*CHAPTER XIX*
The hitch in the progress of the harvest came ever a little and a littlemore into evidence: the smut darkened on the ear; the whisper of athreatened blight grew from vague to articulate--grew clearer, grewbolder--until, lo!--all in a moment it was a definite voice.
This happened on the morning succeeding Bernardo's visit to the CasaCaprona--a visit of which, it would appear, the Duchess of Milan hadbeen made somehow cognisant.
Bona, on this morning, came into the hall of council, her white handlaid, as she walked, upon the shoulder of Messer Cecco Simonetta, theState Secretary. That light, caressing touch was an arresting one tosome eyes observing it--Ludovico's among the number. Its like, in thatparticular context of confidence and affection, had not been seen formany weeks--never, indeed, since the secretary had taken it upon himselfto caution his mistress on the subject of a perilous fancy. He wouldhave had no wish to balk any whim of hers that turned onself-indulgence. It was this whim of self-renunciation which hadalarmed him. There was a mood which might conceivably vindicate itselfin the sacrifice of a kingdom to a sentiment. Such things had happened;and saints were men. He would put it to her with all humility.
And she had listened and answered icily: 'I thank thee, MesserSecretary. But our faith is commensurate with our purpose, which is tosweep out our house, not pull it down. What then? Dread'st thou to beincluded in the scourings? Fear not. It is no part of our faith toforget our obligations.'
Which was a cruel response; but its hauteur silenced Mr. Secretary. Andthenceforth he served in silence, watching, anxiously enough, theprogress of his lady's infatuation, and feeling at last immenselyrelieved when on this day, her warm palm settled on his shoulder,melting the long frost between them.
She looked rather wistfully into his worn eyes, and smiled a little talewithout words of confidence restored. And he, for his part, spoke of nomatters less commonplace than the State's welfare.
'The Duke will make Christmas with us, Madonna,' he said; 'I haveadvices from him.'
'He will be most welcome,' she answered, and her face coloured with realpleasure. But the next moment it was like snow, and its vision hardcrystals of frost. She had seen the Saint Magistrate advancing toaccost her.
There was a strange look in the boy's eyes as they gazed, unflinchinglynevertheless, into hers--a look mingled of pain and doubt and fortitude.She had said no unkind word to him; yet a frost can nip without wind;and surely here was a plant very sensitive to the human atmosphere. Hequestioned her face a little; then spoke out bold, though low--whileMesser Ludovico, turning papers at the table, was very busy--watching.
'Madonna, wilt thou walk apart? I am fain to crave thy private ear amoment.'
She stood like ice.
'Touching whose shortcomings now?' she asked aloud, and with a littlecold laugh which disdained that implied confidence.
He gazed at her steadily, though in trouble.
'Nay, I spoke of none. It is of moment. Madonna, I entreat thee.'
For an instant the milk of her sweetened to him. He was such a babyafter all. And then she remembered whence he had lately come, and gallflooded her veins--gall not so much of jealousy, perhaps, as ofcontempt. Doubtless, she thought, he could have ventured himself intothat hothouse in the Via Sforza with impunity, since, though spirit hemight be, he was of that uninflammability that his virtue amounted tolittle better than the virtue of sexlessness. She felt almost glad, atlast, to have this excuse for dissociating herself from a cause whichhad always chilled, and had ceased now for some time even to amuse her.
Feel no surprise over the seeming suddenness of her revolt. Apart fromher position, this Duchess of Milan was never anything but a typicalwoman, common-souled, lacking spiritual sensitiveness, leaning to hermasculine peers. Breeding was her business, and motherhood her passion.She took no more jar of offence from the intimate custody of babies,than does a cat in licking open the eyes of its seven-days born. Herrefinements were adventitious, an accident of her condition. She hadfelt it no outrage to her stately loveliness to yield it to Tassino'susings. She had that Madonna-like serenity of face which is theexpression of an inviolable mindlessness; and no impressions other thanphysical could long pervade her. Stupidity is the rarestbeauty-preserver; and it is to be feared that Bona was stupid.
Now, it is to be remembered that Bernardo had not mentioned shortcomingsat all; but her object being to snub rather than answer him, she choseto take refuge in her sex's prerogative of intuition. Dwelling a momentin a rising temper, she suddenly flounced on him.
'If you will seek doubtful company, Messer, you must not cry out to haveyour fervour misread by it.'
He was about to answer; but she stopped him peremptorily.
'Women will be women, good or bad. We cannot promote a civil war inMilan to avenge some pin-prick to thy conscience. Indeed, sir, we wearya little of this precisianism. Is it come to be a sin to laugh, to warmour hands at a fire, to prefer a fried collop to a wafer? You mustforgive us, like the angel that you are. We are human, after all, andpledged to human policies. Our State's before the magistracy. There arethings weightier to discuss than a mischief's naughty word. We cannothear you now.'
She turned away, relenting but a little, though flushed and trembling.
'Come, brother,' she said. 'Shall we not pass to the order of the day?'
Ludovico responded with smooth and smiling alacrity. One could neverhave guessed by his face the consternation which had seized his soul.Yet, so cleverly had he hoodwinked himself, this sudden leap of lightwas near staggering him. Merriment and warmth and fried collops? Thecharge in its utter, its laughable irrelevancy, was, he thought, alittle hard on the saint, seeing how the gist of the new creed lay allin a natural enjoyment of life's bounties. What powder had winged sucha startling shot?--weariness?--disenchantment?--remorseful hankerings,perhaps, after a discarded suet pudding, which, after all, had beeninfinitely more native to this woman's taste than the ethereal souffle,whose frothy prettiness had for the moment appealed to her meat-fedsatiety?
The last, most probably. And, in that case----
His brain, through all the mazes of council, went tracing out a busythread of self-policy. If this were really the end, he must hurry toforeclose on it ere the split widened into a gulf--before ever the firstwhisper of its opening reached Tassino's ears. The time for temporisingwas closed.
'It touches, your Grace,' he purred, 'upon the reception to be accordedthe envoys of Ferrara and Mantua.'
The wind of a fall, like the wind of an avalanche, runs before the bodyof it. Messer Bembo, passing out, amazed, from his rebuff, found inhimself an illustration of this inevitable human truism. All theenvies, spites, and jealousies which his sweetness, under favour, hadkept at bay, seemed now gathered in his path to hustle and insult him.
'Good Master Nature,' mocked one, 'hast ever a collop in thy pocket fora starved woodman?'
'See how he stumbles, missing his leading-strings!' cackled another.
A third knocked off his bonnet.
'Prophesy, who is he that smote thee!' he cried, and ducking, came upelsewhere.
'Ay, prophesy!' thundered a fourth voice; and a fist like a rammercrashed upon the assailant's face, spread-eagling it. The man went downin a welter. Bembo fled to Lanti's arms, feebly imprisoning them.
'Thou thing of bloody passions!' he shrieked. 'Wouldst thou so vindicateme?'
Carlo roared over his shoulder:--
'Help his prophecy, ye vermin, when he's ears to hear; and tell him Iwait to carve them from his head.'
He bore Bembo with him from the hall, as he might carry a mothfluttering on his sleeve. Murmurs rose in his wake, seething andfurious; but he heeded them not. In a deserted court beyond, he shookthe pretty spoil from his arm, not roughly but with an air of madness,and stood breathing like a driven ox.
'What now?' he groaned at last--'what now?'
Then all in a mom
ent the boy was sobbing before him.
'O Carlo! dear Carlo! I would the Duke were returned!'
His grief and helplessness moved the other to a frenzy. His chestheaved, he caught at his throat, struggling vainly for utterance of thefears which had of late been tormenting him without definite reason.Seeing his state, Bernardo sought to propitiate it with a smile thattrembled out of tears.
'Nay, mind me not--a child to cry at a shadow.'
Lanti choked, and found voice at length.
'The Duke? Monstrous! Call'st thou for him? Forget'st Capello? Artchanged indeed.'
'Alas!' cried the boy, 'no change in me. I think only of a more rulingtyranny than mine. Pitiless himself, he made pity sweet in others.I've converted 'em from deeds to words, that's all.'
'The Duke!'
'I begin to see. Thou warned'st me, I remember. The fashion of mepasses, like thy shoe's long beaks. Yesterday they were a span; to-daythey're shrunk by half; to-morrow, mayhap, ye'll trim them from yourfeet and run on goat's hooves.'
'Thou ravest. 'Tis for thee, being Duke-deputy, to trim _us_.'
'Into what? Cherubs or satyrs? Be quick, lest the fashion change whileyou talk.'
'Go to! Thou art the Duke, I say.'
'Well, a fine puppet, and great at righting wrongs. There's Lucia towitness.'
'She's provided for.'
'With bread. O, I am a very Mahomet. If I but nod my head, the cityshall crack and crumble to it.'
'God! What ails thee, boy?'
'Something mortal, I think. A breath withered me just now!'
'A breath? Whose breath?'
'Whose? O Carlo, forgive me! What have I said or done? Look, I'mmyself again. It just fell like a frost in June, killing my youngolives. I had so hung upon it, too--its help and promise. The harvestseemed so certain.'
'Ah! She's thrown you over?'
'Dreams, dreams!' sighed poor little Nathan; 'to live on dreams--a deafman's voices, a blind man's vision. I have seen such things, built suchkingdoms out of dreams. Carlo! what have I done?'
Lanti ground his teeth.
'Done? Proved woman's constancy a dream--that's all.'
He clapped his chest, and looked earnestly at Bembo, and cried in abroken voice:--
'Boy--before God--tell me--thou hast not learned to desire her?'
The child looked up at him, with a pitiful mouth.
'Ah! I know not what you mean; unless it be that pain with which I seeher melt from out my dream when most possessing it.'
'Most? She? She to possess thy dream, thy purpose?' cried Lanti, anddrew back in great emotion.
'She _is_ my purpose,' said the boy--'or _was_, alack!'
'Is and was,' growled the other. 'Well, 'tis true that for the purposeof thy purpose _I_ remain; but then I don't count. What am _I_ tothee?'
'My love, beyond all women.'
'I am? That's much. Now will we do without the Duchess.'
'Alas!'
'Shall we not?'
'She hath so nursed my flock to pasture--the kind ewe-mother. The bellwas about her neck. Now, it seems, she will have neither bell norshepherd, and the flock must stray.'
'Hath she in truth cast thee? On what pretext?'
'Nay, I know not. It seemed the twin-brother of him that once she usedfor loving me.'
'Ay, it is their way. But scorn, for your part, to show caloric as shecools.'
'Alas!'
'Trust me there. What had you said to chill her?'
'Nothing that I know, but to crave her ear a moment.'
'It is the sink of slander in a woman--a pink shell with a dead fishinside. Yet thy whisper might have sweetened it.'
'Stung it rather. Carlo, I know not what to do.'
'Tell me.'
'Shall I, indeed? I fear thee. Wilt thou be gentle?'
'As a lamb.'
'Well, then, I'll tell thee--I am so lost. Carlo, dear, I know wherethe ring is.'
'You do? Do you see how calm I am? Where is it?'
'Beatrice hath it--thy Beatrice.'
'You know that?'
'She sent to tell me--last night. God help me, Carlo, for a credulousfool!'
'You went to her? Well?'
'She would give it me, Carlo--O Carlo! on such a condition!'
'Which if you refused----?'
'It shall be a fatal ring to me, she ended.'
'Shall it?--or to her? Well, that's said. And now, wilt thou go rest alittle, sweetheart, while I think? I cannot think in company.'
'I will go, but not to rest.'
'Pooh! thy Fool shall drug thy folly with his greater.'
'Alas! he's gone.'
'Gone?'
'He too. Nay, blaspheme not. He had his reasons.'
'For what?'
'For leaving me awhile. "My folly starves on thine ambrosia," he said."I would fain feed it a little on human flesh."'
'How long's he gone?'
'Some days.'
'Let him keep out of my way when he returns.'
'I'll not love you if you hurt him.'
'Then I'll not hurt him. Thy love is mine, and thy confidence, lookyou. This ring--speak not a word on it, to Bona or another, till I bidyou.'
'Then I will not.'
'That's good. God rest you, sweetling.'
He watched him go, with frowning eyes; then, no message coming to himfrom the hall, strode off to his own quarters in the palace, and bidedthere all day.
'These women,' was the burden of his fury--'these women--soullessbeasts! To aim at winning heaven by debauching its angel!--there'stheir morality in a nutshell! But I'll send him back there first. SoBeatrice hath the ring! What will she do with it? What shall I with theknowledge? God! if my wits could run with my rage! To forestall her,else----'
His fingers worked, as he tramped, on the jewelled hilt of his poniard.
It was Messer Lanti's misfortune that, in knocking down Bernardo'sassailant, he had defaced, literally as well as symbolically, theescutcheon of a powerful family. The fact was brought to the Duchess'snotice when, shortly after the event, she passed through the hall incompany with her brother-in-law. Hoarse clamour of kinsmen andpartisans greeted her, backed, by way of red evidence, by the conditionof the victim himself.
Her wrath and emotion knew no bounds. She flushed, and stamped, andwept, and in the midst collapsed. It was outrageous that her authorityshould be so defied (though, indeed, it had not been) by the brutecreature of a creature of her lord's. The Duke had never foreseen orintended such an arrogation of his prerogatives by his deputy. Shewould teach this swashbuckler a lesson.
Then she broke down and turned, tearful, almost wringing her hands, toher brother-in-law. Sure never woman was cursed in such a falseposition--impotent and responsible in one. What should she do?
He took her aside.
'These two,' he said, 'are as yet _persona gratae_ with Galeazzo. Atthe same time thou canst not with decency or safety ignore the outrage.Seize and confine Messer Lanti out of harm's way until the Duke'sreturn--just a formal and considerate detention, pending his decision.There's thy wise compromise, sister.'
And so indeed it seemed. But undoubtedly the best wisdom lay in his ownadroit seizure of a fortuitous situation. He had wanted this Lanti outof the way; had foreseen him, as it were, lurking in the thickets farahead through which his policy sought a road. Here was the fineopportunity, and without risk to himself, to ambush the ambuscado, andhave it laid by the heels.
Bona sobbed and fretted, nursing her grievance.
'Why did this angel come to vex us with his heaven? The world, I think,would be very well but for its schooling by saints and prophets.Children grow naughty under inquisition. There, have it as you will,brother; use or abuse me--it is all one. It is my fate to be persecutedthrough my best intentions.'
Ludovico put force on himself to linger a little and soothe her. Hissoul leapt with anxiety to be gone. To instruct Jacopo; to c
ommissionTassino--to loose his long-straining bolt in fact--here was the momentsprung inevitable upon him. He had no choice but to seize it; andthen--
'Your Grace must excuse me,' he said at length, smiling. 'I have to goprepare against a journey.'
'A journey!' she exclaimed, aghast.
'Surely,' he answered mildly. 'The matter is insignificant enough tohave escaped your burdened memory; but smaller souls must hold to theirengagements. My brother Bari and I are to Christmas with the King ofFrance in Tours. We sail from Genoa, whither, in a day or two, I mustride to join him. It is unfortunate, at this pass; but----'
'Go, sir,' she broke in--'go. I see I am to be the scapegoat of allyour policies,' and she hurried from him, weeping.
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