CHAPTER VII.
THE GARDEN OF ST. MICHAEL.
On our way back Ceci was somehow separated from me, whether byaccident or design, I cannot say. I did not quite regret this, as Ihad made up my mind to see as little as possible of him for thefuture, thinking he had repaid himself for his kindness, by theproposals he had made to me. Indeed, I may say I never sought hissociety, although, until he showed his hand, his visits andconversation gave me some pleasure, for notwithstanding his position,he was a well-informed man, who, in the earlier part of his life, musthave seen better days, and perhaps hoped to see them again, if hisplot succeeded. The words he had let drop, to the effect that theMedici would come back, had given me a hint as to what that plot was.It was evident that my old friend was an active member of the Bigi, orGrey Party in Florence, that were then working secretly for therestoration of Lorenzo's sons. It seemed clear too, that the attemptto be made, was to be directed against some very eminent member of theState--perhaps the Gonfaloniere himself, and I began to wonder if itwas not my duty to lay the information I had before the Signory. Icould not, however, reconcile this with my promise of silence, andtherefore my tongue was tied. Still I could not sit tamely by, and seea man murdered in cold blood, and I decided therefore, to remain inFlorence somehow, and if possible avert the crime, although it wouldinterfere, no doubt, with my own business. But one cannot always bethinking of one's self. Perhaps also, though not quite conscious of itthen, I had some idea of again meeting the unknown lady of the galaprocession, in whom, in spite of myself, I felt I was taking too greatan interest.
During the night I had but little sleep, for the affair of the madpartisan of the Medici, and the declaration of war, had roused thecitizens to fever heat, and all night long, crowds thronged thestreets, their hoarse shouts of _Popolo_! _Popolo!_ mingling with theincessant clanging of the war-bell, which itself was loud enough towake the dead. The next day, however, I resolved to take the bull bythe horns, and with a view to fill my purse, determined to presentmyself before La Palisse, and offer him my sword. I sallied out,therefore, finding the streets fairly empty, the all-night indignationmeeting of the Florentines having wearied them a little. Still,however, there were knots of people here and there, all in a more orless excited condition. I was in no particular hurry, and taking alesson from the snail, went at a leisurely pace, and eventuallyreached the headquarters of La Palisse, which were in the Mediceanpalace, in the Via Larga. The courtyard and entrance-hall were full ofsoldiers, and evidently active preparations for the campaign were inprogress, for there was a continuous stream of people going in andout. No one took any notice of me, and holding my cap in one hand, andstraightening the feather on it with the fingers of the other, Iadvanced unquestioned through the crowded rooms. In this manner Iproceeded until I came to a gallery, on one flank of which there was aseries of windows overlooking the street; at the end of the galleryhung a purple curtain, covering, as it happened, an open door. On thecurtain itself was embroidered a crimson shield, bearing the _palle_of the Medici. Before this I was stopped by a young officer, who askedme my business, and I replied it was with La Palisse himself.
"Impossible!" he replied; "you cannot see the General."
"Why not, signore?"
"Tush, man! You look old enough to understand that orders are orders."
"What is it, De Brienne?" a sharp voice called out from within. Theofficer lifted the curtain, and went inside. I was determined to gainan interview with the great man, and had therefore said my businesswas of importance. The leanness of my purse is my excuse for thesubterfuge, which I subsequently regretted, as will be seen furtheron. Shortly after De Brienne came out. "Well, messer--messer----"
"Donati," I said.
"Well, Donati, the General will see you. You may enter."
I accordingly did so, and found myself in the presence of a short,thick-set man, seated at a small table, on which was spread a map,over which he was looking intently. In a corner of the room lay hishelmet and sword, and he himself was in half-mail, wearing a Milanesecorselet, on which was emblazoned the red dragon of his house. As hishead was bent over the paper, I could not at first make out hisfeatures, and remained standing patiently. Suddenly he lifted hisface, and looked at me with a quick "Well--your business, sir?"
I was accustomed to strange sights, but for the moment was startled,so horribly disfigured was the man. The sight of one eye wascompletely gone, and half his face looked as if a red-hot gridiron hadbeen pressed against it. The other eye was intact, and twinkledferociously under its bushy grey eyebrow. I recovered myself quickly,and made my request in as few words as possible. He became enraged asI finished. "Bah!" he said, "I thought your business was ofimportance. I can do nothing for you, my list is full. You have gainedadmission to me under a pretence--go!" and he resumed his study of themap. I would have urged the matter, but all my pride was aroused athis words, and so, with a short good-day, I turned on my heel andwalked out. Passing through the gallery, I saw De Brienne, leaningagainst an open window, talking to another young officer. They bothlooked at me, and burst into a loud laugh. At any other time I mighthave treated this with contempt, but I was sore all over at myreception, and approaching the two said, "You seem amused,gentlemen--it is not well to laugh at distress."
They stopped their laughter, staring haughtily at me, and De Briennesaid, "Your way, signore, lies before you," and he pointed down thecorridor.
"Perhaps the Signor de Brienne would care to accompany me--unless,"and I looked him steadily in the face.
"Unless what?" De Brienne flushed angrily.
At this moment we heard a hasty footstep on the marble floor, and LaPalisse advanced. "Still here," he said to me, "did I not tell you tobegone?"
"My business is with the Signor de Brienne," I replied stiffly, for myblood was hot within me.
"I am quite prepared," began De Brienne, but the free-captaininterposed.
"Not in the least. I cannot allow my officers to go fighting withevery _croque-mort_, who comes here with a long sword and a lyingstory. Look at him, De Brienne--every inch a bravo! Harkee, Donati!Begone at once. Not another word, or by God, I will have you hangedfrom the nearest window!"
It did not require me to carry my perception in my right hand, to beaware that La Palisse was capable of fulfilling his threat, andalthough I was inclined to draw on him there and then, I knew what theultimate results would be. So swallowing my pride as best I could, andregretting the ill-humour which had subjected me to this insult, Istalked into the street.
I made my way to my ordinary, and sat there to cool, which took sometime. I was able to see, that the rebuff I received was due in greatpart to my own mismanagement; also that there was no hope for me fromLa Palisse, and that my steps must turn elsewhere if I wished my purseto show a full-fed appearance. I dined sparingly, drinking but a halfmeasure of Chianti, which I mixed with water, and it made but a thinfluid. When I finished my slender repast, there was nothing left butto kill time. It was useless to go back to my lodging; for want offunds had compelled me to discontinue, until better times, my newlyacquired habit of reading, and Ceci, despite the kindness he had shownme, was precise in the exaction of payment for offices performed byhim. No more indeed could be expected from a huckstering mind such ashis, inherited no doubt from a line of bargaining citizens, whosehearts were in their bales of wool. So I strolled towards the gardenof St. Michael, passing on the way the piazzi, where there were stillnumbers assembled, and wondering at the implacable hatred of theFlorentines towards their noblest blood, a hatred they carried so far,as to build the walls of the Palace of the Signory obliquely, ratherthan they should touch the spot where the Uberti once dwelt. And thisset me reflecting on the unreasoning stupidity of the _canaille_, intheir enmity towards gentle blood. Perhaps I was a little influencedin these thoughts, from the fact that the Uberti were connected bymarriage with the Savelli, a daughter of Maso degli Uberti havingwedded that Baptista di
Savelli who upheld by force of arms his rightto attend the Conclave of Cardinals. It was sad to think that of theUberti not one was left, and of the Savelli--I alone. I will notinclude the Chigi, for they come through the female line, and althoughAmilcar Chigi, the son of my father's old enemy, subsequently madeadvances of friendship towards me, I felt bound to explain to him thatI was the head of the house, despite the broad lands his father gotwith his mother Olympia, by an unjust decree of the Chamber of Lies.This, however, is a family affair, which does not concern thenarration in hand. Having reached the garden, I sat myself to rest ona stone seat, set against a wall overhung by a large tree. At thefurther end of the walk were two ladies in earnest conversation. Theirbacks were to me at first, but on arriving at the end of the walk,they turned slowly round, and came towards me. As they approached, Iwas almost sure they were the two I had seen in the gala procession,and my doubts were soon at rest, for, on passing, they glanced at mewith idle curiosity, and in a moment I recognised them by their airand gait. On this occasion they wore no masks, and I saw they wereboth young and passing fair. The face of the shorter of the two, whosefigure had a matronly cast, was set in a mass of light hair, andlooked brimful of good-humour. The other, who, in marked contrast toher companion, had dark hair and dark eyes, possessed a countenance ofexceeding beauty, marred perhaps by its expression of pride. Be thatas it may, my blood began to tingle as I saw her, and an indefinitethought of what might have been rose into my mind. When they had gonea few yards, the one, whom I took to be a married woman, saidsomething to her friend, and glanced over her shoulder; but the otherappeared to reprove the remark, increasing as she did so the pride ofher carriage. I wondered to myself that two ladies, should be outunattended, in so sequestered a spot, at a time too when the city wasso full of excitement, and watched them as they turned the corner ofthe walk, and went out of sight beyond the trees. I began in a uselessmanner to speculate who they were, and to weave together a littleromance in my heart, when I was startled by a shriek, and the nextmoment the fair-haired lady came running round the corner of the road,crying for help. It was not fifty yards, and in less time than I taketo write this, I whipped out my sword, and was hurrying to the spot. Isaw, when I reached, the taller lady struggling in the arms of anill-looking ruffian. She called out on my coming, and the man,loosening his hold, was about to make off, when, unwilling to soil mysword with the blood of a low-born scoundrel, I struck at him with myfist, and the cross handle of the sword clenched in my hand, inflictedan ugly gash on his forehead, besides bringing him down. I stood withthe point of my sword over him, and the affrighted women behind me.
"Hold, signore!" he cried, "enough! I yield--what! Would you draw on afriend?"
"A friend?" I said in astonishment, as he slowly rose to his feet.
"Yes, Signor di Savelli, were you on Monte San Michele now, you wouldsing a different tune."
"Piero Luigi, then it is you," I said; "well, scoundrel, I am not onMonte San Michele, but you are here, and will shortly be before Messerthe Gonfaloniere, unless you restore at once what you have doubtlessrobbed from these ladies and beg their pardon. Stop! if you attempt tomove, I will spit you like a lark."
"I have taken nothing," he said, "let me go; I am punished enough."
"That is true, sir," said one of the ladies, "and we pray you let theman go."
"Not till he has begged your pardon," I replied.
Luigi did as he was bid, and humbly apologised; but as he left, hedischarged a Parthian shot: "Ah, ladies! I sought but a kiss. I am buta poor thief--a crow--but the Signor di Savelli is no better, thoughhe flies with hawk's wings."
I took no notice of the remark; and, lifting my cap, begged permissionto see the ladies to a place of safety.
"We thank you for your kindness, sir," said the shorter and elder ofthe two, "but I see our servants approaching, and we will nottherefore trespass on you. Believe me, however, we are grateful--mycousin and I."
Even as she spoke her lackeys came up, and one of them, in an alarmedtone, asked what was the matter, and turned on me fiercely.
"Be quiet, Gian," said the lady who had just spoken, "it is we whohave to thank Signor di Savelli for rescuing us."
"Your pardon, signore; but we heard the ladies cry out, and seeing youhere----"
"Where you should have been," I interrupted, "you lag too far behindyour mistress."
The dark-haired girl, who had up to now not spoken, but, with her facevery pale, was playing with a bracelet on her wrist, now looked up.
"I think we had better get back, we will not trouble this--thisgentleman further. He has already done too much for us."
She dropped me a proud little curtsey, and turned away, but herfriend frankly held out her hand. "Believe me, Signor di Savelli--Iheard you so called--my cousin Angiola and I are both very grateful.She is a good deal upset by what has happened, and I speak for her.My husband," she went on hurriedly, "has much influence, and if anyword----"
She stopped a little helplessly, and seeing she had observed myappearance, and anxious to end the affair, I cut in--
"Madam, I did nothing but drive off a cur--you thank me too much. Goodday!"
I stood cap in hand until they turned the elbow of the walk, and thenretraced my steps to my lodging. As I went back, I could not helprailing at my luck. I was enabled to do a service, which, for noreason I could assign, I would rather have done to this particularwoman than any other--a service which should have made her look kindlyat me, and yet by a cruel stroke she was made to think me nothing elsebut a thief, for Luigi's charge was definite, and it was clear I knewhim. My name was also known to her, and perhaps the rest of my story,as it was understood by the public, would be told to her, and then,adieu to my little romance, if it was not adieu already. Then againwhat business had I to have any such thoughts? I had yet to learn thatthese things come unbidden, and when they come, take no denial.Thinking in this way as I walked on, I was surprised to find I hadreached the old Albizzi Palace. This building, like all the otherhouses of the nobles of Florence, was fortified with braccia ortowers, joined to each other by bridges. These towers formed refugesduring interurban wars, and stood many a siege from the people. TheAlbizzi Palace had four such braccia, but the two towards the Ultrarnoquarter had been half demolished in some forgotten riot, and neverrestored. The others were however intact, although the bridge betweenthem had long since given way. It was in one of these that I had myabode, and reaching it about sundown, began to slowly ascend the darkstairs which led to my chamber. Occasionally I stopped and rested, andit was during one of these rests that I looked up to the landing aboveme. It was still in light; for the setting sun shone through a giglioshaped window in the western wall. As I glanced up, a figure suddenlyappeared at the head of the stairway, and leaning one hand on thebalustrade, peered down into the dim light below it. I recognised theextraordinary dress at once, and a moment's survey of the face assuredme it was my host of the hovel, he who had so strangely disappearedwith the girl, when I fought with Brico at Perugia.
"A good day to you, friend!" I called out, "and well met."
"Who calls? Who is there?" he answered.
"One moment, let me climb up these stairs," and I made my way to thelanding, and held out my hand.
He took it in silence, but his grip was warm.
"Signore," he said after a moment, "I do not know your name; butwhoever you are, Mathew Corte owes you much, and will some day showhimself grateful."
"My name," I said, "for the present is Donati, and as for gratitudethere is no need to speak of it."
As he mentioned his name, I remembered that there was a madman socalled, who had come into notoriety years ago, by asserting that hehad discovered the secret of prolonging life to a hundred and twentyyears. He had, I heard, written a book in which this was fullydescribed, and presented it to the Cibo pope, with the inscription,_videbis dies Petri et ultra_. Long after, I heard Cardinal Bembotell, in his witty way, how this same Corte presented his book tothree
successive popes, ending with Innocent of Genoa, adding that hetook care on each occasion to substitute a new title-page anddedication. "But," the cardinal was wont to add, "it is against thecanon, for our Lord the Pope to go in any matter, even in life, beyondthe Holy Apostle, and therefore, no doubt, the worthy doctor'sprescriptions were not followed. Such are the sacrifices the churchhas to make."
"How long have you been here?" I asked.
"Some days."
"And we have never met!"
"Ah! The place is like a rabbit-warren. There are hundreds here. Butit is odd that I have never seen you."
"Not so very odd when I come to think of it," and I looked down at myshabby attire. "It is generally late when I go out."
He held out one leg, clothed in its fantastic dress.
"I too am on the rocks," and he laughed bitterly, "and feed with thegoats."
Wishing to change the subject, I inquired about the girl. He turnedaway to the window, and when he looked back the man's eyes were fullof tears.
"Would you care to see?" he asked, with a shake in his voice.
I bowed gravely, and he conducted me upstairs, fully two flightsbeyond my room, and then stopped on a small landing. Through thehalf-open door that faced us, a little dog came out, and lookedwistfully at Corte. He stooped to stroke it, and then rising, passedinto the room. When he had gone beyond the door, he looked back at me,saying "enter."
I did so with gentle footsteps, and he pointed to a bed in the cornerof the room, on which was the figure of a woman, lying so still andmotionless, that she might have been an image of wax. Her plentifulbrown hair was spread over the pillow, and out of this frame, thepinched white face, with all its traces of past beauty, looked out ina pitiful silence. One thin hand was turned palm downwards on thecoverlet, and, as we stood, the fingers began to work convulsively.
Corte bent over her forehead and touched it with his lips. "Littleone," he said, "do you sleep?"
The girl opened her sightless eyes, and a faint smile, that lightenedher face, making it wondrous beautiful, passed over her countenance.
"Not yet." She spoke so low I could hardly catch the words, "but Ishall sleep soon."
I knew what she meant, for in her face was already that look whichcomes to those who are going away. Corte was however unable to judge."She is better," he said, "I will give her some more wine--all thatshe needs is strength--my little one." With this he turned to acupboard, and opening it, took thenceforth a bottle of wine; withshaking fingers he tried to fill a glass; but the bottle was empty.
"I forgot," he said, and looked hopelessly around him. There was thatin the man's face which made me read it as an open book.
"Stay here," I whispered, "I will be back soon--very soon."
He looked at me in a dazed sort of manner, but I waited for no reply,and, slipping out of the room, ran as fast as I could downstairs, andthrough the darkening streets to the nearest inn. Calling the landlordI asked him what was his best wine.
"My best wine, signore! All my wines are good. There is Chianti fromour own Tuscan grape, Lacryma Christi from Naples, Barolo fromPiedmont, Roman Orvieto and White Vernaccia of the same brand that theCardinal Ippolite d'Este----"
"Fool," I interrupted, "answer my question. What is your best wine?Have you any of the wines of France?"
"Wines of France!" he exclaimed, "_Corpo di Bacco!_ Does not yourexcellency know that La Palisse and his French cut-throats have beenhere for a month? Think you there is a bottle of red Roussilon orArmagnac left in Florence? There lie, however, in my cellar, twoflagons of Burgundy."
"Fetch one at once--run, man!" and I flung him a crown.
After a short delay, which seemed ages to me, messer the padronereappeared with the flagon of Burgundy under his arm, and seizing itfrom him, I ran back to the Albizzi Palace, and hurried up the stairsto the room occupied by Corte. Although I had been away barely half anhour, that was sufficient time to make a change for the worse in thesick girl, and I became aware that the end had begun. We tried toforce a little of the wine between her lips; but she could notswallow, and now instead of lying still, kept tossing her head fromside to side. Corte was undone. He could do nothing but stand at thehead of the bed, in mute despair, as he watched the parting soul sobits way out.
I went towards him: "Shall I send the intendant for a priest?"
If ever words changed the countenance of a man, mine did. His eyesfairly blazed with anger, and he hissed out, "No, signore--this is apriest's work--pray if you like, but no priest comes here."
I had, as all other men have, frequently called upon God, sometimes inidle blasphemy; but never on an occasion so serious as this. Pray if Iliked! I had forgotten what real prayer was. Impelled by a power Icould not resist, I knelt down and tried to form some words to reachthe Most High. But they would not come, I could only feel them, and Irose again and took my stand by the dying girl.
She began to talk now in a rambling manner, and with that strengthwhich comes at the point of death from somewhere; her voice was clear,but with a metallic ring. It is not for me to repeat the last words ofone who is now with her God; but I gathered from them a story oftrusting love, of infamous wrong and dastardly crime. And Corte shooklike a branch in the wind, as the words came thick and fast from thelips of his dying child. After a while she became still once again. Sostill that we thought she had passed away; but she revived on asudden, and called out:
"Father--I cannot see--I am blind--stoop down and let me whisper."
"I am here, little one--close--quite close to you."
"Tell him--I--forgive. You must forgive too--promise."
Corte pressed his lips to her damp forehead, but spoke no word.
"It is bright again--they are calling me--mother! Hold me up--I cannotbreathe."
Corte sank on his knees with his head between his hands, and passingmy arm round the poor creature I lifted her up, and the spiritpassed. In the room there was now a silence which was broken by aheart-rending sob from Corte. He staggered to his feet with despair onhis face.
"She said forgive!" he exclaimed. "Man, you have seen an angel die.This is the work of a priest, of a pontiff, of him who calls himselfVicar of Christ! Go now, and leave me with my dead."
I took his hand, and pressing it, turned to the door. As I closed itbehind me, I saw Corte bending over the still face of his child, andthe little dog, throwing up its head, howled piteously.
The Honour of Savelli: A Romance Page 8