardened my heart as not to know 
 my own sins, and to feel a comfort in confessing them, 
 and in confessing them to you in particular." 
 
 " No, do not speak in this way. God will pardon 
 you — I have already forgiven you. The consolation 
 you now afford me makes up to me for the anguish I 
 have endured. Now, tell me, where is my daughter ? 
 When shall I see her again ? " 
 
 " Have you not had any clue to her whereabouts 
 from the jester, who was on her track ? " asked Marco 
 anxiously. 
 
 At these words the lady changed countenance ; a sud- 
 den cloud darkened her brow, which had begun to wear 
 an air of hope. She looked at Visconti, and replied with 
 hesitation, " The jester, you say ? — no, he has never ap- 
 peared again, and I begin to be afraid. But you — why 
 do you ask me ? " — and she stopped short. 
 
 " I see, Ermelinda," pursued Visconti, " that you think 
 it is I who am the cause of Beatrice's disappearance ; 
 but this is not the case. You must know " 
 
 " Oh, my Grod ! where is she then ? Forgive me, 
 Marco ; it is not that I doubt your word, but did you 
 not almost own to me this deed yourself, just now ? 
 And, you see, I have already known for some time, your 
 feelings towards my poor child." 
 
 "Listen to me," said Visconti, bending down his 
 head, in the attitude of a man conscious of guilt, and 
 beginning his speech in a slow, faint voice, which be- 
 came agitated and excited as he went on. " Listen to 
 me, Ermelinda. It is true that I did love your daughter 
 — I loved her with an overwhelming love. It was the 
 impress of your image in her face, it was your soul that
 
 376 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 I fancied was transfused into hers, whicli fascinated me, 
 and took away my senses. If I had only been able to lay 
 a crown at her feet ! to make her my wife and my queen ! 
 There was one moment when I tasted the divine sweet- 
 ness of hope, and that moment was my destruction ; an 
 insidious poison ran through my veins, and filled my 
 whole being. When I felt certain that the maiden had 
 already listened to the vows of another, it was too late, 
 the wound had become incurable. I will not describe to 
 you the long and intricate path of suffering by which I 
 was urged at last to plan the death of my faithful fol- 
 lower, my dearest and most generous relation. I tremble 
 even now when I think I was within an ace of imbruing 
 in his blood this very hand, which he had pressed so 
 often with the tender and respectful affection of a 
 son." 
 
 "Are yon speaking of Ottorino ? " 
 
 " Yes, the unknown knight who fought with him to the 
 death on the day of the joust, was that madman who 
 stands before you." 
 
 The lady raised her eyes compassionately to Yisconti's 
 face, and apparently was on the point of saying some- 
 thing ; but he continued in the heat of an ever-growing 
 remorse : 
 
 " No, you must first hear the whole story, you must 
 know that at that time I was obliged to leave these 
 parts ; well, when I went, I left behind an iniquitous 
 command. I left strict orders with a low ruffian to put 
 a stop to the marriage between the young fellow and your 
 daughter ; my gold in the hands of that wretch, bribed 
 a treacherous servant of your own. I repeat to you, 
 Ermelinda, I did not order the abduction of Beatrice, 
 and I had not the remotest idea of such a project, but 
 the villain, on whom I imposed that infamous duty, 
 may have had the courage to imagine this enormity ; 
 in any case I am an impious wretch." 
 
 " No, no, Marco ! for my sake cease this strong lan- 
 guage ; you are accusing yourself too heavily, for he 
 cannot be altogether impious who feels so repentant for 
 his fault. Stormy passions may have driven you out of
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 377 
 
 the right path, out Marco's own heart, I feel sure — I 
 have no doubt of it, vras never really perverted." 
 
 " Oh, my consoling angel ! " — broke in Marco, much 
 affected — " your vrords are a true balsam to me, Erme- 
 linda ! If you had been always at my side, my beacon 
 and tender companion in the hard and stormy path of 
 life, my days would have been calm and innocent, filled 
 with the holy joys of a husband and father ; and, when 
 declining age arrives, the past would not be so heavy 
 and sad with troublous recollections. You do not think 
 me altogether bad ! I thank yon, Ermelinda ; as you tell 
 me so, I will believe also that I could not have entirely 
 corrupted a heart which once burned with the fire 
 lighted by your angelic character, by your immortal 
 virtues. Yes, Ermelinda, I will believe, on your assur- 
 ance, that I am yet more unhappy than criminal." 
 
 The lady hid her face in her hands, and began to 
 weep. 
 
 "I am now here entirely for your sake," continued 
 Marco, with increasing agitation ; "to see if my blood 
 can make any amends, for I am ready and willing to 
 shed it to the last drop. I will search for Beatrice to 
 restore her to you, to make her happy in her wished-for 
 nuptials. I will find Ottorino also, and it behoves me 
 to trace him out, and to give him back myself the bride 
 whose possession I have disputed with him ; I say it 
 behoves me, and I am resolved to afford him this gi'eat 
 joy as an atonement for all the misery I have caused 
 him to suffer, as an amends for my long ingratitnde for 
 so much love and fidelity. I shall have not a moment's 
 peace till I see yon all happy again, and till I have 
 cleared up this mystery of iniquity." 
 
 At this point he stopped for a moment and fixed his 
 eyes on Ermelinda, who had never ceased weeping ; 
 and then pressing his clenched hands together, he con- 
 tinued with violence : " And let the villains tremble 
 who have to answer to me for having caused so many 
 tears. "Woe, woe to them all ! Ermelinda, I tell you, if 
 I had to tear them one by one from the altar, I swear to 
 you by hell "
 
 378 MARCO TISCONTI, 
 
 "No, Marco," interrupted the pious lady, raising her 
 face full of a resolute though timid dignity ; "do not 
 suffer blasphemy to be uttered by Christian lips. How 
 can you hope that God will bless the work of mercy that 
 you propose to yourself, if you undertake it with ven- 
 geance in your heart ? And -what trust do you think I 
 can repose in the deeds of a man who has not God 
 with him ? " 
 
 " You are an angel ! " exclaimed Visconti ; " and I 
 — I am only a miserable wretch. Now, I must be 
 gone ; before dawn I shall be at my castle of Rosate. 
 To-morrow's sun will see you happier. Farewell ! " 
 
 " Farewell," replied Ermelinda ; " may God be with 
 you now and ever, and may He show mercy to us all. 
 Farewell ! " And as she saw him depart, as if now that 
 the necessity had ceased, her mind was unable longer to 
 sustain the effort it had made up to that moment to curb 
 its emotion ; all of a sudden she felt so faint that she was 
 obliged to sink on a couch, whence she languidly listened 
 to the sound of his steps, which, as he passed through the 
 long galleries, became every instant fainter and fainter. 
 When she could hear no more, she rose to her feet and 
 tottered to her apartments ; but, exhausted as she was 
 by the emotion she had undergone, it appeared to her as 
 if the whole affair had been but a dream. 
 
 Visconti, as he went out, found Lupo waiting for him 
 under the portico, and said to him, " Come with me to 
 Rosate." 
 
 The Limontese, having expressed his gratitude for the 
 invitation by a respectful bow, followed him without a 
 word. They both passed through the gate, and hastened 
 across a large portion of the town in the dark, the one 
 in front and the other behind, in profound silence, till 
 having arrived at Marco's house they mounted their 
 horses and galloped off to Rosate. 
 
 But another man, unknown to them, was galloping off 
 a little in advance of them on the same road; this was 
 a courier sent off at full speed to Pelagrua by Lodrisio, 
 who had suddenly heard of the arrival of Marco at 
 Milan.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 379 
 
 Our two travellers arrived before the walls of the 
 Castle of Rosate about daybreak. Marco gave the ac- 
 customed signal, when the di-awbridge was lowered, the 
 gates thrown open, and he passed with Lupo beneath 
 the barbican ; but neither there, nor in the courtyard 
 beyond, was a living soul to be seen. 
 
 The porter, soon recognizing the lord of the castle, 
 was running off to ring a bell to announce his arrival, 
 but was stopped by a sign from him, and was at once 
 questioned about Pelagrua. 
 
 " He went out this very night," replied the porter, 
 "and he has not yet returned; but," he added, "a 
 courier from Milan arrived an hour ago with a letter for 
 him, which was understood to be of urgent importance." 
 
 " Where is the courier ?" 
 
 " In my lodge here, and swearing like a heretic at the 
 delay." 
 
 " Send him at once to me, in the red room. If Pela- 
 grua should return in the meantime, let him in, but let 
 no one go out afterwards without my orders. Do you 
 understand ? ' ' 
 
 " What, not even the seneschal, after his return ? " 
 
 "No, no one whatever." 
 
 " Sir, your commands shall be obeyed to the letter." 
 
 Marco, crossing a large courtyard, went into the room 
 he had pointed out, in order to wait for the courier. A 
 few minutes afterwards the man appeared, and Marco, 
 meeting him, grasped him by the arm, and said, " Hand 
 me that letter." 
 
 The worthy man, who in the dim light of the chamber 
 did not recognize at first who it was who was speaking 
 to him and treating him in that fashion, struggled to 
 free his arm from Marco's clutch, and having at last 
 extricated himself, answered, " My orders are, not to 
 give it up, except into the seneschal's own hands." 
 
 Visconti, however, grasping him again still more 
 firaily, drew him near a window, and replied with a 
 terrible voice, " Hand me that letter." 
 
 By the light that came from the window, the poor 
 man recognized the features of the famous captain, and
 
 380 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 witli pale face and trembling voice, he replied, " Forgive 
 me, I did not know you. My master certainly — but 
 you, you are the master — here, here is the letter," and 
 he drew it from his breast, and gave it to him. 
 
 Marco opened it, and glancing eagerly over it, saw 
 that it had no signature. He then read the contents, 
 which were as follows : — 
 
 " You unhung scoundrel, — by this time you ought to 
 have done the deed as we arranged the other day. 
 Deuce take you for having delayed so long. A pretty 
 mess you have got into, now that Marco is in Milan. 
 Yes, I can tell you he arrived here to-night, and to- 
 morrow he will be down upon you. Look sharp, you 
 scoundrel. I hope this letter will put you on your 
 mettle. Destroy every trace of the deed — remove every 
 proof of it — look out in all directions ; remember, you 
 wretch, that your life depends on it." 
 
 Visconti was struck with horror. His hair stood on 
 end, and a cold shudder ran through his veins. He 
 went up to the courier and shaking his fist in his face, 
 shouted to him, " Who gave you this letter ? " 
 
 The question was spoken in a voice that admitted of 
 no hesitating answer. So the man, throwing all thought 
 of caution to the winds, replied at once, " I had it from 
 Lodrisio." 
 
 "If you wish to leave this place alive," continued 
 Marco, " tell me what sort of dealings has he with my 
 seneschal ? " 
 
 But the other, half stupefied by fear, looked at his 
 questioner's face with staring eyes, and answered not a 
 word. 
 
 " Do you know ? " inquired Marco, in a still louder 
 voice, " do you know anything of the contents of the 
 letter which you have brought here ? " 
 
 The courier in his fright and bewilderment could not 
 utter a word. 
 
 " Do you know, you cowardly rogue ? " cried the lord 
 of the castle furiously, shaking him violently by the 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Mercy, mercy ! " he replied at last, as if waking up
 
 MARCO YISCONTI. 381 
 
 from his stupor of alarm ; " I know nothing. I have 
 simply obeyed my master, who said to me, ' Carry this 
 letter to Pelagrua,' and I have brought it. As for the 
 rest, I swear to you on the faith of a Christian, that I 
 am perfectly ignorant. You may kill me, but yon will 
 get nothing out of me, for I know nothing." 
 
 " I will speak to you again presently. In the mean- 
 time beware of quitting this room for a moment." 
 
 So saying Marco hastened to the seneschal's quarters, 
 knocked, and on a maid-servant opening the door, told 
 her that he wished to speak at once to Pelagrua's wife. 
 
 The maid, without knowing who he was, introduced 
 him into a room, where, in a few moments, the sene- 
 schal's wife joined him vnth a child in her arms. 
 
 " Where is your husband ? " asked Visconti in a stern, 
 deep voice, as soon as he saw her. 
 
 The poor woman, alarmed at so suddenly finding her- 
 self in her master's presence, and at hearing herself 
 questioned in this manner, stepped back, clasping the 
 infant to her bosom, and replied, stammering, " He 
 went out last night, but I do not know where." 
 
 " Read this letter," said Marco, giving her Lodrisio's 
 missive, " and explain to me at once the mystery which 
 it implies." 
 
 The woman glanced over the fatal paper in fear and 
 trembling, then falling on her knees before her lord, 
 said, amid a torrent of tears, " Oh, have pity on my 
 wretched husband ! " 
 
 " Quick, tell me, what do those words mean," inter- 
 rupted Marco. 
 
 " I will tell you all I know." 
 
 " Get up and speak at once." 
 
 The poor frightened creature rose to her feet, and 
 sobbing and shaking, began : " I told him so often, 
 I begged and entreated him. God will bear me wit- 
 ness " 
 
 " I ask about Beatrice ! " broke in Marco between his 
 set teeth. " Tell me of her ; is she still alive ? " 
 
 " She is alive ; she has been here more than a month," 
 replied the woman.
 
 382 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 " Alive and here ? " repeated Visconti, breathing again. 
 
 " Yes," continued the seneschal's wife, " yesterday 
 before dark I saw her attendant at a window, from 
 which she often used to let me know by signs how 
 things went on, and what her mistress was in need of ; 
 she let me know she was fairly calm ; the poor thing 
 has been ill for a time." 
 
 " Quick ! take me to her directly, I must see her this 
 moment, I tell you." 
 
 The woman put her infant into the arms of the hand- 
 maid, and said to Marco, " Come with me." 
 
 They went down a staircase, turned to the left under 
 the portico, from thence they entered a courtyard, which 
 they crossed, and found themselves in a long dark pas- 
 sage, whence, after many turnings and windings, they 
 finally came out in another small and solitary court, 
 where the woman, raising her hand towards some win- 
 dows high up in an opposite wall, said, " She is there, 
 in company with her faithful waiting-maid, who was 
 brought here with her." 
 
 " We must go up immediately," said Marco, and was 
 putting his foot on the first step of a staircase which led 
 up to the room ; but suddenly stopping short, he re- 
 mained a moment in thought, and then said : " No, you 
 shall go up alone, I will stay here ; for the sight of a 
 man — the sight of me — cheer her up, tell her to be of 
 good courage, that she will see her mother very soon — 
 and return home. Tell her that I — no, no, do not speak 
 of me, do not mention my name ; tell her everything to 
 make her happy, and promise everything she wishes." 
 
 " But you have really and truly come to deliver her ? " 
 asked the seneschal's wife timidly — " for I could not 
 have the heart to betray the poor creature." 
 
 " Let me die excommunicated, and let my body lie in 
 unconsecrated ground, if I do not speak the truth." 
 
 " Then God bless you," exclaimed the woman, clasp- 
 ing her hands. 
 
 "And now," continued Visconti, "in order to gain 
 time, while you are breaking the good news to her, I 
 will go at once and despatch a messenger to her parents,
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 383 
 
 ■who will be here very soon." Upon this, lie retraced 
 his steps into the principal courtyard, where he found 
 Lupo, and charged him to take the best horse out of the 
 stables, and repair to Milan with what haste he could, 
 to announce to the Count and Countess del Balzo that 
 their daughter was discovered, and to beg them to come 
 immediately to Rosate to see her, and take her home. 
 
 While Marco was engaged on this errand, Pelagrua's 
 wife went up the staircase, and entered a gallery, where, 
 approaching a door through which was the entrance into 
 Beatrice's apartments, she knocked lightly, speaking at 
 the same time. No one answered ; she put her ear to 
 the keyhole, and did not hear a sound in the room ; 
 she knocked louder, called Lauretta, called Beatrice, 
 nobody replied ; she went to a large window, defended 
 by an iron grating which looked into the second room, 
 rapped with her fingers against the glass, looked in, 
 called the waiting-maid and the mistress again and 
 again, but with no result ; she now returned to the door, 
 knocked, shook it, battered it ; but all was in vain. 
 
 The poor thing felt a deathly chill come over her. 
 What could have happened to the prisoners ? She 
 thought of Lodrisio's letter, and shuddered. She 
 thought of Marco, and would have preferred to fall dead 
 on the spot, rather than appear before him with this 
 news. What was she to do ? Hide herself ? Escape ? 
 but where, and how ? Visconti, if he did not soon see 
 her re-appear, woidd fasten his suspicions on her also, 
 and then if her husband returned in the meantime ? 
 She raised her eyes to heaven, ejaculated : " Lord ! I 
 am in Thy hands ; " and then, with the pious resigna- 
 tion of a good soul, she betook herself to the room where 
 she knew Marco was generally to be found when he 
 came to the castle. 
 
 She had just entered the ante-room, when she saw him 
 coming from the portico, returning from having de- 
 spatched Lupo to Milan. Directly he perceived her, he 
 hastened his steps to join her, and as soon as he was near 
 enough to be heard, without speaking too loud, " Well," 
 he asked, anxiously — " have you comforted her ? Did
 
 384 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 you tell lier lier mother would be here in a few hours ? 
 How is she ? What did she say ? " 
 
 The woman, instead of replying, covered her face with 
 both her hands, and burst into tears. 
 
 " Oh, my God ! " cried Marco, his expression changing 
 suddenly from tender anxiety to fear and horror. 
 " What has happened ? Tell me this moment — tell me 
 for your life's sake ; " and he caught hold of one of her 
 hands. 
 
 " She is not to be found," answered the seneschal's 
 wife, in a voice stifled, and broken by sobs ; " there is 
 no one in her rooms." 
 
 " Wretches that you are ! Infamous traitors, the 
 whole set of you ! " Marco cried out, like a madman. 
 " But, thank God, you are in my power ! Villains, yes, 
 you are in my power, and blood shall be redeemed by 
 blood." 
 
 While he spoke he struck his forehead with one hand, 
 and with the other grasped as in a vice that of the 
 woman, who, thinking her last hour on earth was come, 
 raised her eyes to heaven with a look of such timid 
 piety, that even a harder heart would have been moved 
 to compassion. 
 
 Visconti was touched, let go her hand, and looked her 
 in the face, while she, lifting up to heaven the hand 
 which still bore the marks of his iron pressure, said, still 
 weeping : " God is my witness ; I am innocent ! " 
 
 "And I believe you," said Marco; "good woman, 
 take courage, you have nothing more to fear from me." 
 But seeing that she continued to cry, he resumed in a 
 more decided and impatient manner. " Be comforted, 
 I say, and tell me quietly all you know." 
 
 The woman somewhat cheered, but still frightened, 
 told of the door which she had found closed, and how 
 she had knocked and called in vain outside. Visconti 
 felt a slight hope that Beatrice might still be in her 
 rooms, and that for some good reason she would neither 
 open the door nor answer. He then remembered the 
 other secret door which opened into the same apartment, 
 the very one by which Lodrisio and Pelagrua had entered
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 385 
 
 some days before, to the great consternation of tlie poor 
 prisoners. He therefore proposed to the seneschal's wife 
 to let her in on that side, and took her there himself by 
 roundabout and secret passages, and telling her he would 
 wait for her outside, pulled a cord connected with some 
 springs that disclosed the door. 
 
 The woman entered, and pushing back the panel, so 
 as to conceal Marco from any person inside, cast her 
 eyes round the room, which was Beatrice's ordinary 
 sleeping room, but saw no one ; then she passed through 
 three or four more in succession, calling out and inquir- 
 ing as she went, but with no better success. It may 
 well be conceived what a state poor Marco was in all 
 this time. 
 
 In a few minutes the woman returned to the door be- 
 hind which she had left him, and said in a low voice, 
 " There is no one." 
 
 He now came forward, and looked round the room 
 with a diflB.dence and consternation scarcely to be ima- 
 gined. He was treading that floor so often pressed by 
 Beatrice's feet ; his hand rested on the fumitvire that she 
 had handled ; he breathed the air she had breathed ; in 
 fact her presence seemed to brood over everything. 
 Every moment he thought he heard her sigh, and the 
 faint sounds of her voice issuing from some secret 
 hiding place, seemed to appeal to him for pity and 
 assistance. 
 
 Hard by the partition where the door opened, was a 
 splendid bed with embroidered curtains, which had not 
 been slept in, as the sheets were neatly turned back, and 
 the surface of the bed was unruffled, save that one side 
 preserved the impression of some person having leant 
 against it. Beatrice had never dared to get into bed or 
 lie down, ever since she discovered she was no longer 
 secure, even in the privacy of her apartments, but had 
 spent each night, ill as she was, without taking off her 
 clothes, reclining in an armchair, leaning her feeble 
 frame against the bed, and languidly supporting her head 
 on her elbow. 
 
 On a small table, in the centre of the room, was a 
 C C
 
 386 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 lamp still aliglit, but which, its oil being almost spent, 
 only sent up a thin thread of flame along a wick all but 
 reduced to a white ash. Marco fixed his eyes upon it, 
 and in that moment of excitement, yielding to the fancies 
 peculiar to that age, so prone to omens and empty 
 auguries, imagined that that slender flamelet was an 
 image, or so to speak, a symbol of Beatrice's life, and 
 under the influence of a superstitious terror, drew the 
 seneschal's wife gently away, for fear by agitating the 
 air she might put it out. 
 
 Near the lamp lay a Bible open at the thirty-fourth 
 chapter of Jeremiah ; the leaves seemed bathed with 
 fresh tears, and at the third, fourth, and fifth verses, the 
 following words had been underscored : ^ " Non effugies 
 de manu ejus, sed in comprehensione capieris — Attamen 
 audi verbum Domini — Haec dicit Dominus ad te. Non 
 moi-ieris in gladio — sed in pace morieris ; et vae Domine ! 
 plangent te." 
 
 Marco, on reading this, seemed to feel an almost 
 supernatural certainty that he should find the unhappy 
 maiden still alive. Those words of the prophet that she 
 had underlined, and from which she must have derived 
 consolation, seemed to his excited imagination a clear 
 prediction as to her fate ; so he turned to the woman 
 and said, " Be of good cheer, for 1 am sure Beatrice is 
 not dead." 
 
 The wife of the seneschal looked him in the face, and 
 without daring to ask what warrant he had for the 
 confidence he expressed, not only by his words but even 
 more by his looks, followed him into the second room, 
 which he entered still pursuing his researches. Here 
 they found evident marks of violence and of desperate 
 resistance. They saw a small table overturned, and 
 fragments of vases and cups on the floor that must have 
 been upon it. The bed was all in confusion, the bcd- 
 
 ' " And thou shalt not escape out of his hand, but shall surely be 
 taken, and delivered into bis hand : . . . . yet hear the word of the 
 
 Lord Thus saith the Loi'd of thee, Thou shalt not die by the 
 
 sword, but thou shalt die in peace .... and they will lament thee, 
 saying, Ah, lord ! "
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 387 
 
 clothes pulled off and thrown on the floor ; one of the 
 curtains torn from top to bottom ; the head of the bed 
 wrenched from the wall and twisted on one side ; and 
 they saw that the waiting-maid, in resisting her assail- 
 ants, had clung to one of the pillars of the tester, and 
 had been torn from it by main force. 
 
 Marco, having observed all in silence, passed through 
 a third and fourth apartment, till he came to the door 
 opening into the corridor, shook it, and finding it was 
 barred on the inside, inferred that the prisoners had not 
 been carried off through it, but through the secret door 
 mentioned above ; so he and his companion retraced 
 their steps through the rooms, and went out by the same 
 way through which they had come in. It so happened, 
 however, that in a certain dark passage the woman's 
 foot came in contact with a soft flimsy substance, which, 
 on bringing it to the light, she saw was a veil, all 
 rumpled and crushed ; this was a fresh argument in 
 favour of Yisconti's opinion, that the girl had passed in 
 that direction. But to resume our story. 
 
 This passage, after conducting them through other 
 long and tortuous corridors, came out at last, after end- 
 less windings, into an unused little court full of nettles 
 and weeds, which was reached by a corkscrew staircase. 
 In this courtyard there were two doors. One, opening 
 iato a vaulted passage, which crossed an immense glacis 
 and a tlùck wall, and then led to the outside of the 
 castle under a portcullis and over a drawbridge of its 
 own, was a postern gate ; the other was lower down, 
 entirely made of iron, closed with great heavy bolts and 
 bars, and almost concealed between two enormous bar- 
 bicans built of dark coloured stone. This opened upon 
 the interior of the fortress, and gave access to an infinity 
 of subterranean passages, underground rooms and case- 
 mates, through an endless labyrinth of intricate lanes 
 and passages mixed and interlaced La a hundred direc- 
 tions, and burrowiag through the whole of the basement 
 of the enormous edifice. 
 
 Marco, having sent for the feudal judge of his Seig- 
 neury, who acted ia his name in the castle and its
 
 3S8 MARCO TISCONTI. 
 
 dependencies, ordered him to interrogate a family who 
 lived in one of the bastions not far from the above- 
 mentioned courtyard. He made out that one night 
 thei'e had been heard by them certain stifled cries and 
 groans. Not being able to make out whether the 
 prisoners had been carried out through the postern or 
 concealed in the basement of the castle, Marco ordered 
 the doors of the subterranean passages to be forced as 
 the keys were not forthcoming, and at the same time he 
 sent out some discreet persons to scour the country and 
 get what information they could, with express directions 
 not to make Pelagrua suspect they were in search of 
 him, but if they should find him, to bring him back to 
 the castle, if necessary, by main force. 
 
 The party that were ordered to search the interior of 
 the castle, after breaking down the door with levers and 
 crowbars, found themselves in a dark passage, whence 
 they severally went off in different directions. Each 
 party, however, met with new obstacles at every step. 
 The entrance to every corridor was closed with thick 
 iron bars, and every room on either side was blocked 
 with massive furniture and heavy iron chests. Marco 
 himself flew here and there, inspiriting the workers, and 
 lending a hand at smashing doors and breaking open 
 hinges and bars — but all in vain. After forcing their 
 way through passage after passage, door after door, and 
 searching endless empty rooms, they still found endless 
 passages yet to be traversed, endless rooms to be 
 searched.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 389 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THIS tedious labour having gone on for some hours, 
 one of the men thought he heard a distant voice, as 
 if from underground. Marco at once ordered everyone 
 to be silent, and they listened with all their ears. A 
 little while after the voice was heard again ; it was a 
 prolonged, shrill cry, as of grief, which seemed to come 
 from a vault beneath the basement of one of the towers. 
 All immediately set to work again, spurred on by these 
 fresh hopes. In an instant a barrier was broken down, 
 and a door beaten in. Marco went in first to a small 
 room with a taper in his hand, lifted a trap-door on a 
 level with the floor, and went down a winding staircase 
 to the bottom of the tower in question. He was going 
 forward in fear and trembling through a large dark 
 dungeon, when he heard a voice asking for mercy, and 
 discerned in a corner, close to the wall before him, some- 
 thing like a ghost stretching out its arms towards him. 
 On hastening in that direction he distinguished an un- 
 known face, by the Hght of the lamp he bore. 
 
 " It is certainly not Beatrice, it's a man," he cried. It 
 was no other than Tremacoldo. 
 
 The jester soon told them who he was, and how, having 
 ventured into the castle to find out if the Count del 
 Balzo's daughter was concealed there, he had been caught 
 and thrown into that dungeon, whence he never expected 
 to come out alive. But he had no news to tell about 
 Beatrice. 
 
 The bonds were broken and the prisoner soon set at 
 liberty, and Marco, more discouraged than ever, gave 
 orders for the search to continue. After a time a squire 
 appeared, to announce the arrival at the castle of the 
 Count and Countess del Balzo, who were asking eagerly
 
 390 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 for the master. On hearing this, Marco grew pale, took 
 a few steps towards the door, as if on his way to meet 
 his newly aiTived gnests, but then turned back, and with 
 his head sunk on his breast and his arms hanging at his 
 side, he remained for some time leaning against a pillar 
 without moving or speaking. 
 
 At last, from a spot at some distance from where 
 Marco was standing, there was a cry raised by many 
 voices at the same time : " She is here ! she is found ! 
 found ! " All who were there, flinging down their tools, 
 responded with another joyful cry, and rushed off in that 
 direction. The light of a number of waving torches 
 illuminated the dark, vaulted roof of the intricate laby- 
 rinth. 
 
 " Is she alive ? " Marco's voice was heard asking, in 
 the middle of the excited crowd. 
 
 " She is dead," replied a voice from the place to which 
 all were hastening. 
 
 And then a group of persons was seen coming for- 
 ward ; in the centre were two squires carrying reverently 
 in their arms the Count's daughter, whose face was ashy 
 white, her eyes shut, and her head hanging over one 
 shoulder. Lauretta followed her all dishevelled, sup- 
 porting her mistress's head, continually kissing her, and 
 iDathing her with her tears. 
 
 Marco, in whose heart these varying cries of hope and 
 despair were still resounding, when he saw this funereal 
 procession advancing slowly, and by the light of the 
 torches recognized the lovely form and white face of 
 their youthful burden, could not believe it was a real 
 spectacle ; he tried to hope that he was under the fanci- 
 ful illusion of a dream. In order to make sure that he 
 was awake, he stretched out his hands and felt the 
 walls, and the persons of those who passed him ; at last, 
 cleaving the crowd, who made way for him, he approached 
 Beatrice, and laid his hand on her brow. 
 
 The cold thrill that touch sent through him, roused 
 him from the state of stupefaction into which he had 
 fallen. His limbs trembled violently, the blood rushed 
 to his face and swelled the veins of his forehead, from
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 391 
 
 •which the sweat was seen to fall in heavy drops to the 
 ground. 
 
 He thus reached the top of the stairs, side bv side 
 with the unhappy maiden, and emerged into the small 
 courtyard. Here the freshness of the open air and the 
 sight of the sun seemed to turn the current of his 
 thoughts. He remembered Ermelinda, who was ex- 
 pecting him ; he felt she would die of fright and grief 
 were she to see her daughter in that plight too suddenly, 
 and this idea at once brought back his accustomed vigour 
 of mind. He made signs to his attendants to stop, and 
 with a firm voice and so composed a manner as surprised 
 them all, he ordered the lights to be extinguished, the 
 crowd to disperse without noise, and silence to be ob- 
 served as to what they had seen below, while he himself 
 went in front of Lauretta and the bearers of Beatrice 
 into the apartments of the warder's wife. 
 
 Having placed the daughter of the Count on a bed, 
 Marco asked her waiting-maid when her mistress ex- 
 pired. 
 
 " She was alive a very little while ago," replied Lau- 
 retta, in a voice broken with sobs, " and she died in my 
 arms of fright when she heard the prison door broken in, 
 and we both thought they were come to murder us." 
 
 Meanwhile the castle leech, who had been immediately 
 summoned, arrived ; he examined the prostrate form, and 
 held a candle to her lips, and thought he could perceive 
 the flame was stirred by a very slight breath. Lauretta 
 and the seneschal's wife exerted themselves to use every 
 means they could to re\'ive her. By degrees the heart 
 began to beat and the pulse could be felt, and the limbs 
 recovered a portion of vital warmth. But her strength 
 had been consumed by a long course of suffering, both of 
 mind and body, and she was now in a burning fever. 
 Would she live to see the morrow ? 
 
 Marco, who had been almost beside himself at the un- 
 expected joy of finding that she was still alive, now 
 dropped his head in despair, and said to himself, " Here 
 is the fulfilment of the prophet's words," and then with 
 the air of one who has nothing more to hope or fear in
 
 392 MARCO TISCONTI. 
 
 this world, approached the wife of Pelagrua, and ques- 
 tioned her about Ottorino. 
 
 The woman who, from certain expressions let drop by 
 Lodrisio in her presence, suspected that Beatrice's hus- 
 band was shut up in the castle of Binasco, communicated 
 her suspicions to Marco, who at once determined to put 
 himself on Ottorino's track. So he left the sick girl's 
 chamber, thinking that it would be better for her to be 
 left alone with her maid, so that as soon as she recovered 
 her senses, which were now fast returning, she might 
 first rest her eyes on none other but that beloved and 
 faithful countenance. 
 
 "Now go and call Beatrice's mother," he then said to 
 the seneschal's wife, " and bid her pray, and pray also for 
 me." 
 
 So saying, he hurried out of the courtyard, left some 
 orders with the judge of the locality, and rode across the 
 drawbridge, which was immediately raised behind him. 
 
 The room into which Beatrice had been carried looked 
 out on an esplanade in front of the eastern face of the 
 castle. The sun, which was now high, poured its rays 
 in through a window opposite the bed where she lay and 
 threw a bright glow over her face, which only rendered 
 its deathly pallor more apparent. On first coming to 
 herself the young girl opened her eyes and immediately 
 closed them again, raising her hand to keep the light 
 from her face, as it caused her much discomfort from 
 the long hours she had spent in the dark dungeon from 
 whence she had so lately been rescued. 
 
 The damsel closed the shutters immediately, and .then 
 returned to her seat by her mistress's side, and embraced 
 her, weeping and calling her by her name. She seemed 
 to hear these sobs, and recognize this voice, and opening 
 her eyes again she gazed on the girl for some time as if 
 bewildered, and then said, " Is it you, Lauretta ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is I. Don't be afraid any more ; we are free. 
 Be of good cheer." 
 
 But she, who did not take in the sense of these words, 
 asked timidly, " Where have those wretches gone ? Have 
 they yet broken into the prison ? I heard their shouts,
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 393 
 
 and felt the blows of their daggers. Oh, tell me, they 
 have not killed me yet ! I thought I was dead, and they 
 were carrying me to be buried among so many people 
 and in a blaze of torchlight. It was night, and now it 
 is day again all at once. Where are we now ? " 
 
 " We are in the apartments of our good friend here, 
 the seneschal's wife ; but I tell you, we are free, and it 
 was Marco himself who came " 
 
 The mention of that terrible name was like the touch 
 of burning iron to rouse a fainting person. Beatrice 
 struggled to sit up in bed, and said, " Oh, let us escape ! 
 hide me, save me, for mercy's sake ! " 
 
 " Oh, no ! try and be calm. Marco is not here, and 
 you may be sure that no one shall enter this room but 
 those you wish. We are free, I say again, and do you 
 know the good news I have to tell you ? Your mother 
 has arrived." 
 
 " My mother ? " 
 
 " Tes, your mothei", and as soon as you are recovered 
 sufficiently to bear the journey, we shall return home 
 with her." 
 
 " Oh ! you are not deceiving me again ! Don't you 
 remember how often you have told me that she would 
 come ? and then " 
 
 " But now she is here, I tell you she is here, and you 
 will see her directly." 
 
 " No, dear girl, your kindness is cruel ; no, I shall 
 never see her again. I have prayed God so often for 
 this favour, with so many tears and such earnestness ! 
 He has never been willing to hear me, and now it would 
 be too late." 
 
 " Oh, my child ! " cried Ermelinda at this moment, in 
 a voice almost exhausted with anguish. She had been 
 detained in the next room by the doctor, for fear of the 
 first shock of joy having too great an effect on the 
 weakened strength of the invalid ; but she had heard 
 eveiy word, and being no longer able to restrain her 
 loving impulses, now threw herself into her daughter's 
 arms. 
 
 Beatrice leant her head on her mother's shoulder, and
 
 394 MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 thus they remained pressed to each other for a long time 
 in silence. 
 
 Ermelinda was the first to withdraw from that tender, 
 but sad embrace ; and laying her hand gently on her 
 child's head, she said to her : " Now you must rest — you 
 see, I am with you, never to leave you again ; we will 
 be always together, always, always ; my poor, precious 
 Beatrice ! All your troubles are at an end, you must 
 only think now of happiness, think of youx mother, who 
 is with you, and who will never leave your side." 
 
 Beatrice obeyed, and laid her head for a moment on 
 the pillows ; but then, unable to control herself, she 
 raised it quickly, and lifting up her arms again, she en- 
 twined them round her mother's neck ; and as the lady 
 gently resisted, making a sign to her in some alarm to 
 desist, the daughter said : " No, let me satisfy the long- 
 ing of so many sorrovsrful days and nights ; let me en- 
 joy this consolation, let me forget myself in a delight 
 which may be the last of my life." 
 
 " I implore you to be calm ; so much emotion — so 
 weak as you are — " 
 
 " Oh, no," replied Beatrice; "believe me, nothing but 
 good can come of it, it soothes me to be with you, let 
 me be ; " and pressing her, and kissing her face, and 
 bathing it vnth hot tears, she did nothing but repeat, 
 wdth loving murmurs : " Oh, my mother ! my dear 
 mother ! " 
 
 Ermelinda, overcome by those feelings which overrule 
 everything, let herself be wrapped in her daughter's arms, 
 and weeping also herself, gave her back, tenderly, the 
 kisses and caresses she received from her. It was a 
 sad scene, but also a comforting one, for it was a 
 peaceful and almost a sacred sight to see the two poor 
 creatures mingle their tears together in never-ending 
 embraces and tender expressions of love, and amid all 
 this to hear them describe their long misery during the 
 time of their separation. 
 
 " Do you know that your father is here also ? " said 
 Ermelinda, when she was calm enough to be able to 
 speak.
 
 MAECO TISCONTI. 396 
 
 " Wh.j does lie not come in ? " asked the girl, her 
 face lit up with a happy smile at the prospect of a new 
 
 The Count was summoned, and he entered with 
 mingled feelings of emotion and fear. But when he 
 saw his daughter, so emaciated and so weakened, take 
 one arm from her mother's neck and extend it affec- 
 tionately towards him, his fears were conquered by his 
 love, and no other feelings than those of a father re- 
 mained in him. He ran to her, and embracing her, 
 said tenderly : " Tou are ill, my child." 
 
 " Oh, no ! now that I am with my dear parents, I am 
 well, only too well — but Ottorino ? " 
 
 The Count screwed up his lips, as if he was taking a 
 bitter medicine, and could not prevent himself from 
 letting these words escape him : " Oh, for God's sake, 
 don't speak about him here in this place ! " 
 
 " Is he not my husband ? " returned the girl, with a 
 gesture that savoured somewhat of resentment ; then 
 turning to her mother with increased tenderness, she 
 said : " Is he alive ? can I hope to see him ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! God has preserved him to us," answered 
 Ermelinda. " From what the seneschal's wife tells me, 
 he must be at Binasco ; and Marco himself has gone 
 from here to seek for him, and bring him here as soon 
 as he has found him." 
 
 " Marco ! " exclaimed with one voice both father and 
 daughter, both startled by surprise and terror, though 
 from different causes. 
 
 " Yes, Marco Visconti," repeated the lady ; and then 
 she began to give an account of the interview she had 
 had with him the night before ; she exonerated Visconti 
 from every fault of which he appeared to be guilty ; she 
 spoke of the intense grief he felt for his previous share 
 in the plot against the marriage. She told of his reso- 
 lution to make amends, even at the cost of his own life ; 
 she described his increased friendliness towards Ottorino, 
 and did not even refrain from owning his love to Beatrice, 
 now that that love, purified by remorse and repentance, 
 had changed into an anxious desire for her welfare, and
 
 396 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 last of all she spoke not so much in commendation as in 
 extenuation of the man, in order to remove any shade 
 of suspicion, every trace of rancour, in the mind of her 
 husband as well as in that of her daughter. 
 
 The latter, who had begun to listen with tremulous 
 anxiety, raised her eyes to heaven at the end of her 
 mother's speech, and clasping her hands together, ex- 
 claimed, " May Grod forgive him ! " Then turning again 
 to her mother, she said, " Did you tell me that he has 
 gone to seek for Ottorino ? Do you really believe that 
 my husband will get here in time to see me ? " 
 
 " Oh, do not speak in that way, my child," exclaimed 
 Erm elinda, in a tenderly reproachful voice, " my dearest, 
 life and death are in the hands of a merciful Grod — He 
 
 will not allow — in pity to us " and then she was 
 
 silent. 
 
 Beatrice took her mother's hand and kissed it ; the 
 one ventured not to ask, nor the other to utter words of 
 hope — a hope that neither of them really felt. 
 
 During the whole of that day the malady continued 
 to take a firmer hold of that form, which was too weak 
 and broken to stand against it. 
 
 The girl, obedient to the orders of the physician, en- 
 forced on her by Ermelinda's still more urgent injunc- 
 tions, lay in perfect silence and stillness, contenting her- 
 self with gazing fixedly on her beloved mother, who 
 was sitting by the bedside, and following her with her 
 eyes whenever anything required her to change her 
 position. 
 
 Lauretta also was seated at the foot of the bed — that 
 faithful attendant, who, although entreated by everyone, 
 including Beatrice, refused absolutely to leave the room 
 to snatch a few moments of repose, of which she must 
 have been sorely in need after the trying vigils of the 
 preceding nights. She was relating at intervals in sub- 
 dued tones to the lady, the history of the miseries that 
 she had suffered, together with her young mistress, from 
 the time that they had been taken to Kosate, down to 
 that very moment. She gave her an account of the 
 falsehoods and the threats which had been used to make
 
 MARCO TISCONTI. 397 
 
 Beatrice renounce her allegiance to her husband, to in- 
 duce her to give him up, and to look with a favourable 
 eye on that terrible man, whom they both supposed was 
 the author of all that persecution. Nor was she silent 
 about the kindness shown to them by the seneschal's 
 wife, who, as far as the difficulties of the situation and 
 the constant suspicions of her husband allowed, had lost 
 no opportunity of offering them prudent advice and 
 every kind of consolation. Ermelinda, deeply moved 
 by this recital, cast from time to time a compassionate 
 look on her daughter, who had so cruelly suffered. 
 She, on her part, perceiving clearly the subject of the 
 conversation, responded to these glances with a loving 
 smile. 
 
 But the repose of the sick chamber was disturbed at 
 times by distant noises in the castle. Beatrice listened 
 intently ; a sHght flush suffused her cheeks, and she 
 anxiously asked, " Is he come ? " 
 
 The mother immediately left the room, but soon re- 
 turned with a negative reply, at the same time adding 
 a few words of hope and encouragement. 
 
 Towards evening the invalid, who felt continually 
 getting weaker, asked for a confessor, and after a long 
 interview with an old Benedictine friar, who was called 
 in to assist her, she again expressed a wish to see her 
 parents. 
 
 " Listen, my daughter," said the priest to her; " Ot- 
 torino is not here, but we expect him at daybreak." 
 
 At this she appeared much agitated, and exclaimed, 
 " Ottorino, my husband, my dear husband ! Would it 
 had pleased Grod to gi^ant me the unspeakable favour to 
 be permitted to see him before I die." 
 
 " Come, my child," said the pious monk, " resign 
 him to Him who gave him to you, and adore the eternal 
 dispensations of justice and mercy ; so will He vouch- 
 safe to accept this sacrifice of your heart as an atone- 
 ment for your sins, and for your soul's health." 
 
 The poor girl clasped her hands and raised her eyes 
 to heaven, in an attitude of deep but mournful resigna- 
 tion ; but Ermelinda, laying her hand gently on her
 
 398 MARCO YISCONTI, 
 
 head, exclaimed, " Oh, my daughter ! my beloved 
 daughter ! have I then to lose you ? What is there left 
 to me in this world except you ? You, who were my 
 sole consolation and support ! " 
 
 The girl drooped her head and wept. In a few mo- 
 ments she replied in a voice choked with sobs : " Conso- 
 lation did you say ? And what consolation did you ever 
 receive from this poor wretched creature, who, by her 
 perversity, has sown so many thorns in the path of your 
 life ? Oh, my beloved mother ! I do not ask you to 
 forgive me, for I know you have already forgiven me 
 everything. And you, too, my father, have given me 
 3'our pardon, have you not ? " 
 
 Ermelinda and the Count, choked by their tears, 
 could not utter a word, and all remained some time in 
 silence. Meantime the waiting - maid, after having 
 brought to the invalid a cordial, had thrown herself on 
 a seat by the side of the bed, and overcome by fatigue 
 and trouble, by degrees let her head drop on the quilt 
 and fell fast asleep. Beatrice, who perceived this, 
 without moving her hand, which was on her damsel's 
 shoulder, beckoned with the other to the bystanders to 
 keep very quiet and make no noise ; she herself, from 
 time to time, exchanged a few words with the confessor 
 in a very low voice, for indeed she was nearly exhausted. 
 The pious monk, touched by her kind consideration, 
 followed her example. At first she had her sheets and 
 pillows constantly arranged ; at one time she wanted to 
 be raised, at another to be turned round, as is customary 
 with invalids who cannot find rest in any attitude ; but 
 now she forced herself to remain quiet in the position 
 she was in, scarcely daring to draw her breath, for fear of 
 waking her beloved attendant, on whose countenance 
 she looked with an expression of the most affectionate 
 kindness. 
 
 When Lauretta awoke, the dawn was breaking, and 
 the flame of the lamp at the bedside was growing pale 
 beneath the first beams of day, which appeared through 
 the window. 
 
 The damsel looked round with astonished eyes, not
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 399 
 
 knowing wliere she was, till she met Beatrice's kind 
 glance and smile. " You are with me," said the yonng 
 mistress — "with your own dear Beatrice." Lauretta 
 looked down, sorry and ashamed that her physical 
 fatigue should have made her forget, even for a short 
 time, her beloved lady in her extreme illness. But the 
 latter, guessing this feeling, encouraged her by asking 
 her to perform some slight service for her, and by grate- 
 fully receiving those attentions which the maiden, with 
 redoubled anxiety, offered her. 
 
 Towards sunrise she said she felt tired, and wished to 
 rest. She lay back, closed her eyes, and had a short 
 sleep — a weary and troubled sleep. All of a sudden she 
 started up, raised her head from the pillows, and then 
 let it fall again ; a cold perspiration covered her face, she 
 ceased to breathe, and her pulse could not be felt ; there 
 was a general fearful belief that she was gone. It was, 
 however, but a passing failure of the heart — a swoon, 
 from which she soon recovered, and looked round on her 
 beloved ones, w^ho were in despair. " Why are you 
 weeping ? " she said, " for I am still with you." 
 
 They all came round her, and she, after having re- 
 covered her breath, turned to her mother and continued : 
 " However, I feel that life is ebbing, and my hour is 
 near ; now be calm, and listen to my last words, the last 
 wish of my soul." 
 
 She drew a ring from her finger and gave it to her 
 mother, saying, " This was given to me by Ottorino in 
 your presence ; the symbol of a union that is to last but 
 for a short time on this earth, but which will be renewed 
 in paradise. If you ever see him again, put it into his 
 hands, for him to show me on some future day. And 
 tell him at the same time, that at this solemn moment, 
 expecting soon to find myself alone in my Creator's 
 hands, I ask of him one last petition, in the name of the 
 love he has borne me, and for the sake of his and my 
 eternal salvation, I implore him never to seek to revenge 
 on any one the sorrows I have suffered here." 
 
 She rested for a moment, and then pointing to the 
 damsel at the foot of the bed : "I need not commend
 
 400 MARCO TISCONTI. 
 
 her to yon ; yon have always loved her ; but after all 
 she has well suffered for my sake, and as she has acted 
 a sister's part to me, I hope that she may be to you as a 
 daughter. She will be more obedient than — the one — 
 you have loved too much." And turning to Lauretta: 
 " Will you promise me ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, indeed," was the answer, " I will never leave 
 them as long as I live ; I will always remain with them." 
 
 She now felt her strength fail, and was silent. She 
 remained some time as if dozing, and then opening her 
 eyes slowly, she looked at the window, through which 
 the sun was shining, and murmured to herself, " Oh, my 
 dear mountains ! " 
 
 The mother drew nearer her, and she, speaking with 
 difficulty and weakness, uttered these words : " There, in 
 the churchyard at Limonta, in the little chapel — where 
 my poor brother lies ; where we have prayed and wept 
 together so often — let me rest near him. You can come, 
 then, and weep and pray for us both. I shall have the 
 goodwill of those dear people. Remember me to them 
 all, and poor Marta, who also has a child in that holy 
 place." 
 
 The weeping mother answered more by signs than by 
 words, that all her wishes should be fulfilled. Then the 
 monk, seeing that there only remained to the sufferer a 
 few moments of life, put on his stole, blessed her, and 
 began to repeat over her the prayers for those at the 
 point of death. All present knelt down around the bed, 
 and made the responses amid their sobs. Beatrice her- 
 self appeared to take part in the holy words sometimes 
 by a faint murmur, and sometimes by a slow and devout 
 movement of her head ; her serene countenance bore 
 witness to the inward peace of her pious soul, which 
 amid the pains of death tasted the joys of another life. 
 
 But all at once, the sacred calm reigning in the sick 
 room was disturbed by the sound of agitated steps on 
 the staircase. Every eye turned to the door. The 
 seneschal's wife, rising to her feet, went to meet two 
 persons who now appeared there, and exchanged some 
 words with them. One of the new comers stopped on
 
 MARCO TISCOXTI. 401 
 
 the tLresliold; but tlie other, darting into the room, 
 flung himself on his knees by the bed, pressed and kissed 
 it, and bathed it with his tears. 
 
 ErmeHnda, the Count, and Lauretta, at once recog- 
 nized Ottorino ; the others guessed who he must be. 
 
 The jouth had that moment arrived from the Castle 
 of Binasco, in company with the very man in whose 
 name he had been kept a prisoner there, and who had 
 himself hastened to set him free. 
 
 The dying girl, startled by this sudden noise, opened 
 her eyes languidly, and without being able to see who he 
 was — for he was hidden from her by the bystanders — 
 asked what had happened. 
 
 " Give God the praise ! " exclaimed the confessor with 
 much emotion ; " you accepted from his hands a bitter 
 trial, you accepted it even with resignation ; now accept 
 in the same spirit the joy he vouchsafes to you, that both 
 the joy and the submission may be pleasing in God's 
 sight." 
 
 " Who ? Ottorino ? " said Beatrice, now in the agony 
 of death, and making a last effort to utter his name. 
 
 "Yes; your husband," repeated the priest, and ap- 
 proaching the youth, he made him rise and led him 
 towards her. Beatrice fixed on his face her eyes, shining 
 with a light that was nearly spent, and stretched out 
 one hand, on which he laid his throbbing brow. 
 
 After a moment, the dying one drew her hand gently 
 away and held it before her husband's eyes, pointing at 
 the same time to her mother, and attempting to utter 
 some words distinctly. 
 
 The monk guessed her desire, and said to the youth : 
 " She wishes to tell you of the wedding-ring which she 
 has given to her mother, and which you will receive 
 from her." 
 
 Beatrice's face was lighted up with a smile, at her 
 meaning being understood. 
 
 Then Ermelinda drew the ring from her finger, and 
 gave it to Ottorino, who kissed it and said : "I shall 
 carry it with me to my grave." 
 
 "Your wife has a dying request to make to you," 
 
 DD
 
 402 MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 contirmed fhe priest ; "to the effect that you should lay 
 aside any thought you may have conceived of avenging 
 her. Vengeance belongeth to the Lord." 
 
 She kept her eyes anxiously fixed on the young 
 knight's face. He remained with his head lowered, 
 and answered nothing, but the confessor, taking him by 
 the arm : " Now you will promise," he said, in a grave 
 and stern voice, " you will promise your wife, as she is 
 passing from life to death, from time to eternity; she 
 asks it you as a favour, she imposes it on you as a duty, 
 in the name of that God before whom she is now about 
 to appear." 
 
 " Yes, I promise," answered Ottorino, bursting into 
 an agony of tears. 
 
 Beatrice thanked him with a look of angelic sweetness, 
 which showed clearly that she had nothing left to desire 
 in this world. 
 
 Then the priest signed to those around to kneel down 
 again, and he resumed the interrupted prayers. Once 
 only, during a moment of general silence, the dying girl 
 became aware of a sound of repressed sobs which came 
 from the next room, and looked up at her mother, as if 
 asking the meaning of it ; the latter only bent her head 
 down, not having the heart to utter a name ; but the 
 priest, bending over the dying girl, said in a low voice, 
 " Pray also for him, for him above all ; it is Marco 
 Visconti." 
 
 The saintly Beatrice bowed her head in obedience to 
 this last injunction. She never raised it again, for she 
 was dead.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 403 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 MARCO hnrried from the room followed by Otto- 
 rino, who was deeply agitated, even amid the dire 
 anguish of that fatal hour, by anxiety for the life of his 
 lord. He also felt the necessity of tearing himself away 
 from a spectacle that was more than he could bear, and 
 of setting to work at something that would bring liim 
 to his senses, and restore the equilibrium of his mind, 
 that had been so rudely shaken. 
 
 The great captain, drawing his hand across his face 
 and eyes, as if wishing to drive a dark cloud away which 
 obstructed his vision, strode along the gallery till he 
 came to a turret staircase, stopped for a moment before 
 an open door, doubtful whether to enter or not. But 
 all of a sudden he felt suffocated — that he must be in 
 the open air — and so continued his hurried ascent of the 
 stairs. Higher and higher he went, till he came out on 
 to the leads of a lofty tower ; here he stopped to breathe, 
 and to gaze at the magnificent view set off by the mix- 
 ture of clouds and sunlight, then dropping his head on 
 his breast he folded his arms, and leant against one of 
 the battlements for some time in silence. His eyes were 
 dry and motionless, his face stern and composed ; while 
 on his broad forehead, wrinkled now and again by a 
 kind of spasmodic contraction, the phantoms, so to speak, 
 of the fierce thoughts that filled his soul, seemed to chase 
 one another in swift succession. 
 
 After a while he called to mind his youthful follower, 
 who was standing a httle way off gazing at him in silence, 
 and exclaimed, " Why have you left her ? " 
 
 " She is in her parents' hands," replied Ottorino. 
 
 " True," rejoined Visconti, " and it ill becomes us to 
 stay weeping here, when we ought to be up and doing.
 
 404 MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 Do you go down that staircase ; on the first landing yon 
 will find the marshal's room. ; tell him to send Pelagrua 
 up here, as I wish to ask him a question, and come back 
 with him yourseK, as I must have you here." 
 
 Ottorino seemed to hesitate for a moment, but Marco 
 guessed his thoughts at once. " Do not fear to leave 
 me here alone," he replied. " What remains to me of 
 life is not mine to dispose of, so long as I have wrongs 
 to avenge, so long as a debt of blood remains on my 
 soul. When anguish shall have been paid for with an- 
 guish, then . But no, Marco will never die a 
 
 craven's death, despairing like an infidel." 
 
 The young man departed, and Marco remained with 
 arms folded, awaiting the coming of Pelagrua. 
 
 The latter was then in the castle. We must now tell 
 the story of his departure and subsequent return. 
 
 After the conversation he and Lodrisio had had with 
 Beatrice, the two rascals saw clearly it would be impos- 
 sible to persuade her to acquiesce in any way in their 
 iniquitous design, so, seeing her strength diminish day 
 by day, they resolved to free themselves from her once 
 for all, she being, so far as they were concerned, an un- 
 welcome, not to say dangerous, encumbrance. The 
 seneschal of Rosate, as was understood, the very same 
 night that Marco arrived in Milan, and at the very 
 moment he was conversing with Ermelinda, had shut 
 up Ottorino's bride and her waiting-maid in the dun- 
 geon, where he intended to leave them to die ; he then 
 went to Fallavecchia, a village near Rosate, and stayed 
 there till late in the evening. 
 
 On his return to the castle, little guessing, as may 
 be supposed, the events that had happened in the mean- 
 time, he was taken into custody. Being examined by 
 the marshal, at first he tried to put a good face on the 
 matter, but on hearing that Marco was there, and 
 that Beatrice had been discovered, he gave himself up 
 for lost. 
 
 Two soldiers then seized hold of him and forced him 
 up to the top of the tower. At every step he implored 
 Ottorino,, who was behind him, to help him, and save
 
 MARCO YISCONTI. 405 
 
 him from tlie first outburst of his m.astor's furj. On 
 coming into Marco's presence he fell on his knees, and 
 with his teeth chattering with terror, stammered out a 
 few broken sentences, " Mercy, mercy !— I supposed — I 
 had no bad intentions — I only wanted — but it was Lo- 
 drisio — Lodrisio forced me into it — forgive me, and 1, 
 will tell you, and you will see." 
 
 But Visconti, after casting one glance of rage and 
 abhorrence on the wretched creature, instead of listen- 
 ing to his entreaties, glanced over a bundle of papers 
 which one of the two gendarmes had placed in his hands 
 by the marshal's order, then, looking up, he ordered the 
 men to withdraw, and handing the bundle to Ottorino 
 as it was, he said, " These are your letters which were 
 found in the unhappy gull's room." 
 
 The young man took them, and began examining 
 them. 
 
 Meanwhile Marco again cast his eyes on the seneschal, 
 who lay prostrate before him, groaning and crying for 
 mercy — and giving him a kick on the shoulder, " Get 
 up, you villain ! " he called out in a voice of thunder. 
 The wretch obeyed. At the sight of that countenance, 
 on which there was a strange mixture of abject terror, 
 malice, and ferocity, the Lord of Rosate felt his blood 
 boil. He paced once or twice backward and forward 
 along the leads to calm himself, then stopped close to 
 Pelagrua and began to question him. 
 
 " When was Lodrisio here ? " 
 
 But before there was time for an answer Ottorino 
 came up to Marco, and showing him the letters, ex- 
 claimed furiously, " It is a barefaced and cruel lie ! 
 These letters are not mine." 
 
 Marco snatched the letters from him, and, brandish- 
 ing them in Pelagrua's face, who trembled more than 
 ever at hearing Ottorino's words, asked him, in a voice 
 choked with passion, " Whose are they, then ? " 
 
 " It was," stammered the poor wretch — " it was — to 
 obey you — to do you service." 
 
 Visconti's eyes flashed fire. " Ugh ! you hell-hound ! " 
 he roared like a madman ; and therewith he dealt him
 
 406 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 snch a blow in the face, that he broke his jaw, and then 
 seizing hold of him, he pitched him headlong from the 
 tower, at the foot of which he was fonnd dead the next 
 morning, impaled on one of the spiked posts in the fosse. 
 
 This done, Marco retired to his apartments, and or- 
 dered that no one should follow him, not even Ottorino. 
 Here he remained shut up alone till far into the night, 
 searching in the cabinets round the rooms, examining 
 paper after paper, burning the majority, replacing some, 
 annotating others. He then wrote a number of letters, 
 and made his will, wherein, after providing an ample 
 annuity for Pelagrua's widow, and bequeathing legacies 
 to his squires, pages, and the other members of his 
 immense household, he made Ottorino his heir. At 
 midnight he sent for the monk who had attended Bea- 
 trice, and desired to be shriven by him ; after which he 
 threw himself into an armchair, and slept quietly for 
 about two hours, according to the account given by one 
 of his body servants, who, unperceived by him, had been 
 watching him in silence from an adjoining chamber. 
 When he awoke he called for something to drink, and 
 drank off at one gulp a large beaker of water that was 
 brought him, and then finding it impossible to get to 
 sleep again, and not caring to stay there doing nothing 
 till daybreak, he went out into a gallery and began 
 pacing backwards and forwards like an unquiet spirit, 
 ever intent, amid the silence and darkness of the night, 
 on a feeble light, and a low murmur as of prayer that 
 issued from a chamber opposite. 
 
 Meanwhile, Lodrisio, who was in Milan, agitated by 
 innumerable suspicions, owing to the messenger he had 
 despatched to the Castle of Rosate having failed to re- 
 turn, had sent thither some trusty retainers of his own, 
 who, after a careful investigation of the affair, had in- 
 formed him of all that had happened ; how his letter had 
 fallen into Marco's hands ; how Beatrice had been dis- 
 covered in the dungeons, and was since dead ; how 
 Ottorino had been liberated, and the seneschal interro- 
 gated, and then put to death by Marco's own hand — all 
 had been told him. From tliis he saw clearly that, as
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 407 
 
 all his machinations had been detected, there remained 
 no excuse or subterfuge whereby he could avert the 
 wrath of his terrible chief, whose confidence he had so 
 cruelly and perfidiously abused. The wretch already 
 fancied he saw Marco before him calling him to account 
 with inexorable fury ; and bold and undaunted as he 
 was by nature, being one of the most valiant knights of 
 the age, he lacked the hardihood to face an adversary of 
 that calibre, one who was reputed to be the first lance 
 in Lombardy. Besides, if matters were to come to the 
 ordeal of battle, things would be sure to come out that 
 would stamp him^ with infamy for the rest of his days. 
 
 This miscreant, then, being thus driven to desperation, 
 in order to escape from the punishment due to his last 
 act of treachery, planned and carried out another, still 
 more vile and more abominable than the first. 
 
 He wrote to Azzone, feigning repentance for his 
 former perfidy, and revealed to him all Marco's machi- 
 nations for depriving him of the government, by laying 
 before him the most irrefragable proofs, through an 
 infinity of letters and other documents that were in his 
 hands. He sent the letters to their proper addresses, 
 and left word with his servants, that if Marco came to 
 ask for him, they were to say he had gone to the palace 
 to see the Viceroy on business. This done, he jumped 
 on his horse, galloped through the Porta Giovia, and 
 never dismounted until he was well outside the boun- 
 daries of the Milanese territory. 
 
 Marco, beside himself with rage and grief, seemed to 
 spurn the earth he trod, the morning air he breathed, 
 and the sun which threw its light on his path. He 
 rushed off to Milan breathing blood and vengeance, and 
 deceived by the false intelligence he obtained at Lo- 
 drisio's house, he went straight to the Viceroy's Palace, 
 where the reader will easily guess what kind of welcome 
 awaited him. 
 
 Leaving the attendant whom he had brought with 
 him in an ante-room, he went forward alone, and asked 
 some of the servants about the culprit of whom he was 
 in search.
 
 408 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 " He is in there," replied one of tliem, pointing to a 
 door, and obsequiously running to open it for liim. 
 
 Marco went unsuspiciously on, and passing tlie thres- 
 hold, entered a long room ; but scarcely had he set foot 
 in it, when the door closed behind him with a slam, 
 that sounded like iron, and in an instant there rushed 
 out of various hiding-places six armed men, clad in 
 mail, with helmets on and \asors down, who attacked 
 him from all sides at once. At the first onset they 
 wounded him in the throat and side ; they then threw 
 themselves upon him, one taking him by the shoulders, 
 another round the waist, while a third tried to twist his 
 legs and throw him down. He then felt on his left side 
 for his dagger, but could not find it, as one of his assail- 
 ants had had the presence of mind and dexterity to take 
 it away just at the critical moment. Marco saw that 
 all was over, but determined not to perish without a 
 struggle ; so he clenched his fist, which no one had been 
 able to imprison, and let it fall with such force on a 
 man's head who was just giving him a stab in the 
 breast, that the fellow dropped to the ground like a bull 
 knocked down by a sledge-hammer. The others, how- 
 ever, kept pressing upon him, and dragged him, welter- 
 ing in his blood, to a window looking out on the street ; 
 they then took him up by his arms and legs, and with 
 one mighty effort threw him down on the pavement, 
 where he expired in a few minutes. 
 
 Nothing was talked of for some time in Milan, Lom- 
 bardy, and indeed all over Italy, but the sad end of the 
 renowned captain. The dark story of his unsuccessful 
 love was mingled, as may be supposed, with that of his 
 death. Some people believed, or pretended to believe, 
 in order to curry favour with those in power, whose 
 great object was to cast off the odiuru of that sort of 
 treachery, that Marco himself, having murdered Beatrice 
 in a fit of jealousy, had afterwards in despair stabbed 
 himself with his own hand, and thrown himself out of 
 the palace window. These reports were collected to- 
 gether and handed down by some contemporary scribbler, 
 either deceived himself, or too timid to be a lover of
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 409 
 
 trutli. Azario, more circumspect, says tliat nothing is 
 known for certain as to his fate, and that many things 
 were laid to his charge that were untrue, while much 
 that was true was omitted. 
 
 Beyond Lombardy, however, where the fear of the 
 Visconti did not extend, no one doubted but that Marco 
 had been assassinated by the order of his nephew and 
 his own brothers. Not to mention other authorities, 
 Giovanni Villani, who was intimately acquainted with 
 Marco at Florence, and had often had dealings vnth him 
 over the Lucca affair, says so distinctly, and explains 
 the obscurity and uncertainty of our chronicles in regard 
 thereto, in the following significant words : " The 
 Milanese were much shocked by the miserable death of 
 Messer Marco, but no one dared to speak of it for fear 
 of the consequences." 
 
 In order to make known to our readers what was 
 thought of this awful catastrophe at Lucca at the time, 
 or to speak more accurately, what was thought of it by 
 a Lucchese minstrel, we will subjoin at full length a lay 
 which was sung at a knight's banquet on the day of the 
 miirder. 
 
 LAY ON THE DEATH OF MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 Blood reeks upon the Palace stairs, 
 
 And blood the threshold dyes ; 
 Oh horror ! whence the sight which scares 
 
 The eager anxious eyes 
 Of that vast throng, who press along, 
 
 With looks of wrath and shame, 
 Low mutt'rings fierce, and sullen roar, 
 
 Like some devouring flame ? 
 
 Whence come ye ? hapless ones, declare ! 
 
 Methought — but no — and yet. 
 By the twisted snake on the arms ye bear. 
 
 And the visage nobly set, 
 (Though dark that mien, with gath'ring spleen) 
 
 I mark you from afar. 
 And by unerring signs discern 
 
 That Milanese ye are.
 
 410 MARCO YISCONTI. 
 
 The shudd'ring crowd an instant part, 
 
 And lo ! a soldier there. 
 While rage and anguish till his heart, 
 
 And horror-struck despair — 
 With one hand shows a ghastly sight, 
 
 The other veils his eyes ; 
 For in the dust a murdered knight. 
 
 His corse yet quiv'ring, lies ! 
 
 'Tis Marco — can this form be thine, 
 
 Thou knight of prowess bold, 
 Whose warrior's might and statesman's light 
 
 The factious Guelph controlled ? 
 And through the land thy dauntless hand 
 
 Did countless triumphs gain, 
 Leaving a name of matchless fame 
 
 On Lombardy's wide plain. 
 
 Weep, weep, and mourn with sore lament 
 
 The noble and the brave, 
 His gallant life thus early spent, 
 
 And his untimely grave ; 
 Alas ! the grim, gi'ey cloud of death 
 
 Now o'er his visage lies. 
 To quench the light of valour bright 
 
 Once gleaming in those eyes. 
 
 But hark, once more, a sudden yell 
 
 Bursts from the angry crowd, 
 " The coward act who did it ? Tell 
 
 The miscreant's name aloud. 
 Who dared to raise his traitor's hand ? 
 
 Who dealt the felon blow ? 
 Disgrace and shame they bore his name 
 
 Who laid the great one low. 
 
 " Come close, thou friend in death, speak clear, 
 
 And let thy words be true, 
 Did that brave heart unknown to fear 
 
 Fair lady's love subdue ? 
 Did he who never turned aside 
 
 From his unflinching way, 
 Lay at her feet his might and pride 
 
 As rumours wildly say ? " 
 
 For all reply he bade me mount 
 
 Behind him on his horse, 
 Through wood and glade, by forest shade 
 
 We took our rapid course ;
 
 MARCO YISCONTI. 411 
 
 With breathless speed, still flying fast 
 
 O'er field and lonely plain, 
 Before a castle's gate at last 
 
 He drew the bridle rein. 
 
 The gates fly back, the bridge doth groan 
 
 With harsh and grating sound, 
 Now reared on high, now forward thrown 
 
 Loud clashing on the ground — 
 The hinges creak — the bolts are drawn — 
 
 The chains of iron fall. 
 But ne'er a trace of human face 
 
 Appears in that vast hall. 
 
 Thi'ough porch and gateway, open court. 
 
 And passage long, and drear, 
 By colonnade and balustrade, 
 
 But not a soul is near. 
 No footfall breaks the stillness dread, 
 
 No sound, no voice is there — 
 A hush as of the silent dead 
 
 Holds the sepulchral air. 
 
 * » » ♦ 
 
 In the distance, trembling. 
 
 See yon light so faint. 
 With pale gleam dissembling 
 
 Forms it fain would paint. 
 Darks(jme vaults discov'ring 
 
 With its feeble ray, 
 Where the gloom is hov'ring, 
 
 Still far, far away. 
 
 Scarce through shadows glimm'ring, 
 
 That faint flick'ring light 
 Now falls gently shimm'ring. 
 
 And arrests the sight. 
 For in death reposing 
 
 On an unknown bier, 
 Youth and life deposing, 
 
 A virgin lieth here. 
 
 On that pillow rigid 
 
 Rests that cheek so pale, 
 Where, with numb hand frigid. 
 
 Death has spread his veil. 
 Yet in all its glory. 
 
 See that last sweet smile 
 Which o'er her sad story 
 
 Bids us pause awhile.
 
 412 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 See tlian mai'ble whiter 
 
 Her fair neck and throat, 
 "Where, than sunbeams brighter, 
 
 Her long hair doth float. 
 In great masses shining 
 
 To her feet it rolled, 
 Form so lovely twining 
 
 With a web of gold. 
 
 Lo! the lips divided 
 
 Joy divine to hail. 
 The transparent eyelid 
 
 Scarce the sight doth veil. 
 Thus she gently sleeping, 
 
 As an Angel lay, 
 And her watch seemed keeping 
 
 For the dawn of day. 
 
 Spirit who in Heaven, 
 Blest and pure dost dwell. 
 
 If to thee 'tis given 
 This thy mortal shell 
 
 Lovingly to visit — 
 
 But hark, from the distant plain, a sound 
 
 Of solemn dirge and wail. 
 Now nearer seems to float around. 
 
 Borne on the gentle gale. 
 
 Still onwards comes the mournful moan, 
 
 With hollow sound and dumb 
 The bridge resounds, where tread unknown 
 
 The strangers' feet who come. 
 
 And now a light dispels the gloom. 
 
 While slowly, two by two. 
 The black-cowled Monks approach the tomb 
 
 In rev'rent order due. 
 
 Then next, arrayed in mantles rare, 
 
 With heavy step and sad. 
 Six knights the corse of Marco bear 
 
 In bright steel armour clad. 
 
 Within that darksome cell is laid 
 
 The warrior in his pride. 
 The bravest knight, the fairest maid, 
 
 Are resting side by side.
 
 MARCO YISCONTI. 413 
 
 Tliey raised the helm, and o'er his face 
 
 A smile there seemed to play, 
 As if in that dark resting-place, 
 
 He knew she near him lay. 
 
 Conclusion. 
 
 The minstrel of Lucca, either misled by false reports 
 in Tuscany or by the desire to embellish the bare details 
 so as to give more brilliancy to his song, would have us 
 believe that Marco and Beatrice were buried together in 
 the Castle of Rosate. But we, on the best authority, 
 can assure our readers that Visconti was buried with 
 great honours at Milan, in the Church of Santa Maria 
 Maggiore, and that the body of Ottorino's bride was 
 borne to Limonta, according to her last wishes. 
 
 We wish to make this known, so as not to fall under 
 the usual imputations cast upon historians and chroni- 
 clers, namely, that they speak with confidence upon 
 matters which they either know nothing about, or which 
 rest upon very slender authority, while they are alto- 
 gether silent concerning subjects with which they are 
 perfectly well acquainted, or else embellish, amplify, 
 and give an entirely new colouring to them, in fact, 
 making use of all the artifices suggested by rhetoric 
 and often recommended by prudence. But no, gentle 
 readers, we must protest against historians bearing the 
 whole brunt of this accusation, when poets often avail 
 themselves of the same privilege. 
 
 Having made this necessary confession, there seems to 
 be nothing more left to say, as after the death of the 
 man who might be called the hero of the tale, the tale 
 itself ought properly to end. 
 
 However, if we do not weary our readers, we will add 
 a few words as to the other persons who have so long- 
 occupied our attention. And this we do more especially 
 as a tribute to the softer sex, who with their usual gentle- 
 ness of disposition allow themselves to feel a sort of affec- 
 tion for the persons with whom they have been so closely 
 connected for the time being, however unworthy of their 
 attention they may be, impelled thereto rather by their
 
 414 MARCO VISCONTI. 
 
 own tenderness of heart than by the merits of the cha- 
 racters who have drawn it forth. This kindhness, 
 springing from the natural softness of their nature, de- 
 serves its reward, and it is on their account, and to please 
 them, that we gather up the scattered threads of our his- 
 tory. But do not be alarmed, we will not detain you long. 
 
 The Count and Countess del Balzo, with Lauretta, left 
 Rosate the morning after Beatrice's death, on their way 
 to Limonta, whither they conveyed the remains of their 
 cherished daughter. On the way they were rejoined by 
 those of their household who had been left at Milan. 
 
 This party who came from Milan had left it before the 
 dreadful catastrophe of Marco's death, so nothing was 
 heard of it till they reached Leveso, where, having arrived 
 at dusk, they dismounted at an hostelry to pass the night. 
 It was almost impossible to persuade them of the truth 
 of the event, as they had so lately left the city where it 
 was said to have taken place. Lupo and Ambrose were 
 disputing the possibility of the event with the host and 
 some of the villagers, and comparing the hours and dis- 
 tances, when a courier arrived, who, as soon as the fatal 
 news reached Rosate, had started on the track of the Del 
 Balzo family, and had just then rejoined them. 
 
 The new arrival was a faithful servant of Visconti, 
 and confirmed, with many tears, the report of his master's 
 fearful end ; then taking Ermelinda aside, he placed in 
 her hands a letter from Marco, found, as he said, on his 
 master's table. The Countess was overcome with mingled 
 horror and pity, which touched her heart deeply, over- 
 whelmed and lacerated as it was by feelings of maternal 
 anguish. She felt herself shuddering, her sight grew 
 dim, she trembled in every limb, and replacing in her 
 bosom the letter, which at the moment she was unable 
 to open, much less to read, she sank on a chair as if she 
 had lost all consciousness. 
 
 Lupo at once remounted his horse and galloped off 
 to Milan in search of Ottorino, who, in this extremity, 
 might require his services. All were stunned at the 
 news, but compared with the horror and stupefaction of 
 the Count, the wonder of the others was nothing.
 
 MARCO VISCONTI. 415 
 
 And in trnth, to have had any connection with Marco, 
 with the man who was said to have been assassinated by 
 the Lord of Milan in consequence of some conspiracy 
 they had discovered, might easily, at that first moment, 
 have alarmed a more timid man than the Count. 
 
 But Azzone, frightened perhaps at the extent of the 
 plot he had found out, thought it prudent to draw a veil 
 over it, that he might not risk the consequences of such 
 a crime ; so that not only Count del Balzo, not worthy 
 of their consideration on account of his own insignifi- 
 cance, but even Marco's most ardent and powerful sup- 
 porters were allowed to pass freely without molestation 
 of any kind. 
 
 Meanwhile the negotiations went on, which had been 
 on foot for some time, to effect the reconciliation of the 
 Visconti with the Church. The Pope, already disposed 
 to favour the Lord of Milan on account of the late re- 
 sistance he had made to the Bavarian, did not believe, 
 or pretended not to believe, the reports which accused 
 Azzone of being his uncle's murderer, and having ab- 
 solved him and his family from excommunication, he 
 took off the interdict which had weighed so heavily and 
 for so many years on the city and province of Milan. 
 The festivities and rejoicings which this caused were 
 marvellous. The lay lords who had usurped the posses- 
 sions of the clergy restored them to the priests, who were 
 returning from every direction. Among these was the 
 legitimate Abbot of San Ambrogio, Astolfo da Lampug- 
 nano, who, on returning to his convent, from which he 
 had so long been excluded, was reinstated in all his 
 former possessions, Limonta included. On his arrival 
 at Milan he wi'ote a long letter to the parish priest, 
 praising him and all the Limontese for the fideUty they 
 had shown towards their rightful lord, compassionating 
 them for all the vexations they had endured under the 
 usurping abbot, upon whom the usual epithets of schis- 
 matic, heretic, magician, son of a demon, were unspar- 
 ingly heaped ; but what was most important to them, 
 he granted them exemptions and privileges as compen- 
 sation for past evils.
 
 41G MARCO TISCONTI. 
 
 These worthy mountaineers reopened their little 
 Church of St. Bernardo with great solemnity ; the bell, 
 m.aking up for its long silence, rang out and chimed 
 thanksgivings for three successive dtiys and nights with- 
 out intermission, and the men and boys vied with each 
 other in pulling the ropes, climbing up to the roof, and 
 swinging and striking it with bars and stones as they 
 best could. They raised rustic triumphal arches, orga- 
 nized processions, and chanted masses, matins, compline, 
 and vespers, which were quite novelties. Last of all 
 they celebrated a general mass for those who had died 
 during the interdict, after which they all walked two 
 and two, men first, women afterwards, into the church- 
 yard, where they knelt down and went through their 
 rosaries. A pious and serious contrition, a grave and 
 silent joy, could be seen on their faces, so devoutly bent 
 down in prayer. 
 
 Amid so ruany recollections of domestic affliction and 
 individual bereavements, the eyes of these good people 
 were tm-ned from time to time on the little chapel, 
 within which had been placed a few days before, a white 
 tombstone, with a name dear to all engraved upon it. 
 
 Marta, who had been kneeling on the spot of ground 
 that covered the remains of her Arigozzo, rose to depart 
 when she had finished her pi'ayers, but as she passed near 
 the stone in question, she stooped down and kissed it with 
 reverence and affection ; and her example was followed 
 by the falconer's wife and by all the other women of the 
 village in turn — Ermelinda and Lauretta, however, who 
 were still among the congregation, could not bear so 
 great an effort, but returned alone in the evening, going 
 down the mountain paths Avithout being seen, to weep 
 and pray over that grave ; and this became every day 
 the termination of their lonely rambles. 
 
 Lupo took no part in these solemnities ; he had set off 
 with Ottorino for the Holy Land. Now that Beatrice 
 and Marco were dead, the young knight could no longer 
 bear to be beneath his native sky ; to feel that he was 
 near Lodrisio made his blood boil. Gladly would he 
 have sought him out, to measure himself against him in
 
 MARCO YISCO>^TI. 417 
 
 mortal combat ; but he had promised his dying wife 
 that he would not seek for revenge ; that promise 
 being sacred to him, he left his native land in order to 
 keep it. 
 
 On that day another of our acquaintances, Tremacoldo, 
 had arrived at Limonta. He was welcomed by Ermelinda 
 as a near and dear relative, in memory of all that he had 
 done and suffered for her poor Beatrice. 
 
 The festivities being now over, the jester proposed to 
 depart, and the Countess, mindful of her promise, and 
 unable to induce him to accept anything whatever, gave 
 him a letter of recommendation to the Apostolic Legate, 
 Bertrando del Poggetto. With this Tremacoldo repaired 
 to Bologna, and returned with full absolution for the ex- 
 communication he had incurred by following a profession 
 forbidden by the canons. Discarding for ever his cap 
 and bells and his parti-coloured jerkin, he resumed the 
 close hood and the long robe lined with furs ; and from 
 the minstrel he again became the canon. He had, how- 
 ever, imbibed so thorough a love for his late calling, that 
 he could not altogether throw off the old Adam. He 
 could not bear to give up his lute, with which he some- 
 times enlivened the company on occasions of extraor- 
 dinary solemnity, or when he did not wish to disoblige 
 a friend or a superior; always, however, be it under- 
 stood, confining himself to the strictest limits of deco- 
 rum and propriety. But he was, on the whole, a worthy 
 man, and an excellent companion ; he lived to be upwards 
 of eighty ; and what seems incredible, although a canon, 
 and Hving amongst canons, he never had a dispute with 
 any one. 
 
 Two years after these events Ermelinda died at 
 Limonta, lamented by the whole country. Among her 
 possessions there was found, in a cabinet, Marco's last 
 letter, which she had placed there together with a small 
 golden chain. No one knew the secret of the chain ex- 
 cept the wife of the falconer and her daughter Lauretta, 
 and they never revealed it. 
 
 The Count del Balzo lived to a good old age. He 
 witnessed the death of Azzone, and the succession of 
 
 E E
 
 418 MARCO VISCONTI. '. 
 
 Luchino. He even survived Luchino and his successor 
 Giovanni. 
 
 The time came when Marco was spoken of as an his- 
 torical character, a great captain, an extraordinary man. 
 His name was mentioned constantly with reverence and 
 admiration, and the Count even arrived at a stage 
 when he could make capital out of the glorious memory 
 of the hero. His old failing of self- importance, as in- 
 culpable in him as his timidity, took possession of him 
 more than ever in the last years of his life, when times 
 were peaceful. You should then have heard the way he 
 .«poke of Marco ! He had been his adviser, his bosom 
 friend, the life and soul of all his enterprises. 
 
 " If they had only attended to me," he would mutter 
 sometimes in a mysterious manner ; " if they had only 
 attended to me ! But no matter, upon some points it is 
 as well to be silent ; although so many changes have 
 since occurred, it is still more prudent to hold one's 
 tongue," and then he would purse up his mouth and pass 
 his hand over his forehead, as if some great secret must 
 for ever remain locked in his brain. 
 
 And Lodrisio ! I am certain that any I'eader who has 
 a vestige of — what shall I say ? — in short, any reader 
 who is not devoid of human feeling, would like to see 
 him come to a bad end — and I give the reader my word 
 tliat it distracts me to own the truth — but we must try 
 and bear it as best we can, for historical facts cannot be 
 arranged according to one's fancy. So this is what did 
 really happen to the miscreant. 
 
 He wandered about for many years in different parts 
 of Italy, until in 1338, with the help of II Scaligero, he 
 succeeded in collecting together three thousand five 
 hundred knights, a considerable company for that 
 period, besides a good-sized army of infantry. 
 
 "With this army', which was called the Company of 
 Saint George, and which, at eveiy step, was increased 
 by the addition of thieves, freebooters, and marauder.s, 
 he advanced upon the Milanese territory, burning and 
 plundering and spreading desolation everywhere along 
 his line of march. On reaching the vicinity of Para-
 
 MAKCO VISCONTI. 419 
 
 biago he gave battle to Luchino, who was awaiting him 
 there, backed bj all the forces of Milan and her allies. 
 In this famous battle, which took its name from the 
 place where it was fought, he was utterly defeated, and 
 being taken prisoner by his conqueror, he was treated 
 with humanity, a virtue all too rare in those days, and 
 imprisoned with his two sons in the fortress of San 
 Colombano, where he remained a captive till the year 
 1348. And then ? Azzone being dead, and Luchino 
 being dead, he was released by order of the Archbishop 
 Giovainii And then ? 
 
 After having experienced various other \acissitudes 
 he died, in extreme old age, a natural death, at Milan, 
 April 5, 1364. Moreover, he was buried with great 
 pomp, " Magnaliter " as it is called by the chronicler 
 already cited, with a huge display of mourning, and 
 every mark of distinction and honour. 
 
 Bernabò, at that time Lord of Milan, caused the tour- 
 nament to be postponed, which was about to be cele- 
 brated ; and the princes, nobles, and barons, who had 
 come to Milan for the purpose of attending the joust, were 
 obliged to defer their feats of prowess till after Lodrisio's 
 obsequies had been celebrated with due solemnity. 
 
 Such things, 1 repeat, at first sight, might provoke 
 us to an almost ungovernable indignation. However, 
 when we come to reflect more coolly upon them, we 
 recollect that they have been so ordered by a wise 
 Providence, and we become aware that this desire to see 
 everyone rewarded according to his merit in this world, 
 argues impatience, shallowness, and presumption on our 
 part ; worse even than that, by so doing we set ourselves 
 up to be wiser than Him who gave us our understand- 
 ing, and we forget that although it is here that we must 
 start on the race of life, it is only hereafter that we may 
 hope to receive the prize. 
 
 " I returned, and saw wider the sun, that the ra.ce is not to the swift, 
 nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches 
 to men of understanding , nor yet favour to men of skill ; but time aaid 
 chance kappeneth to them all.'' 
 
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