CHAPTER XV.
All was bustle and the hurry of preparation in the Villa Rovera.Leonora's two young maids had as much trouble in packing up herwardrobe as a modern lady's maid in arranging her bridal wardrobe,though, be it said, if a lady's apparel in those days was richer, itwas not quite so multitudinous as the wardrobe of a modern lady. Butthese two young maids were not destined to be her only attendants; forthe old count, thinking, as he had expressed it, that the SignorRamiro d'Orco must be mad to entrust the escort of his lovely daughterto so young a cavalier as Lorenzo Visconti, had engaged a respectableand elderly lady, who had served for many years in his own household,to give dignity and gravity to the train of his young relation.
Many and particular were the instructions which he gave in privateconclave to the ancient Signora Mariana; and faithfully did shepromise to obey all his injunctions, and keep up the utmost decorumand propriety of demeanour by the way.
But alas! there is no faith to be put in old women, especially thoseof the grade and condition of life which was filled by Mariana. Theyare all at heart duennas, and, strange to say, generally, however hardand cold their exteriors, feel a sympathy with the tenderness andwarmth of youth. The old lady smiled as she left the old man; andperhaps she judged rightly that thus to restrain the actions and keepclose supervision on the conduct of a young lady and a young lord upona long journey through a distracted country was a task so much aboveher powers that it would be better not to attempt it. "I shall haveenough to do to take care of my old bones upon a rough trotting horseduring the day, and to rest them during the night, without mindingother people's affairs," she said. "Besides, the Signor Lorenzo is anice, honourable young man, and would do nothing that is wrong, I amsure; and the signora is quite discreet, and moreover, proud, which isbetter."
Leonora and Lorenzo were full of joy and anticipation. Perhaps neverin history was a long journey over rough roads, through a wildcountry, with the prospect of but poor accommodation anywhere but inthe large cities, contemplated with so much wild joy. Fancy was like abird escaped from its cage, and it soared over the future on expandedwings--soared high and sang.
Every now and then, it is true, a feeling of she knew not what awe ordread came over Leonora's heart--a sensation as if of some danger--afear of the very wideness of her range, of her perfect freedom fromall control--a consciousness that she was a woman and was weak, andvery much in love. But it soon passed away when she thought ofLorenzo's high and chivalrous spirit; and then she gave herself up tohope and joy again.
Poor Blanche Marie was the only one to be pitied, and she was verysad. Even the thought that she was loved--that the timid dream of heryouth's dawning twilight was already verified, could not console her.She was losing her loved companion, her bright cousin, and her loverall at once. For the loss of the two first, indeed, she had in somedegree to blame herself; for, with girlish enthusiasm, she hadresolved, from the moment she heard that Lorenzo was about to returnto Italy, that he should fall in love with Leonora, and she rejoicedthat all had gone according to her plans, but she would rather havehad them remain at the Villa Rovera, and make love there beside her.Then, as to De Vitry, she would not have withheld him from the fieldof fame for the world; but she would rather have had the lists whereglory was to be gained, at the back of the garden than far away at theend of Italy. Sometimes she asked herself if she really loved him--ifshe were not too young to know what love was; but then the pain shefelt at the thought of his leaving her for months, perhaps for years,convinced her little heart that there was something in it which hadnever been there before.
Thus waned the day of the king's halt at the villa gates, and themorning came, when Lorenzo and his train, now amounting to twentylances and some forty inferior soldiers, were to depart. Besidesthese, however, were Leonora's servants, male and female, Lorenzo'spersonal attendants, horses and mules and pannieris, and abaggage-wagon, with six silver-grey oxen to draw it. Moreover, withthe baggage-wagon were six foot soldiers, armed with hand-guns, then anew invention, for the manufacture of which, as I think I havementioned before, Milan had become famous. It made altogether a grandcavalcade, occupying so much of the road while the party waited fortheir young leader and the fair lady he was to escort, that thepeasant carts could hardly get past on their way to supply the marketof Pavia with all the luxuries which the King of France's arrival inthe city had brought into demand.
Much and sage advice had to be given by the old Count of Rovera bothto Lorenzo and Leonora; and long was their leave-taking with poorBlanche Marie; but, in some sort it was fortunate it was so; for,before all was over, the Seigneur de Vitry appeared among them,exclaiming, in his usually gay tone, though there was a certain degreeof shadow on his brow, "To horse! to horse, Visconti! You are to havea longer march than you contemplated. It has been decided by the kingthat seven miles is too short a ride for a young cavalier like you;and you are to march straight by Pavia, and act as an advance party onthe way to Naples."
"But where am I to halt?" asked the young cavalier; "remember, Signeurde Vitry, that it is long since I quitted this land, and I know notthe distances."
"All that is arranged," answered De Vitry--"arranged upon the verybest judgment and authority, that of a man who knows not the worthycount regent, but who knows the country well. At Belgiojoso, justseven miles beyond Pavia, you will find the route-card, as far asBologna, with every day's march laid down, in the hands of the king'sharbinger, old St. Pierre, who goes with you, with twenty lances more,to mark out the royal quarters. But, remember, you command the wholeparty, and the king relies upon your fidelity and discretion. Fromeach station you will march forward at eight in the morning, unlesscontrary orders from the court reach you earlier. If you should obtaininformation of any hostile movements in the front, you will send backintelligence, unless you meet with an enemy, in which case you willfall back upon the van."
"Without fighting?" asked Lorenzo.
"Why, methinks," said De Vitry, with a gay glance at Leonora, "that,considering that you have some non-combatants of your party, the lessyou fight the better till they are safely bestowed in the rear. Butyou must use your own discretion in that matter. It would not do tosee a French pennon retreat before a handful. But you must becareful."
"I will, depend upon it, on the signora's account," answered Lorenzo.
"'Tis a good guarantee," said De Vitry; "but does the king know shegoes with you?--Well, well, do not colour and look perplexed; I willarrange all that for you, only you must tell me what tale I am torelate to his majesty. Am I to say aught about hasty marriages and aSignora Visconti? or that the days of knight errantry have been fullyrevived by you and De Terrail, and that you are escorting a distresseddemoiselle to a place of safety?"
Though Leonora blushed deeply, Bianca Maria laughed gaily. "Why, youmight have heard all about it yesterday, my lord," she said, "had youwaited till Leonora opened her letter from her father, or till Lorenzocame back. It is by his command she goes--at his request my cousinescorts her. But you were in such a hurry to leave us, you would stayfor nothing."
"I stayed till I had got all I wanted for the time," replied the goodsoldier, "though I may want more by and by."
It was now Marie's turn to blush; but Lorenzo came to her aid, saying,"I had hoped to ask the king's permission to-day at Pavia. I could notask it yesterday, for his majesty was gone ere I received SignorRamiro's letter."
"Well, let it pass," said De Vitry. "I give leave for the present, andthe king will not call the lady back when you are forward on themarch, I think."
"But, Seigneur de Vitry," said Leonora, "I fear truly we shall loseour way, for neither Lorenzo nor I know a step beyond Pavia, and allthese soldiers are French I imagine."
"Have you not the renowned Antonio with you?" said De Vitry, gaily;"trust to him--trust to him; but never doubt him or ask if he is sureof the road, or he will let you run into a broken bridge and a swollenriver. But get you to horse as speedily as may be. Where is my lordthe count?"
"I am going to take leave of him," said Leonora, "and will show youthe way."
"One moment, my lord," said Lorenzo, leading his commander a littleaside; "tell me, I beg, why I am not suffered to halt in Pavia. Theremust be something more than you have said."
"Why, I believe it is simply this," answered De Vitry, after amoment's thought; "the good count regent is making a new road toMilan. He has already prepared to remove all the big rocks in the way;and the king thinks, and I think too, that he might judge it expedientto sweep away even the pebbles. The name of Visconti is not pleasantto him, Lorenzo--there are many druggists' shops in Pavia: so ask nomore questions, my good friend, but mount and away. God speed you onyour march and in your love. Well for you that you took the dark-eyedcousin. If you had chosen the other I would have cut your throat."
No need to pause longer on the parting; no need to follow them on thatday's march, for it was without incident. It seemed very short too, tothe young lovers, although the distance was greater than had beenexpected--all distances are. The seven miles from the villa to Paviaand the seven miles from Pavia to Belgiojoso stretched themselves intofull sixteen miles, which is contrary to all rules of arithmetic, butstill it is an invariable result. The day was charming. It was likeyouth: it might have been too warm but for certain clouds whichshadowed the sky from time to time, and tempered the ardour of thesun. The heavy-armed horses suffered a little: but at length thepretty village--for it deserved not the name of town--which has sincegiven a famous name to a beautiful, high-spirited, but unfortunatelady, appeared before them about four o'clock in the afternoon. OldSt. Pierre, the king's harbinger, had been there for some hours withhis twenty lances; the quarters were all marked out, and everythingprepared.
"As the king must occupy his own lodging first, my lord," he said, "Icannot give you the best inn; but here is a very pretty little placeat the edge of the village, where they seem good people, and Ireserved that for you. I did not expect, indeed, so many ladies," hecontinued, looking towards Leonora and her maids, "but I dare say theycan all be accommodated. Come and see."
Lorenzo rode on, with the old gentleman, who was on foot, walking bythe side of his horse and talking all the time. The little inn towhich he led them is, I dare say, there still. It certainly was sosome twenty years ago--much changed, doubtless, from what it was then,but still with somewhat of the antique about it. There were vines overboth sides of the house, and the rooms to the back looked over thegardens, and small, richly cultivated fields that surrounded theplace. The leaves of the vines were turning somewhat yellow, and manya cluster had been already plucked from the bough; but Leonorapronounced it charming, and Lorenzo thought so too. Happy had theyboth been if Fate had never placed them in higher abodes. Oh, thosepinnacles; they are dangerous resting-places.
Let us pass over an hour or two. The men had been dispersed to theirquarters and the proper guard set; a light meal had been taken, andthe country wine tasted; the maids had found lodging, and were amusingthemselves in various ways, with which neither the writer nor thereader has aught to do; Signora Mariana, like a discreet dame, wasdosing in an upper chamber, and Lorenzo and Leonora were seatedtogether in the little saloon at the back of the house, with thefoliage trailing over the window and its verandah, and a small butneat garden stretching out down a little slope. They were alonetogether; the dream was realised; and what if they gave way to young,passionate love as far as honour and virtue permitted. His arm wasround her; the first kiss had been given and repeated; the beautifulhead rested on his bosom, and heart had been poured into heart in thewords which only passion can dictate and youth supply. Ah! they werevery beautiful and very happy! and the attitude into which they hadcast themselves was such as painters might copy, but not the mostgraceful fancy could imagine. It was full of love, and confidence, andnature.
As they sat, they were somewhat startled for a moment by the sound ofa lute played apparently in the garden; but it was not very near, andthe tones were so rich and full, the skill of the player so exquisite,that instead of alarming the timidity of young love, they only addedto "the loving languor which is not repose" which before possessedthem.
After listening for a moment, and gazing forth through the openwindow, they resumed their previous attitude, and continued theirconversation.
Leonora's beautiful head again lay on Lorenzo's bosom, with her lookturned upward to his face, while he gazed down into her eyes--thosewells of living light--with his head bowed over her, as if the nextmoment his lips would stoop for a kiss: and now and then a graveearnest look would come upon their faces, while the words camesometimes thick and fast, sometimes ceased altogether, in theintensity of happiness and feeling.
What made Lorenzo look suddenly up at the end of about a quarter of anhour, he himself could not tell; but the moment he turned his eyes tothe window he started and laid his hand upon his sword. But then avoice of extraordinary melody exclaimed, "Do not move! for Heaven'ssake, do not move! Alas! you have lost it; you can never assume thatpose again; but, thank Heaven, I can remember it, with what I havealready done."
The man who spoke was a remarkably handsome man of about forty-four orfive years of age, with a countenance of wonderful sweetness. He wasdressed in a black velvet coat, with a small cap of the same materialon his head, and a little feather in it. His seat was a large stonein the garden just before the window, and on his knee rested acurious-looking instrument, which seemed the model of a horse's headcut in silver and ivory. Upon it was stretched a small scrap of paper,on which he still went on, tracing something with a pencil.
"This, sir, is hardly right," said Lorenzo, advancing to a doorleading direct into the garden, which, like the window, was wide open."You intrude upon our privacy somewhat boldly;" but the next instanthe exclaimed, in a voice of delight, as he gazed over their strangevisitor's shoulder, "Good heaven! how beautiful! Leonora! Leonora!Come hither and see yourself depicted better than Venetian mirror everreflected that loved face and form."
"And you too, Lorenzo! and you too!" exclaimed Leonora. "Oh! it isperfect!"
The artist looked up and smiled with one of those beaming smiles whichseem to find their way direct to the heart, as if an angel looked intoit. "It is like you both," he said; "but it was the attitude I sought,and you started up before I had completed the sketch. Yet I canremember it. My mind, from long habit, is like a note-book, in whichevery beautiful thing I behold is written down as soon as seen. Lookhow I will add in a moment all that is wanting," and he proceeded withrapid pencil to add the arm of Lorenzo cast round Leonora's waist, andher arm resting on her lap, with her hand clasped in her lover's.
The colour came in the beautiful girl's cheek, but without remarkingit the artist said:
"Was it not so?"
"Even so, I fear," murmured Leonora.
"You must let me have this drawing," said Lorenzo; "you can put nohigher value on it than I will be right glad to pay. It will be to mea memorial of one of the happiest days of my life, and of her I lovebetter than life."
"Nay, I would not part with it for any payment," said the other; "but,having done as you said just now--intruded on your privacy--I will payfor the intrusion by sketching for each of you, the portrait of theother, and that without price. But let us come into the saloon, andcall for lights; it is getting somewhat dark. Will you, younggentleman, take my lute, while I put up the sketch and my pencils."
"Is this then a lute?" asked Lorenzo, taking the horse's head in ivoryand silver. "Oh! I see; here is a finger-board, and the strings arefastened to the lower jaw. I never saw a lute like this."
"Probably not," the other answered; "it is my own design andworkmanship."
"Then was it you whom we heard playing, just now?" asked Leonora. "Themusic was divine."
"It might be so," answered the artist gaily, "for Cupid was verynear--though I knew not of the god's neighbourhood--and it is thenature of all godlike beings to cast their influence far around them,and raise common things toward divinity. He
is a mighty deity thatCupid, and, when worshipped purely, has precious gifts for the sons ofmen. You two are very young," he continued, thoughtfully, "anddoubtless noble."
"We are young," answered Lorenzo, "and noble as far as blood isconcerned. Noble in a better sense I trust we are likewise. Here isone, at least, who is, and what may be wanting in myself my love forher shall give."
"'Tis one of the precious gifts I talked of," answered the artist,moving to the house, and entering the little saloon; "a high and purelove ennobles him who feels it; and well, young gentleman, have youdistinguished between two nobilities. Yet, constituted as this worldis--nay, not only as this world, but as man himself is--there mustalways be a factitious nobility, which, in the eyes of the world, willrise above the other. The notion of anything like equality everexisting among men is a dream of human vanity, contrary to allexperience, and to the manifest will of God. The only reason why menever entertained it is that the lower intellects feel theirselfishness wounded at acknowledging they are inferior. Now, as thelower intellects predominate immensely in point of numbers, and alltheir vanities combine to pull down those superior to their own level,you will always find democratic republics attempted in those countrieswhere there is no great predominance of intellect in any, or thatpredominance is confined to a very few. If there be one intellectvastly superior to any others, the constitution of the state will soonbecome a monarchy; if there be more than one or two greatly above therest, you will have an aristocracy, and the natural order, as far as Ihave seen in the world, will be the monarch representing the highestintellect and most powerful will; an aristocracy representing thosenext in mental powers; and below them the plebeians, representing thegreat mass of stupidity and ignorance which exist in this world--theweak, the vicious, the thoughtless, the idle, the brutal, thebarbarous. Granted that these several classes will not long justlyrepresent the reality; but still the order is the natural order, andmen strive against it in vain. We have seen these democratic republicstried over and over again in this our Italy, producing misery anddisorder during their existence, and all tending to the sameconsummation."
"But how is equality among men contrary to the will of God!" askedLorenzo; "the incarnate Son of God himself seems to have preached sucha doctrine."
"I humbly think you are mistaken," answered the artist. "On thecontrary, he always inculcated submission to our superiors. But youask how is it contrary to the manifest will of God? I reply, not onlyby the difference of mere worldly advantages which he has bestowedupon various men, for that might depend upon a false and mistakenscheme of society, but by the difference of mental and spiritualpowers which he himself has ordained and bestowed, without anyintervention of man or of man's will. Take one of the many idiots, orhalf idiots, who sit upon the steps of St. John at Rome, and place himby the side of the late Lorenzo de Medici. Take them as mere infants,and try to educate them alike nay, give the highest culture to theidiot, the lowest to Lorenzo, what would be the result? The one wouldtower above the other with his gigantic mind, the other would remainan intellectual pigmy; the one would be a prince of thought, the othera plebeian. Here is an inequality decreed by God himself; and althoughI have taken an extreme case, you will find the same rule pervade allminds and all natures. No man has the same capabilities. Every gift isunequally apportioned; and the same Almighty Being who gives to oneman wealth and to another poverty, to one man the stature of a hero,to another the height of a dwarf, has decreed that inequality ofstation against which the vanity of multitudes struggles in vain. Imyself am a plebeian, you are nobles, yet I would not alter the orderof society if I could. But let us change the topic; or, while thissweet half light still lingers in the west, I will play upon myfavourite lute again, and let you hear some verses which flow somewhatwith the current of our thoughts."
For a moment he leaned his cheek against the instrument, struck a fewchords, put the strings in perfect tune, and then, with the skill of agreat musician, drew forth harmonies such as were seldom heard inthose days. A minute or two after, his voice, far sweeter than anysounds which could be brought from the lute, joined in, and he sangsome irregular verses, which he seemed to improvise.
SONG.
"Let him who cannot what he will, Will only what he can. 'Tis surely Folly's plan, By willing more, to compass his own will. Then wise the man who can himself retrain To will within his power; he ne'er shall will in vain.
"Yet many a joy and many woe, From knowing or not knowing what to will, In sweet and bitter drops distil, For from ourselves our fate does mostly flow. Fair skies to him who steers his bark aright, And keeps the pole-star--duty--ever in his sight.
"He who takes all, is rarely blessed; The sweetest things turn soonest sour, When we abuse our power. Oft have I wept for joys too soon possessed. What lessons, then, from these light verses flow? That which we ought to do, and what we ought to know."
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